The New York Times
February 10, 1995
Weekend, pp. C1, C24.
Architecture Review
Mourning The Gorgeous Mosaic That Was Sarajevo
By Herbert Muschamp
Once again, little Storefront for Art and Architecture in
SoHo has cast our big institutions into the shade by
staging a world-class show on a shoestring budget. "World
class" here stands for more than high praise.
"Warchitecture -- Sarajevo: A Wounded City" looks at a
major global crisis from an architectural perspective.
Prepared under harrowing wartime conditions by Midhat
Cesovic and four other members of the Bosnia and
Herzegovina Association of Architects, the show documents
the destruction of Sarajevo's architectural heritage during
the Serbian siege. Its mission is to inform the
international community about the extent of the damage and
to drum up financial support for rebuilding. The show has
already appeared in several European museums, including the
Pompidou Center in Paris. The presentation at Storefront
is, thus far, the only American stop scheduled.
The main part of the show consists of 40 black-and-white
photographs of destroyed or severely damaged buildlngs.
Spanning nearly 500 years of architectural history, they
range from the early 16th-century Mosque of Gazihusref Bey
to a pair of (shattered) glass office towers completed in
1987. Plainly mounted neath panes of glass, and accompanied
by a brief account of its history, the pictures are divided
into four groups, each corresponding to a period in the
city's history. This arrangement helps us trace the
different cultural strands that are woven into the urban
fabric.
The different styles of building stand for more than
changing taste. They represent a crossroads between East
and West, the layering and mingling of cultural influences
from the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires. Maps and
diagrams pinpoint the location of the buildings in the
cityscape, and gauge the extent of the damage in each part
of town. In effect, the show narrates the creation of
Sarajevo through images of its destruction.
Some may have difficulty discerning the human dimension in
these images. With people's lives at stake, how can we work
up sympathy for ruined buildings? Those who look closely,
however, will recognize that what is being attacked here is
not roofs, not walls not beauty. The target here is a
symbol: the dense interweaving of styles and building types
represents the ability of Muslims, Serbs, Croats and Jews
to live together in one city. It is this model of
heterogeneity that has been pummeled by the artillery
shells.
Storefront's cramped quarters somewhat diminish the show's
impact. In Paris, before entering the large, darkened
gallery where the black-and-white pictures were on view,
you passed a screen displaying color slides of the Sarajevo
cityscape before the shelling began. The sound of the slide
projector sliced through the gallery's muted air like an
executioner's blade. Then, as you turned to leave the
gallery, you saw a projected color video of several
demolished landmarks, most hauntingly, perhaps, the
National and University Library, a Moorish-style edifice of
1896. The camera scanned silently over the rubble of the
library's central, skylighted atrium, as if searching for
the soul of the city itself.
At Storefront, the color slides are dimly projected onto a
white wall while the video plays on a small monitor in the
corner. And, of course, the small downtown gallery lacks
the Pompidou's civic stature and its capacity to amplify an
appeal to conscience. Yet it is hardly fair to criticize
Storefront for these shortcomings. Thanks to its initiative
New Yorkers have the opportunity to see the show, and the
gallery has made the most of its resources. But the show
points up New York's need for an adequately equipped,
internationally informed showcase for urban exhibitions.
On the other hand, when you consider the savagery of life
in Sarajevo, it seems petulant to complain about meager
resources in New York. This becomes painfully clear at a
related exhibition, now on view in the second floor gallery
of the Department of Architecture and Environmental Design
at Parsons School of Design in Greenwich Village. The
exhibition, "Sarajevo: Dream and Reality," presents 14
projects by student architects and professionals from
Sarajevo that respond creatively to the city's destruction.
A wall text describes the conditions under which these
projects were produced: no gas or electricity; broken
computers, photocopy machines and other equipment; paper
shortages, classes reduced to 30-minute sessions held in
constantly shifting locations.
The mix of established and aspiring architects drives home
a point: the city's architects are guardians not only of
history, but of continuity as well. With their present in
ruins, the architects' abiding concern is to sustain a link
between the past and the future generation of designers who
must face the task of rebuilding. The exhibition, sponsored
like the Storefront show by the National Institute for
Architectural Education, has been installed in a plain
wooden setting designed by Michael Morris, the show's
curator, and Susanna Steiff.
