"Elements makes you unutterably sad for
Koolhaas and what he thinks architecture is"


Brooking National Collection windows at Elements Venice Biennale

Opinion: by excluding architects and focusing on research for this year's Venice Architecture Biennale, Rem Koolhaas has given the world an insight into what he thinks about architecture. The result is less than encouraging, says Kieran Long.

Every Venice biennale breeds rumours, stories and speculations. The year Aaron Betsky fell in a canal. The cat that destroyed Junya Ishigami's installation in 2010. The year the French pavilion was taken over at midnight by pot-smoking hippies. True or not, they are the tourettic tics of the fevered hive mind of architecture as it steams in the humid heat of the lagoon.

This year there were fewer stories. I saw one nearly take shape: Rem Koolhaas was leading a tour of his Elements exhibition in the Central Pavilion and getting very upset that members of the public kept joining in what was supposed to be an exclusive press event. Eventually he exploded angrily at a very nice, female journalist (who was clearly supposed to be on the tour), ordering her to stop trying to join the (very male) party that was following him around.

Not much of a story, just a sleep-deprived old man with a tender ego being rude to the nearest face he thought didn't look that important. This behaviour won't be a surprise to those who follow the architectural superstar circus. It didn't much surprise me. But the sight of Koolhaas with his ego so shredded was not a moment for schadenfreude. Elements just makes you feel unutterably sad for him and for what he thinks architecture is. That a director of the biennale, whose work and writing make him unarguably the leading architect of his generation, should make a show that proposes that architecture is, when stripped right back to 'fundamentals', the mere shuffling around of cladding, walls, doors, stairs, roofs and toilets. I may sound ingenuous, credulous. But how else are we supposed to feel?

What do you think Koolhaas himself thinks when he looks at his collection of historical toilets, in one of the back rooms of the Central Pavilion? I imagine him somewhere deep inside repeating to himself: "It has come to this." Or maybe he's laughing at us. I hope so. But both outcomes are equally lonely and both are dead ends for those of us who care about the city.

I know from experience (I worked with David Chipperfield on the 2012 biennale) that Venice directors during the vernissage are on show in a very personal way to an audience of peers from whom (despite their protestations) they need approval. For them, it is like that dream where you're naked in front of the whole school. That is psychologically demanding, and on a human level I sympathise.

But this biennale, despite its mission to provide a shared fundament for architecture, is in fact a map of the Koolhaasian psyche. It is a pessimistic, in places funny, but mostly cynical manifesto of a man so deeply implicated in the phenomena he records, that it is no longer possible to tell the difference between what he advocates and what he criticises. Each room is a like obsessive series of retweets: it is not at all clear if these quotations from others equal endorsements. I suppose this creeping ambiguity began about the time we heard him describe the CCTV project for China's state-controlled media as a "positive and shining symbol of a changing world order". These are the words from his bizarre disclaimer on his own website about the book Content. Most of us didn't know where to look, and we still don't.

You will probably know by now that the Elements show is a series of rooms curated by Koolhaas (although he put a big caveat on any authorship of the Alejandro Zaera-Polo-curated room about cladding, which he declined to talk about at all) each dedicated to a different architectural element. I won't go in to the problems with his selection of elements because Reinhold Martin does a great job of that over at Design Observer. The exhibition itself has a higher than usual number of authentic artefacts: there is a collection of real historical windows from the Brooking Collection in the UK; there's the aforementioned toilets. There are models of Chinese historic buildings from Dutch museums and walls built out of real materials. The thinginess of it all is what made some people joke that the exhibition is like a building product catalogue, but it is impressive: an encounter with the debased matter of buildings today.

Koolhaas' proposition is that architecture as articulated by most biennales doesn't really exist any more. Architects are no longer involved in most of the stuff built, and the stuff that does get put up is made of suspended ceilings and floors, of windows and cladding packages taken off the shelf. He says that the zone above the suspended ceiling is not a place of architectural activity, it has been taken over by M&E engineers and contractors. So he rubs our noses in this situation, over and over again.

