They say that Baku is unrecognizable. For the first time in this city, nicknamed at the beginning of the last century, during the first oil boom, “the Paris of the Caucasus”. But the fact that this place is constantly changing can be seen immediately. The spacious motorway, built relatively recently by a German company, leading from the airport to the center, carries me past comfortable mansions and new residential and office high-rises, along brand new avenues and boulevards and squares buried in greenery. The Caspian Sea has already appeared in the distance and the world's largest flag is seen waving over the coast - the national flag of independent Azerbaijan, mounted on a flagpole, which until recently was the highest in the world (it was outdone by Tajikistan). And the time is clearly not far off when the White City will rise on the site of the current Black City - the region of oil refineries, where hotels, residential and shopping and entertainment complexes are already being built with might and main.
Already today, there is a building in Baku that allows you to look into the future, not only of this rapidly developing city, but also of architecture in general. We are talking about the Heydar Aliyev Center, built according to the project of the architectural diva Zaha Hadid.
The Hadid building is located at the intersection of various highways and during a few days in Baku it often came into my field of vision. Each time it arose unexpectedly and in different ways, flirtatiously flaunting its flexible lines and fluid forms. And now the car dives under the cable-stayed bridge, smoothly rises in an arc to the overpass of a complex road junction … and suddenly, because of the dense rows of traditional buildings, something appears …
In recent years, architects have often introduced their projects through computer animations that allow them to fly at high speed around and inside buildings that have not yet been built. It looks amusing and spectacular, but in reality architecture is perceived in a completely different way - slowly, in fragments, from the height of human growth.
But in Baku, the detached Hadid building is planted quite high, in the middle of a vast green field without a single tree, and for many acquaintance with it begins from the window of a fast moving car. The unusual sculptural volume is perfectly visible from a great distance, and you can circle around it just like in virtual space on a computer screen. Here Hadid demonstrated a fundamentally new approach to the creation of an architectural object: she created something that is not even associated with a building. Her architectural creation is almost completely dematerialized into a kind of synthetic landscape, abstracted from everything around, drawing in, alluring into its convex-concave geometry.
The mesh shell of the complex organically "emerges" from under the grass cover of the park and, with the help of waves smoothly passing one into another, forms an unusually fluid form of the entire complex. Only a few angles allow us to notice here such traditional architectural elements as vertical glass surfaces of facades and windows and doors embedded in them. Otherwise, this is pure sculpture and it is impossible to determine what is inside.
The premises of the Heydar Aliyev Museum and the concert hall, as well as exhibition and conference halls located in the Center, do not appear in any way on the surface of the smooth, streamlined shape. They are skillfully, without a single fold, “wrapped” in a white “blanket” of the roof. The roof is so smooth in places that it seems as if it will not be difficult to climb onto it. But this is not at all the case. Like a huge whale, the building repels anyone who dares to approach it. However, there will certainly be some daredevils who will be able to climb to the very top. It’s very tempting.
The Hadid building is incredibly captivating. I experienced the same fascination with the shape of the building when I first looked at the Sydney Opera House. In both cases, the breathtaking sculptural appearance of the exterior makes one forget that buildings must also carry certain functions. No wonder the architect of the Sydney Opera, the great Jorn Utson, without false modesty and, I note, not without reason, said: “Millennia will pass, and what will remain? Pyramids, Parthenon and the Sydney Opera.
If in Sydney more interest in the form than in the interior was due to the fact that the author was not allowed to develop an internal solution to his own masterpiece, then in Baku the matter is different: the fantastically liberated outer shell hides a very specific building inside, although not quite ordinary (even my guide admitted that he often loses orientation in it), with all its functions and a whole set of architectural elements: columns, flights of stairs, handrails, window frames, and so on.
You say, what about without them? Is it worth it so categorically to deny these and other familiar and necessary interior details? In my opinion, it's worth it. For example, the National Museum of Art of the XXI century (MAXXI) in Rome, designed by the same Hadid, inside is solved more successfully in terms of the integrity and "smoothness" of the space. I do not exclude that the larger scale of the building in Baku did not allow even such an outstanding master as Hadid to bring the exterior and interior to a more harmonious combination.
In 2006, I asked Hadid's partner, Patrick Schumacher, the following question: “Hadid architecture is often characterized as radical, fluid, curvilinear, distorted, fragmented, spatially complex, and so on. But what exactly is she trying to achieve?"
Here is Schumacher's answer: “It seems to me that the goal is ultimately to create freer, more supportive and communicative public spaces. Modern life presupposes participation in different events, the presence at the same time in different places, and this leads to the search for a new space, which breaks up into interpenetrating levels, layers and even dimensions. The need arises for constantly changing spaces. These spaces are flexible but not neutral. They are very articulate. The idea is to achieve beauty and efficiency in modern life. We perceive complex, multi-contextual and polycentric spaces as beautiful."
The center in Baku is a worthy attempt to create a truly progressive architecture. But one cannot fail to notice the discrepancy between the external and internal spaces in it. Although this, rather, speaks not so much about the insolvency of a particular project, but about the peculiarities of the architecture of today in general. The opinion that modern architecture supposedly erases the boundaries between the interior and the landscape does not correspond to reality for a long time. In the vast majority of today's projects, interior and exterior spaces are solved as independent from each other, often even by different architectural teams. The departure from such key post-war building materials as reinforced concrete led to a significant "thinning" of architecture. Modern buildings are often designed as facade, decorative solutions, no more. Their structural elements turn out to be invisible, hidden by hinged cladding materials outside and interior decor inside. That is why there is no longer any point in looking for elegant design solutions, and many buildings in construction look careless and even the most spectacular works take on a finished look only a few days before the end of construction, and up to a third of the total budget can be spent on beautiful facades!
Modernist buildings also looked great during construction. Expressive supports, beams, awnings and other elements did not need any decoration. Beauty is in the very logic of such complete, laconic solutions, when the object's “body” is involved directly, and not its “outfit”. Such were the modernist projects of Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, Marcel Breuer, Eero Saarinen and Harry Seidler.
The main feature of the Aliyev Center is the roof-covering, whose spectacular flexible shape is created by a structural frame approximately one meter thick, made of steel tubes with a diameter of 10 centimeters each. In a position suspended above the ground, the frame is held by vertical supports invisible from the outside. On the outside, the frame is clad with slabs of cast stone or metal panels, uniformly painted white, with each slab and panel having its own dimensions and curves. Inside, the frame is encased in flexible sheets of dry plaster and is perceived as a solid shell without visible seams. Is it worth mentioning how much manual labor was expended here? But the result was worth the effort. In such projects, the quality of execution is no less important than the idea, and, by and large, the builders succeeded in the form. However, not the first time: some sections are being patched and rebuilt to this day.
From the guide, I heard a legend that the signature of Aliyev himself had inspired such an unusual form of the architect. What can they not invent for the sake of a beautiful story! If we talk about the signature, then not Aliyev, but Zaha Hadid. In Baku, she managed to sign the way she wanted. This deserves great respect.
