A.biro’s response to the mixed context of Grosuplje is an equally heterogeneous building.

Grosuplje, a settlement only 20 minutes’ drive from Ljubljana, is an odd mixture of buildings and people. It is the home town of the current rightist prime minister, and while it is known as a Mecca for craftsmen its outskirts host both the cheap and kitschy Kongo Casino and gypsy shanty towns. A scattering of strange sculptures and a distinctive local dialect distinguish Grosuplje from your typical Slovenian town. There is a vaguely defined centre and a few irredeemably provincial luxury villas, but the overall impression is one of almost surreal diversity. It was precisely this heterogeneity that was the starting point for the design of Grosuplje Public Library.
The open competition for the building was won by A.biro, an architectural office whose built works range from a highly visible parking garage in the centre of Ljubljana to somewhat quieter but still quite experimental apartment buildings on the outskirts of the city.

The new public library is in fact an extension to the existing library which is one of the last remaining good-quality 19th-century buildings in Grosuplje and as such treated as an extremely valuable piece of architecture. The building underwent extensive but respectful renovation and modernization, since the architects’ focus was on the new structure, which is only loosely connected to the old building.
The site is typical for Grosuplje: an empty, relatively small plot between the old, listed building and anonymous 1960s blocks of social housing. The architects decided to „mirror“ the volume of the old building and gently re-shape it into an appropriate structure. The specific shape of the building conforms to some extent to the functional requirements, while simultaneously offering different kinds of symbolic readings. The central function of the library is visible on the outside as the building „opens up“ towards the main street like a book. The building zigzags in a casual but unsustained nod to the iconic. Despite the connection with the old building, the new volume stands as an independent structure in the chaotic urban fabric. The vertical alternations of glazed and closed surfaces – glazed towards the old building and closed towards the apartment blocks – make it look filigreed yet solid. While from the rear the addition seems like a closed box, from the main street is seems transparent, thereby leaving the dominant role to the old building.

The interior of the new library reveals a very complex „urban scheme“. The library is structured as an introverted public landscape composed of different platforms, voids, routes and stairways. Great importance was given to the way the public enters the building. The whole library opens up gradually: the entrance hall’s expressive exposed concrete ceiling reveals nothing of the vast central space that unfolds on the higher floors. The full-height central reading room has a great spatiality, in contrast to other sections which are filled with bookshelves. The choice of finishing materials and furniture gives the space a distinct character that is as heterogeneous as the urban context – tranquillity, cosiness and monumentality are all here. Another focal point for the architects was the lighting – one of the most important features of a library. The building „catches“ dispersed natural light through the skylights on the zigzagging roof, as well as from vast glazed facade sections. At night balloon-shaped suspended lights, hanging above the central reading room, softly glow like moons, inviting passers-by to enter.

Grosuplje’s new public library is not just a centre of documentation and information; it is also important as a social centre and an „urban intensifier“. An open platform between the two buildings, beneath the bridge at first-floor level, acts as a covered public square, a small plaza hosting different activities including a café. And despite the striking contrasts, the complex works as a whole, making it an inspiring example of a different kind of heterogeneity.

A10, Mo., 2007.05.21

Enota’s Sotelia hotel hovers between building and landscape, between a commercial and an architectural dream.

Travellers arriving late at night in Podcˇetrtek – a small town famous for its thermal baths – are welcomed by two glowing, yet indefinable architectural objects. The first one appears to be some kind of a framework surrounding a vibrant play of light. The second is more subdued: warm yellow light beckons the traveller into a voluptuous space. It seems to be a hotel lobby, but it’s difficult to be sure as by night the entire world is reduced to a glazed entrance, a colourful lobby area, a carpeted corridor. By day the picture is very different, however.

The architecture of the Olimia thermal baths – an addition to the Termalia thermal baths, completed in 2004 – acts as a boundary fence, while that of the recently built hotel is tucked discreetly into the surrounding landscape. Both buildings were designed by the young Enota architectural practice, a recent recipient of Slovenia’s most prestigious architectural award, the Plecˇnik Prize.

Slovenia offers great potential for spa and thermal bath architecture. Unfortunately, Hotel Sotelia represents one of the few good examples. Before the war, the country’s spas boasted some imposing hotels, but the post-war socialist period brought first numbing uniformity and later, in response to a growing demand for more attractive facilities, glitz and kitsch. During the socialist era, no one expected a modern hotel to be anything more than a prosaic box with floor upon floor of rooms on top of a base containing general facilities and services.

Located between two existing hotels, Sotelia clearly distances itself from the built environment and connects, instead, with its natural surroundings. The architects’ primary concern was to avoid an immense building mass, like the one suggested in the client’s brief, which would have blocked the last remaining view of the forest. They broke that volume up into small units arranged in landscape-hugging tiers. As a result, the four-storey, 145-room building appears much lower and smaller than this description would suggest.

