SERPENTINE PAVILION
The past three years have seen the Serpentine Pavilion’s summer pavilion programme discover a renewed sense of purpose. An annual commission that had originally been conceived as a means of introducing unfamiliar architectural talent to a British audience had been reduced to a platform for the talents of the world’s most famous practices. The results were often captivating, but it was hard to shake the sense that the gallery was playing it safe.
However, the appointment of Sou Fujimoto from Japan in 2013 and the Chilean architect Smiljan Radic last year finally marked a return to the programme’s original ideals. Having yet to build outside their native countries, both were only beginning to establish international reputations, and they rewarded the Serpentine’s confidence in them with two of the most compelling contributions to the programme to date.
This year’s appointment of the Madrid-based Selgas Cano continues this commitment to new talent, but with notably less happy results. The husband and wife team’s pavilion takes the form of an iridescent chrysalis formed by a steel skeleton draped in multi-coloured plastic sheeting. Its form is determinedly unorthogonal: four “tentacles” sprawl out from a central events space across the Serpentine’s much dug-up front lawn. Hugging the gently undulating ground, they consolidate their organic image through the heaving rise and fall of their roofline.
The enclosure comprises two layers set a distance apart. Translucent sheeting of varying colour and iridescence forms the principal envelope, but a second layer of colourful plastic ribbon has been strung back and forth in the manner of a psychedelic police cordon. Viewed across the park, the effect is startling and promises to be still more so at night when internal lighting transforms the pavilion into a glowing beacon.
Seen closer up, however, the treatment is less convincing. Architects presented with the commission always face the conundrum of how substantial a design to propose for a structure that is only intended to stand for a few months. Selgas Cano’s pavilion represents one of the most cheap and cheerful for many years.
As admirable as the ethical position reflected in that choice might be, it is still hard not to be disappointed by the ropey nature of the structure’s detailing. Reconciling the plastic membrane to the complicated geometry of the steelwork has clearly proved a particular challenge. After a heavy-night’s rainfall, we were dodging drips at the launch.
The architects describe the desire to establish a relationship between the pavilion and its parkland setting as a key motivation behind the design, so it is bewildering to discover that we are almost entirely unable to look out. The one unobstructed view is offered by a uteral protrusion that will backdrop the stage when the pavilion is used for public talks. How attractive an environment the space will be when packed with an audience remains to be seen. The fear must be that during wet weather it will prove noisy and when the sun is out prohibitively hot.
Each Serpentine Pavilion is delivered in a dauntingly short timeframe: just six months from commission to completion. Selgas Cano had originally developed a design predicated on a desire to build the structure from a single material but were forced to revert to a different scheme when that proved technically impossible. If their efforts represent a near-miss, the Serpentine is still to be applauded for its commitment to supporting this unique annual experiment. It offers architects a rare opportunity to try out ideas that a more costly and permanent commission would not allow. The right to fail comes with the territory.
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