Malta Independent

Stratum: Modernisat­ion or pollution of Sliema’s architectu­ral landscape?

- MANTAS STOCKUS Mantas Stockus is a Maltabased Lithuanian. He has an MA in Modern and Contempora­ry Literature and Criticism from the University of Malta. Mantas is particular­ly interested in thought-provoking writing and haiku poetry.

Over the last few decades, Malta has witnessed an economic boom resulting in an unrecognis­able evolution of its architectu­ral landscape. Above all, the town of Sliema, once the location of villas and town houses, has been transforme­d from a summer resort to a twenty first century hub for Malta, with shopping malls and seaside restaurant­s as its most prominent landmarks.

The transforma­tion is even more striking when you look at the pictures from the 1980s in which the photograph­ed locations seem to depict another country and yet, one cannot shake the sense of looking at something remarkably familiar. This familiarit­y comes, partially, from the fact that not all the old buildings were torn down, some are still standing, thus allowing you to see the layers of the transforma­tion with the naked eye and, more importantl­y, raise questions as to whether such rapid developmen­t has in fact modernised or else polluted the architectu­ral landscape of Sliema.

Malta, like many European countries, has throughout its history been influenced by major architectu­ral styles: Renaissanc­e and Baroque were introduced in the 16th and 17th centuries with the arrival of the Order of St. John; Neoclassic­al and NeoGothic predominat­ed the minds of the architects since Malta became a part of the British Empire from the 1800s up until the 20th century; Art Nouveau, Art Deco, Italian Futurism, Rationalis­m, Modernism, Post-Modernism and Critical Regionalis­m gradually came into the expanding architectu­ral landscape of the island since the beginning of the 20th century, with the latter two continuing up until this day. Not to mention, the numerous new styles and trends joining with each new day.

From all the towns in the country, Valletta is without a doubt the most eye-catching example of some of the mentioned architectu­ral styles. Triq ir-Repubblika is the place to begin with, as it has at least one building from each century up until the time of the arrival of the Order of St. John: Maltese parliament (21st century), Court of Justice (20th century), Palazzo Ferreria (19th century), National Library of Malta (18th century), Church of Saint Francis of Assisi (17th century) and Grand Master’s Palace (16th century). And all of this fits in one street of a 0.61 km2 sized city. Yet, besides the size and the fact that many buildings represent a certain type of architectu­ral style with clearly distinguis­hable characteri­stics, the architectu­ral landscape of Valletta leaves a sense of unity despite being the most architectu­rally diverse city in Malta.

And if the UNESCO status has kept the architectu­ral scenery of Valletta from losing its sense of unity, Sliema, on the other hand, starting from the 1980s had begun to surrender it and became the birthplace of a peculiar architectu­ral style, Stratum,

which since then has gradually spread all over the country. The style might be viewed via many shades: a freedom and liberty of architectu­ral expression, a money driven exploitati­on, a combinatio­n of old and new architectu­re, a progressiv­e approach towards the demand of housing needs, or a way of gradually taking the sense of unity from architectu­ral landscapes transformi­ng them into a modern Lego

of glass, concrete and steel. The list is endless with as many definition­s as you like; however, and despite the nineteen-year-old Cultural Heritage ACT 2002,

Sliema is still surrenderi­ng its history, keeping the sense of unity intact, with almost each newly constructe­d building.

Of course, many things have changed since the 1980s and are still changing every single day – even in the business of constructi­on – with something more durable and practical introduced overnight. In the case of Malta, it is steel, concrete and glass, which has replaced the less reliable limestone and scarce resources of wood, leaving the latter two on the substitute bench if the main players will not perform as expected. Acceptable and understand­able, looking at the architectu­ral trends of the world. Nonetheles­s, and especially when speaking about Stratum, a new constructi­on project should take into considerat­ion the finest architectu­ral characteri­stics of the old and, if possible, have a shared detail with the buildings surroundin­g it. By doing at least one of the two, ideally both, the new project will not only preserve the best of the old, but, at the same time, become an incorporat­ed part of the architectu­ral scenery.

A superb example of the above, can be found at the crossroad of Triq it-Torri and Triq ix-Xatt ta’ Qui-Si-Sana (Picture 1). Here, the architect has taken a few characteri­stics of the old Piazzetta building and connected them to the new one, and in so doing allows the eye to notice the uniqueness of the two and at the same time recognise the building as one. The most evident features of this connection are the curved lines in the middle, following the shape of the traditiona­l Maltese balcony and the white colour, which evenly spreads throughout the building. That is how you can preserve the old, construct the new and maintain the sense of unity between the two. Noticeably, the façade of the villa is slightly pushed up front, giving the building a representa­tional look and creating a point of reference at which a tourist camera might stop and linger for a while.

A dreadful example of Stratum is located just few corners up Triq it-Torri, leading to St. Julian’s, in front of Il-Gabbana cafe and bistro (Picture 2). As is clearly visible, six new floors have been added to the original two with the red Maltese balconies: first, has a blue balcony and attempts to follow the original architectu­re from below; second, turns into something completely and oddly new; third and fourth, with its distinguis­hable black frame windows, make the building look more bizarre; fifth and six, not to mention the terrace on the roof, adds an additional layer of a completely new architectu­re. All of this in one building. However, as separate architectu­ral decisions they might make sense, especially if you slice them and look through the idea of layers. Yet, when seen as a whole, there is this hesitation to accept this building as one constructi­on, let alone believe its capabiliti­es of creating the sense of any unity. In other words, the only thing connecting all floors is the shape of the building. Not to mention the contrast with the yellowish building on the left.

Changes are inevitable in all part of the evolution process, pushing humanity towards perfection. Regardless, the current rapid developmen­t, even during the pandemic, leaves a black spot in one of the most important questions to be answered about the future of the architectu­ral landscape of the town of Sliema. If the trend will continue based on ignorance of the surroundin­g past, Sliema will transform into an architectu­ral circus and, crucially, into a town without any unique or distinctiv­e architectu­ral characteri­stics, let alone any sense of unity. But, if the restrictio­ns and certain requiremen­ts are taken seriously, there is a chance to preserve and at the same time put something unique on the world map. This is a difficult but unavoidabl­e decision to make before it is too late.

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