The specific shape of the hotel was dictated by the folds in the land scape. The unique structure offers passers-by some magnificent spatial experiences: from the front, the building is perceived as a two-dimensional set composed of parallel planes placed one behind the other; a walk around the hotel reveals entirely different views of the timber facade, from a plane of vertical wooden slats to a rhythmic arrangement of balconies and wooden terraces.
While the exterior is relatively serene, the interior is more dynamic and expressive. In an industry as competitive and as fickle as the hotel industry, and where atmosphere is the be-all and end-all, the architects went with the standard formula for success: a combination of individuality and diversity. While the hotel offers a number of different spatial sequences, its connection with nature remains the most important and consistent feature. Each room has a private balcony with carefully directed views over green roofs which offer the impression of close proximity to the ground, even from the fourth floor.

The internal programme can be read in the use of materials: wooden panelling and soft carpeting for private spaces, screen-printed glass and grey terrazzo floors for public areas. Although the interior does not trumpet „architect-designed“, many elements, like the bamboo-encased columns, were in fact devised by the architects. And it is these columns – tree trunks by day and pillars of light by night – that attract the traveller. Like the rest of the hotel, they sensitively – and successfully – occupy the thin line between economic pragmatism and artistic fantasy.

A10, Di., 2006.07.18

Two very different examples of recent work by young Slovenian architects.

Faced with a serious shortage of housing and outrageous free-market prices, the Slovenian government has introduced a national housing policy, financed from the Slovenia Housing Fund (Stanovanjski sklad RS). Similar motives drive the social housing programmes of municipal governments. Many of the architecture competitions arising out this new government policy have been won by young architectural practices. The new housing schemes have a fresh and contemporary look, but will this new Slovenian housing truly be able to transform traditional housing stereo-types? Have any new concepts of living been developed?

It seems that the Slovenian housing industry is not yet ready to experiment. The commercial forces are still inclined to stick to tried and tested models rooted in the collectivist imagery. The strict demands of investors with respect to construction costs, apartment size, floor ratios, ceiling height and many other often obsolete parameters, keep housing conventional. Even the so-called progressive schemes are based on the repetition of „common sense“ archetypes. What else besides dry mathematics is left for the architect? Not much.

That was especially the case in the Polje social housing project on the outskirts of Ljubljana. Dealing with the existing and outdated urban project for six separate villa blocks placed on a rigid grid was no easy task. But Matija Bevk and Vasa J. Petrovič, the principals of Bevk Petrovič arhitekti, accepted the restrictions as a challenge, creating a social luxury that goes far beyond what is prescribed for non-profit rental housing. Since radical changes to the existing urban plan were not possible, Bevk Petrovič transformed the space in between. They introduced a small park with a carefully designed children's playground, making the landscape part of the housing scheme. Private-public interchange continues on open hanging balconies which act as spatial extensions of the interiors. The 78 social housing units were designed according to the rules, although Bevk Petrovič did manage one surprise. The one-room apartment on the upper floor is unexpectedly tall, radiating a true luxury of space.

While the Polje social housing was financed by Ljubljana's City Government, the apartment block in Izola is part of the national housing scheme. Since 30 apartments were for sale the budget was extremely tight. The construction costs of the non-profit block were 600 euros per square metre which translated into a 1250 euros per square metre selling price. Rok Oman of Ofis architects conducted a masterly study of the floor plans. A modular scheme was applied within the given contours of the block, resulting in optimum use of space and a maximum net saleable surface area. Collective spaces are reduced to a minimum to keep the square metre price low. After solving the internal layout, Ofis architects turned to the external appearance. The balconies were transformed into semi-closed loggias wrapped in colourful awnings that act as sun shades. This playful optical game transforms the block into an impressive design object, causing controversy among locals and professionals alike.
Bevk Petrovič arhitekti and Ofis, two examples of the recent recruitment of young Slovenian architects, are after two different kinds of beauty. Their facade games result in two quite different visual and sensual experiences. While OfisÕs colourful balconies are more seductive as imaginative design, giving the block a unique identity, almost like a brand, Bevk and Petrovičs' blocks are of a more pragmatic nature. The railway colour of the sheets of industrial cement fibre creates a modest world of its own while at the same time relating to the railway site, whereas Ofis works like a fashion designer, cutting and folding a luxurious fabric around the block rather than relating it to the local environment.

Unfortunately, the architects' creativity and know-how cannot be expressed in the interior. The strict housing regulations do not allow for more fluid and transformative spaces. Nouvel or Lacaton & Vassal's concept that the true luxury of living is the act of creating space in the home has not yet reached Slovenian social housing regulations.

Next to the Izola building, a new identical block designed by Ofis is under construction. When I visited the site the block was still in a raw, unclad state. The colourless concrete cube with protruding balcony consoles had nothing in common with its playful twin brother. There was no sign of innovation, no visual pleasure and no story. Just a silent warning, the naked truth of the limitations of a Slovenian housing production driven by rigid market demands.

A10, Sa., 2005.11.19