Some of the rooms are nonetheless fascinating. The installation about the genesis of the Chinese roof shows how the intricate timber construction was in fact standardised in the 12th century in an empire-wide attempt to prevent corruption and overspending. It's a great yarn, brilliantly told in great detail. It is also amazing to see the bullet-shaped elevator cab that rescued the Chilean miners out of the Copiapo mine in 2010. I don't know what it had to do with architecture, but it's an incredible thing.

As you enter the room about corridors, though, you feel yourself back amongst the windmills of Rem's mind. The corridors space consists of a series non-rooms behind two intersecting drywall passageways. In it you feel like you have got out of the lift at floor seven and a half in Being John Malkovich. Suddenly backstage, it is a place where you can't tell the difference between what's a real fire escape sign and an exhibition about fire escape signs. Charlie Kaufman would indeed be proud.

This might sound amusing, but the exhibition seems to be pained by the world, depressed by looking and even nostalgic about the past. Once there was a beautiful and elegant logic to windows, infinite stylistic variation and craft skill in their making. Now we have robot arms endlessly opening and closing a window latch to test their longevity. Once staircases could articulate the subtleties of the social rank of a householder, now they are standardised by health and safety regulations.

He's right about this, of course. But he has made a biennale without asking a single architect to show their work, which means he's either unaware or wilfully ignorant of the thousands of architects engaged in precisely the topics he says the profession ignores. I can't think of a single commercial architect today on this continent who is not at least thinking about how to design out the suspended ceiling, how to use chilled beams and embed services in exposed concrete soffits and so on. It might not be an area of architectural enquiry for OMA, but it is for many, many others.

And yes, European architects build only a tiny fraction of what is built around the world every year, but Koolhaas' take is still by any standard negative. As Joseph Rykwert put it when I bumped into him under the suspended ceiling hung in the entrance to the Central Pavilion: "He tells you how it is. He doesn't tell you what to do about it."

Perhaps the key to the whole biennale comes in the only piece of authentic Koolhaas sentiment, which appears in the Arsenale as part of the Monditalia exhibition. It is printed on the floor, perhaps so it can be gradually rubbed out by passing heels, and in it the architect describes his encounter with Michelangelo's Laurentian Library in Florence. Koolhaas begins the short text by describing the "sudden urge" he felt in 2006 that led him to look for the first time at the Italian architecture of the Renaissance. He describes the experience of the library as "terrifying" and "almost like a nightmare". (This is a man who worked for many years for the Chinese government). Koolhaas does his best to describe Michelangelo's artistry in terms of the 'elements' of architecture, but even he has to admit that Michelangelo's building goes way beyond those definitions. He says in the end that the artist achieves something close to the sacred: the tourists who visit the library, writes Koolhaas, are committing "sacrilege" against Michelangelo as, ox-like, they file past.

His conclusion? "For contemporary artists and architects the lesson of the Laurentian Library is perhaps that mannerism is a dish best served cold and in small doses." Come again? Rem clearly has had some kind of epiphany at the library, but his conclusion is that this must be due to the excesses of a particular style and the solution is to limit our contact with it. This is a kind of puritanism, even self punishment. Rem comes within a whisker of the transcendent, a whole new register of possibilities for the medium to which he has dedicated his life, but at the crucial moment he draws back.

And back to what? To his rooms of 'elements', to the deep mineshafts dug into the history of building by his staff and their obsessive collaborators. After all their furious digging, Rem and his researchers find themselves in mines, with a view of a very small patch of sky, unable to see horizontally, unable to achieve the kind of synthesis that the world needs from its architects.

Beyond the central pavilion, this biennale, like all of them, is full of delights. You must go if you can, and don't miss the simply beautiful experience of Tino Sehgal's performers in the Swiss pavilion, the powerful story of the Silver Lion-winning Chilean pavilion, Sam Jacob and Wouter Vanstiphout's joyfully revisionist history of British modernism in the UK pavilion, Marco Ferrari and Elisa Pasquali's installation about the Italian alpine border or Matilde Cassani's lenticular photographs of Sikh harvest festivals in Pianura Padana. And so much more.

These are the moments where we are reminded of architecture's role as the setting for our lives, from the quotidian to the cosmic. These are the places where the citizen returns to the scene (after being banished from the Central Pavilion) and reminds us why architecture is so very important.

