The Curve at the Barbican is an odd space. Perhaps when they finished building the whole enormous brutalist arts complex they found there was this area between two walls which they'd forgotten about, and decided to make a virtue out of necessity, paint it white, and call it a gallery. Currently on display there, Architecture as Air:
Internationally acclaimed Japanese architect Junya Ishigami is one of the pioneering architects of his generation. Working between the spheres of architecture and art, Ishigami redefines the aesthetics of minimalism by playing with perception, materials and scale.
For his first installation in the UK, he has conceived a new structure built in response to The Curve’s unique space, which he describes as ’melting endlessly into space’. The structure comprises of a single curved line of delicate 4 metre columns running the entire length of the gallery, which appear to be held in place by air and atmosphere alone. Only on close inspection are the transparent structural components revealed.
You have to take your shoes off to go in, and it's only five people at a time, which lends a suitably reverent gloss to the experience. An attendant is never far away, willing – indeed eager – to explain things to you. Cones mark off the space where you're not allowed to wander. All this is necessary because of the extreme fragility of the piece, as you're constantly reminded. You can get an idea of what it looks like from the photo here - except for all the cones on the floor and the dark-suited attendants.
What you have are vertical strings – thin vertical strings, just about visible (an attendant helpfully pointed them out to me in case I hadn't noticed them) – with a long string along the top as a kind of beam. It wasn't clear what held them up, but when a dark-clothed attendant stood on the opposite side we could see these cobweb-thin filaments coming diagonally down and, we were told, holding the whole thing in shape. So…very fragile, very delicate. Why not have a dark background, I asked, so we could see the filaments better. Ah, said the wide-eyed attendant, you're not meant to see them….you're meant to sense their presence.
Here's what Ishigami himself has to say:
A cloud is one new image for architecture
Clouds appear as a phenomenon of nature.
Architecture that floats lightly in the air, soft and fluffy like a cloud, transparent and intricate like an airflow, vast and enormous, but even then having no substance.
Such is the kind of architecture I pursue.
In something lying between natural phenomena and built structure there may be new potential for architecture.”
A limited potential, one hopes. When Ishigami displayed at last year's Venice Architecture Biennale his structure collapsed when a cat walked through it. Not that this was any kind of problem for the architects, who were perhaps impressed by the way the piece subverted normal expectations that buildings are meant to be able to withstand feline encounters. Yes, he won the Golden Lion, the top prize.
Not much to take from this really. It was barely there: edging closer to that Ideal Exhibition when people come, read all the accompanying literature, have the concepts explained to them, get the audio guide, and marvel at…..absolutely nothing at all.
Things slowly curve out of sight
until they are gone. Afterwards
only the curve
remains.
Mick Hartley 
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