The student projects are concentrated in the district of
Zetra, the parkland surrounding Sarajevo's blasted Olympic
stadium. The war-ravaged area, near the Sarajevo School of
Architecture, must seem like a symbol of dashed hopes for
the ideal of world peace signified by the Olympic Games.
The students' designs (plans for new recreational
facilities and other public uses) convey a heroic
determination to keep hope alive.
The professional architects have focused on designs for the
restoration of demolished buildings, along with some plans
for new ones. A chilling project by Zoran Dorsner depicts
what might be called a model dwelling for siege conditions.
A set of floor plans traces the transformation of a modern
three-bedroom apartment (one of 35,000 units in a complex
of burned-out high rises originally built for the Olympic
village) into a grim survival shelter. In place of sofas,
dining table and a master bedroom suite, there are
rainwater collection barrels a sandbag protection wall and,
jammed through the empty socket of a window, a makeshift
chimney attached to a wood-burning stove.
Though occasioned by catastrophe, these two shows are
heartening because they highlight a critical role for
architects in a changing world. The architects who created
these shows are not just designers of new buildings, or
conservators of old ones. They are catalysts for cultural
exchange. They are makers of places, but they are also
actors on the world stage. As the Storefront show
demonstrates, Sarajevo is a monument both to cultural
difference and to the breakdown of tolerance. The refusal
of these architects to surrender to that breakdown
transcends their city's fate.
"Warchitecture -- Sarajevo: A Wounded City" remains at the
Storefront for Art and Architecture, 97 Kenmare Street,
SoHo, through March 18. There is a symposium in conjunction
with the show at Dia Center for the Arts, 155 Mercer
Street, SoHo, tomorrow from 11:30 A.M. to 4:30 P.M. Tickets
$15 ($10 for students). Information: (212) 431-5795.
"Sarajevo: Dream and Reality" remains at the Parsons School
of Design, Department of Architecture and Environmental
Design, 25 East 13th Street, second floor, Greenwich
Village, through Feb. 22.
END
February 10, 1995
Weekend, pp. C1, C24.
Architecture Review
Mourning The Gorgeous Mosaic That Was Sarajevo
By Herbert Muschamp
Once again, little Storefront for Art and Architecture in
SoHo has cast our big institutions into the shade by
staging a world-class show on a shoestring budget. "World
class" here stands for more than high praise.
"Warchitecture -- Sarajevo: A Wounded City" looks at a
major global crisis from an architectural perspective.
Prepared under harrowing wartime conditions by Midhat
Cesovic and four other members of the Bosnia and
Herzegovina Association of Architects, the show documents
the destruction of Sarajevo's architectural heritage during
the Serbian siege. Its mission is to inform the
international community about the extent of the damage and
to drum up financial support for rebuilding. The show has
already appeared in several European museums, including the
Pompidou Center in Paris. The presentation at Storefront
is, thus far, the only American stop scheduled.
The main part of the show consists of 40 black-and-white
photographs of destroyed or severely damaged buildlngs.
Spanning nearly 500 years of architectural history, they
range from the early 16th-century Mosque of Gazihusref Bey
to a pair of (shattered) glass office towers completed in
1987. Plainly mounted neath panes of glass, and accompanied
by a brief account of its history, the pictures are divided
into four groups, each corresponding to a period in the
city's history. This arrangement helps us trace the
different cultural strands that are woven into the urban
fabric.
The different styles of building stand for more than
changing taste. They represent a crossroads between East
and West, the layering and mingling of cultural influences
from the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires. Maps and
diagrams pinpoint the location of the buildings in the
cityscape, and gauge the extent of the damage in each part
of town. In effect, the show narrates the creation of
Sarajevo through images of its destruction.
Some may have difficulty discerning the human dimension in
these images. With people's lives at stake, how can we work
up sympathy for ruined buildings? Those who look closely,
however, will recognize that what is being attacked here is
not roofs, not walls not beauty. The target here is a
symbol: the dense interweaving of styles and building types
represents the ability of Muslims, Serbs, Croats and Jews
to live together in one city. It is this model of
heterogeneity that has been pummeled by the artillery
shells.