Follow Dezeen's coverage of the Venice Architecture Biennale »

Kieran Long is senior curator of contemporary architecture, design and digital at the Victoria & Albert Museum. He presents Restoration Home and the series The £100,000 House for the BBC.

  • are we still into remomaamo ?

    Yep. Well said! REMism is simply passé.

  • wil

    A great, critical and insightful evaluation of Rem’s biennial. And yes it is sad seeing all these elements in their analysis and accumulation giving no suggestion what architecture is or could be.

    The elements have been masterfully analysed – to death, drying out any emotions for architecture. One certainty we have now: architecture is more than the accumulation of elements.

  • Derek_V

    Why so bitter Kieran?

    “This is a man who worked for many years for the Chinese government.”

    Why are you trying to smear Koolhaas for working with the Chinese government? We live in the 21st century. The Chinese government is a reality. To work with them is better than to see them as enemies, which you obviously seem to prefer. This view is totally backwards.

    • Kieran Long

      I’m really not saying it’s bad to work for the Chinese government, merely that he finds the Laurentian Library portico ‘terrifying’ but sees the headquarters of the state-controlled media of an undemocratic regime as a ‘positive and shining’ thing.

      Sorry if it came across any other way. And I have no reason at all to be bitter about Koolhaas, and I don’t think anything here is in that tone. Thanks for reading though!

  • Borisb

    Elements is by far the best and most inspiring exhibition at this year’s Venice biennale, although it is a design exhibition.

  • davvid

    There is an unusually large amount of personal animosity in Long’s review. Why should I assume that this is anything but an expression of the Longian psyche?

    “just a sleep-deprived old man with a tender ego being rude to the nearest face he thought didn’t look that important. This behaviour won’t be a surprise to those who follow the architectural superstar circus. It didn’t much surprise me.”

    It actually sounds like Long wants more of a superstar circus. He seems to want Koolhaas to exalt the rare, elite works and expensive works of architecture around the world; to scratch that transcendence itch. But Koolhaas is emphasising the common systems and materials that make most of the buildings in the world’s cities.

    I’m writing this comment from a New York office space. This is the “setting for” my life and it has much more in common with the generic systems and fragments of Koolhaas’s psyche than with whatever Long is searching for.

  • dean

    For me, that was the story. Here are all of these quite ordinary things – suspended ceilings, ramps and stairs, walls, and windows and doors, rules and regulations encompassing history as well as health and safety – and from these, we, as architects, strive to make architecture.

    The uniformity and banality of the base elements remains consistent, and we try to elevate it beyond the ordinary to become something extraordinary. Not every building accomplishes this, though constructed of the same bits, sometimes we do it, and produce something more.

    I don’t want Rem to tell me what to do with these elements, or else we’d all be living in Rem World (TM). But I am very happy to celebrate the ordinariness of what can be combined to make exceptional architecture.

  • Mindaugas

    I don’t understand the author. It looks like he does not understand Rem. Isn’t the whole purpose of Koolhaas’ work to suggest the image of reality as he sees it and leave space for the spectator to make his own conclusion.

    The most fascinating point is that Rem masterfully incorporates his stand point with no proposition whatsoever. It is like fresh air from the didactic type of biennales like Chipperfield’s. I liked it when I was in university. Now I need space.

  • ed

    Interesting read. Personally I felt that Rem intentionally left the conclusion, which you lacked, up to us as architects to create and in doing so we can all contribute to show that the architect is here, is important and does care.

  • Hans van Dijk

    Why so disappointed because there is no answer, program, grammar or synthesis? Were they ever promised?

  • tropical angst

    Sorry Kieran. It was indeed bitter, cheap and completely opportunistic. Focus your criticality on the work, not some idea on how in your view he should behave. Perhaps everyone commenting here read you wrongly and didn’t “get it”. I think not.

  • elena

    I enjoyed reading the review. It poses very legitimate and timely questions about Mr. Koolhaas’ exhibition. What is the relevance of it for today? I view it as a final farewell to the 20th century thinking. We all must know our history of architecture 101 before embarking into the explorations of the new era. In that sense, it is a delight.

    • focuser

      20th century thinking? Did you see the exhibit? In order to unlearn the past 700 years, we will have to rethink everything, all over again. Very little of the systems we have in place now, built from the Renaissance onwards, can exist in a depleting eco-system.

