Oscar Niemeyer's Museum of Contemporary Art in Niterói, Brazil,
is a masterpiece of late modernism in a country that never departed
from the style.
by Eric Fredericksen
On a promontory on Guanabara Bay, facing Rio de Janeiro, rises
a dramatic bloom of a building, the Museum of Contemporary Art
in Niterói. With its gleaming white concrete surfaces and symmetrical,
curving form mushrooming out above the rocky site, it seems like
a well-preserved relic of Brazil's Fifties and Sixties boom, an
example of optimistic high Modernism.
In fact, the museum was completed only last year, the latest work
of the venerable Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer. Some visitors
are surprised to learn that Niemeyer, who designed the major buildings
for Brazil's master-planned capital, Brasília, is still active.
His name has certainly fallen out of circulation in America, where
he hasn't built anything since he worked with Le Corbusier and
Wallace Harrison on the United Nations Headquarters. But Niemeyer
is very much alive, and, in his nineties, has completed a building
that shows his architectural gifts and his commitment to Modernism
to be undimmed by age.
Unlike some of his contemporaries, Niemeyer never latched on to
newer trends in order to keep his career going. Other than a spell
in Europe in the late 1960s while Brazil was under military rule,
he has pursued his craft here with little interruption or radical
change, melding a personal love for curving forms with a high
Modern-ist's belief in progress and liberation
through technology. And Niemeyer's Modernism has always been tied
to his native country; a formalist, his buildings often refer
to the shapes of the Brazilian landscape, especially the curves
of Rio's mountains and, he has said, her women.
Rio, like Niemeyer, never repudiated Modernism. Though it took
until 1930 for the movement to take off in Brazil, it has been
the dominant aesthetic ever since. Its capital, built from scratch
deep in the country's rural interior, has become an emblem of
the style. And as it evolved in relative isolation, Modernism
in Brazil took on a distinct and recognizable regionalism. "Every
single formal motif [in Brazil] was charged with an emotive significance
which enabled it to stand on its own," writes Leonardo Benevola
in his 1960 History of Modern Architecture (MIT Press). "Composition
became elementary, allusive...while the shape of the whole could
be taken in at first glance."
When you walk the streets of Rio, you'll see no nonstructural,
Post-Modern pilasters and cornices, no "ducks" or decorated sheds,
no deconstructed cubes with their insides on the outside. What
you will see are gems like A.E. Reidy's Pedregulho residential
complex and the sweeping oval of Maracanã Stadium, as well as
miles and miles of rectilinear apartment buildings, heavy on majolica
tile and glass, steel and stucco, many set high on pilotis. The
only pre-Modern buildings much in evidence are churches, though
among them are some grand, Modern exceptions like the Metropolitan
Cathedral, a stunning if somewhat brutal truncated cone of reinforced
concrete.
A similar aesthetic, on a much humbler scale, prevails in Niterói,
a suburb of Rio connected by a long cantilever bridge. Home to
some 500,000 people, it's known for great beaches and beautiful
views of Rio, though not much else. In 1991, João Sattamini, a
prominent art collector, gave the city a chance to change this.
If Niterói would build a suitable venue, he would fill it with
his extensive collection of contemporary Brazilian art. "Thinking
big," then-mayor Jorge Roberto Silveira later wrote, "we immediately
opted for Oscar Niemeyer."
After visiting the dramatic site, the architect quickly sketched
out the design at a nearby restaurant. "I asked the waiter for
a few sheets of paper," Silveira continued. "He was hurrying back
with a few message slips when another waiter intercepted him and
muttered, 'Bring bigger paper. This is the man who designed Brasília.'
"
"My design sprang up spontaneously in the earliest sketches,"
Niemeyer remembered. "A central pillar, with the architecture
floating free in space, like a flower." A narrow core set in the
middle of a pool of water swoops out and then rises at a 40-degree
angle to encompass the museum's offices and galleries. A deep
red ramp makes a wide curve up to one floor, then twists around
itself to ascend to a second entrance. Under a stone plaza and
pool of water are spaces for a restaurant and auditorium. Children
fish and swim in the bay below; their laughter can be heard inside
the galleries.
Set on a high point that extends into the bay, the museum occupies
the kind of site normally reserved for lighthouses; though rising
only about 50 feet, the museum can be seen from all over Rio's
waterfront and from the high mountains that jut up in the middle
of the city. And the more one looks at this building, the more
grace its flying saucer--like form assumes--particularly in the
breathtaking moment when its side lines up with Sugarloaf Mountain,
across the bay. By continuing to explore the Modernist aesthetic
and refusing to depart from formalism and purity, Oscar Niemeyer
has turned himself into an eccentric. But with this quirky, late
work, he has created a building that is a beacon and a symbol
of civic pride, a late blossom of Modernism. |
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