Storefront's cramped quarters somewhat diminish the show's
impact. In Paris, before entering the large, darkened
gallery where the black-and-white pictures were on view,
you passed a screen displaying color slides of the Sarajevo
cityscape before the shelling began. The sound of the slide
projector sliced through the gallery's muted air like an
executioner's blade. Then, as you turned to leave the
gallery, you saw a projected color video of several
demolished landmarks, most hauntingly, perhaps, the
National and University Library, a Moorish-style edifice of
1896. The camera scanned silently over the rubble of the
library's central, skylighted atrium, as if searching for
the soul of the city itself.
At Storefront, the color slides are dimly projected onto a
white wall while the video plays on a small monitor in the
corner. And, of course, the small downtown gallery lacks
the Pompidou's civic stature and its capacity to amplify an
appeal to conscience. Yet it is hardly fair to criticize
Storefront for these shortcomings. Thanks to its initiative
New Yorkers have the opportunity to see the show, and the
gallery has made the most of its resources. But the show
points up New York's need for an adequately equipped,
internationally informed showcase for urban exhibitions.
On the other hand, when you consider the savagery of life
in Sarajevo, it seems petulant to complain about meager
resources in New York. This becomes painfully clear at a
related exhibition, now on view in the second floor gallery
of the Department of Architecture and Environmental Design
at Parsons School of Design in Greenwich Village. The
exhibition, "Sarajevo: Dream and Reality," presents 14
projects by student architects and professionals from
Sarajevo that respond creatively to the city's destruction.
A wall text describes the conditions under which these
projects were produced: no gas or electricity; broken
computers, photocopy machines and other equipment; paper
shortages, classes reduced to 30-minute sessions held in
constantly shifting locations.
The mix of established and aspiring architects drives home
a point: the city's architects are guardians not only of
history, but of continuity as well. With their present in
ruins, the architects' abiding concern is to sustain a link
between the past and the future generation of designers who
must face the task of rebuilding. The exhibition, sponsored
like the Storefront show by the National Institute for
Architectural Education, has been installed in a plain
wooden setting designed by Michael Morris, the show's
curator, and Susanna Steiff.
The student projects are concentrated in the district of
Zetra, the parkland surrounding Sarajevo's blasted Olympic
stadium. The war-ravaged area, near the Sarajevo School of
Architecture, must seem like a symbol of dashed hopes for
the ideal of world peace signified by the Olympic Games.
The students' designs (plans for new recreational
facilities and other public uses) convey a heroic
determination to keep hope alive.
The professional architects have focused on designs for the
restoration of demolished buildings, along with some plans
for new ones. A chilling project by Zoran Dorsner depicts
what might be called a model dwelling for siege conditions.
A set of floor plans traces the transformation of a modern
three-bedroom apartment (one of 35,000 units in a complex
of burned-out high rises originally built for the Olympic
village) into a grim survival shelter. In place of sofas,
dining table and a master bedroom suite, there are
rainwater collection barrels a sandbag protection wall and,
jammed through the empty socket of a window, a makeshift
chimney attached to a wood-burning stove.
Though occasioned by catastrophe, these two shows are
heartening because they highlight a critical role for
architects in a changing world. The architects who created
these shows are not just designers of new buildings, or
conservators of old ones. They are catalysts for cultural
exchange. They are makers of places, but they are also
actors on the world stage. As the Storefront show
demonstrates, Sarajevo is a monument both to cultural
difference and to the breakdown of tolerance. The refusal
of these architects to surrender to that breakdown
transcends their city's fate.
"Warchitecture -- Sarajevo: A Wounded City" remains at the
Storefront for Art and Architecture, 97 Kenmare Street,
SoHo, through March 18. There is a symposium in conjunction
with the show at Dia Center for the Arts, 155 Mercer
Street, SoHo, tomorrow from 11:30 A.M. to 4:30 P.M. Tickets
$15 ($10 for students). Information: (212) 431-5795.
"Sarajevo: Dream and Reality" remains at the Parsons School
of Design, Department of Architecture and Environmental
Design, 25 East 13th Street, second floor, Greenwich
Village, through Feb. 22.
END