      Our next 700 years are downwards in almost every respect (comfort, nutrition, high speed travel etc). How we engage with these trends that are resource dependent will prove what kind of species we really are.

  • Andrea S

    Great article. After visiting the exhibition yesterday myself I wasn’t sure whether I was missing a trick, or whether Koolhaas really has crossed the fine line between genius and conceited nonsense. It sounds to me like no one had the guts to tell him it was the latter.

    Stick to the Arsenale pavilions if you’re visiting, much more interesting!

  • Markus

    Super bitter piece! You should own your bitterness. It’s pointless to try and backtrack now. You’re bitterness has already been laid bare for everyone to see. This is also a super lazy article. You totally missed (or purposely ignored) the entire point of the approach Rem was using.

    Critiquing it is fine, but it’s embarrassing that you ignored or failed to understand it when it was relatively simple. Apparently you also didn’t read much of the materials that would have explained many of the features that so perplexed you. For example, the device that rescued the Chilean miners: if you had looked at the graphic on the wall in that room or read the materials that accompanied that room, you would realise that the point was that “elevators” (including in mines) that go downward (below ground level) have been developing much more efficiently and quickly than elevators that move above ground (in buildings).

    There was some very interesting information that related this to certain commercial and market forces that monopolised and stifled elevator production above ground, whereas mine elevator production is less commercial and therefore less controlled by these same stifling forces. It’s therefore more open to experimentation and develops more rapidly.

    The fact that I (a lay person) understood this while you merely acted confused as to why it was there, proceeding to focus instead on how Rem supposedly treated one journalist, calls into question your entire purpose with this piece; was it your goal to understand what you saw, or to see what you wanted – Rem being mean to someone?

    Calling Rem an “old man” also seems really low.

    • Prole

      Rem has clearly instructed his army of interns to lay waste to Kieran Long via the medium of the Dezeen comments section.

      • Markus

        Haha! How confident you are. “Clearly” everything is a conspiracy with Rem at the centre, that seems to be the case with “Rem-haters” – globalisation is his doing, Chinese authoritarianism is also his fault, and now his “army of interns” (which you know of how?) is behind any comment that critiques Long’s lazy and bitter article? For the record I have never worked at/for OMA/Rem in any way. I just thought Long’s piece had more holes in it than Swiss cheese and pointed some out.

    • Theo H

      It’s an indication of how steeped in normative (as opposed to positive) thinking architects are that Kieran quotes Rykwert’s comment admiringly, as if it was a slam dunk critique. The whole history of the “is-ought” problem, fact-value distinction etc. seems to be outside the education of most architects.

      Koolhaas has always been concerned with evidence, for example in Delirious New York, even if he goes on to propose an absurd “retroactive” explanation for it. He has always emphasizes the “is” over the “ought”.

    • Pico

      I totally agree with this comment. It’s a super bitter piece and while I think Kieran has every right to be bitter at anyone at least he should “own” her bitterness.

      What I don’t think is fine, and it’s probably the reason why he’s obliged to “backtrack” now, is to be bitter at someone (or something) that you don’t understand, or at least don’t know how to properly criticise.

      While I don’t consider myself a layman (although clearly not an expert either) I unfortunately didn’t have the opportunity to visit the biennale.

      Nevertheless, I got the exact same feeling that the author totally ignored (or didn’t get) Koolhaas’s points with the whole exhibition.

      Please don’t try to portray me as some kind of “koolhaas-worshipper”.

      I just don’t think it’s fine for Dezeen to publish “lazy” and unfounded articles criticising one of the best portraits of contemporary architecture without laying acceptable arguments to do so.

      Maybe the author (the media and the ‘public’) would have preferred to see a beautiful collection of CGI renders of massive ‘boxy’ skyscrapers or beautifully designed urban ‘master plans’.

      Or maybe everyone should be expecting to be delighted by a beautiful depiction of the ‘magnificent’ direction contemporary architecture (and society) is heading for.

      I for one think it’s a really good thing that Koolhaas doesn’t give a damn about what the “public”, the author or some journalist would ‘love to see’ at a biennale and prefers to instead focus on heavily criticising what he (and the people he invited) think it’s fundamentally wrong with architecture and with society in general.

      It’s the kind of writing (and thinking) I would be expecting to find in the comments section of some Dezeen article, but clearly not in the article itself.

  • focuser

    This is a pathological review by someone either blind to the current conditions, or someone so angry that the exhibition blurs.

    The writer fails to understand his current location on the sphere. All languages are either beginning to collapse, or are too far from any possible rescue. Languages of all kinds must fail in the light of a digital solution/frontier. Which is not a solution at all, in fact, it is a far bigger problem than disconnected analogs offering bordered, tribal communication (yes, architecture is a form of communication, however frozen in place).

    As uniformity, singularity transform all media, there are only a few possible revolts. Manic individualism, which is what social media fools us into imagining is possible (the “web” indeed). Another is to create post-singularity, which will only look like post-modernism recreated by the digital.

    The other is to strip away all complex functionalism, and reduce the parts to their basic measurements and attempt to start over.

  • Naomi

    I’m surprised at the simplistic interpretation of Koolhaas’ exhibition as the “mere shuffling around of cladding, walls, doors, stairs, roofs and toilets”. My impression was that the Elements exhibition was one of the most successful displays from this year’s Biennale.

    It gave a clear dissection of the elemental ‘building blocks’ we have used – both collectively and independently – to define to the places we make. It illustrated the evolutionary process of the elements, and was suggestive of future innovations.

    Several of the national pavilions chose to ignore the fact that admission to the biennale intends the twin venues to be viewed in their entirety over the course of two days, and visitors are likely to suffer from information overload by the time their ticket is expired.

    The least successful exhibitors were those that presented an exhaustive inventory of projects or ideas related to the theme, but gave little consideration to the experience of the visitor. The Elements exhibition was not one of these. It was bold, tactile, and thought-provoking with each element presented in a unique way.

    This prompts me to ask, who is the biennale intended for? Is it an exclusive, Venetian sojourn for the architecture milieu? Or does it attempt to reach a wider audience, and share recent innovations and research with the interested public, who – I might add – are the ultimate patrons and users of the places and buildings we create.

    It would be a great pity if what Logan said of Koolhaas’ attitude at the press event were true. I believe greater attempts could be made to make the biennale more broadly accessible and comprehensible to an inquiring visitor.

  • Sam

    Long’s writing is quite British; terse and yet true. However, a critic should never apologise, as he did here in a comment of his own, which was slightly perplexing. Should have stayed silent, Long.

    • focuser

      Being British and ‘true’ are irrelevant. The review-opinion was cladded in character assassination while exhibiting full ignorance of the written guidance that designed the program. His failure is wilful, the apology is quite necessary.

  • Tribeca Trust

    The problem is that Koolhaas and the Modernist ideologues don’t see that Modernism was a stillborn idiocy – there was nothing there there, no content, just inarticulate but massively destructive nonsense, like an out of control baby having a tantrum.

    • focuser

      Your ‘problem’ has nothing to do with a majority of the exhibit. Modernism is far from stillborn idiocy. Reductionism (of which Modernism is a poorly named subset of) is a path that all major scientific and art forms must go through until parallelism takes hold.

      Your thoughts are uninformed opinion.

  • Subhan Manafzade

    The way Koolhaas communicated in that biennale was to simply show the evolution, and we ourselves clarified and decided the conclusion.

    The way Long communicated in that article was to show the evolution of his criticism and I clarify, decide and say that: please go back to ‘Fundamentals’. Mr. Long, you have to fill some gaps on that journey.

  • zibabe

    An offer to Kieran from his own words:

    “After all their furious digging, Rem and his researchers find themselves in mines, with a view of a very small patch of sky, unable to see horizontally, unable to achieve the kind of synthesis that the world needs from its architects.”

    “It is also amazing to see the bullet-shaped elevator cab that rescued the Chilean miners out of the Copiapo mine in 2010. I don’t know what it had to do with architecture, but it’s an incredible thing.”

  • Passer by

    The entire article was about the display of the exhibition, not the message it intends to show. I believe Rem Koolhaas chose to work for whomever he wants out of free will. Blame everything on the Chinese government.