در فضای خارجی، دیوارهای برآمده و فرورفته در خم و قوس­‌های بالای سرشان پژواک یافته‌­اند. گرچه دیوارهای خارجی سفیدرنگ، که از بتن مسلح در محل ریخته­‌شده ساخته شده­‌اند، از دور صاف و صیقلی به نظر می‌­رسند، اما در نمای نزدیک سطح آنها را مخطط به چین و چروک خواهید یافت. برای دست­ یافتن به چنین افه­‌ی ضخیم و بافت­داری، معماران غلطک‌هایی از روی گونی­‌هایی با تار و پود وینیلی عبور داده، سپس برای ریختن، مواد چین و چروک­دار را بر تخته ­سه­ لا منگنه کرده‌­اند. با خشک شدن بتن و جمع ­کردن گونی­‌ها، به قول هال: «شما با چین و­ چروک­ هایی غیر ­تکراری مواجه خواهید شد.»
درباره‌­ی شباهت اجزای بام برآمده‌­ی بنا به آستین ­های برش­‌خورده و تاشده­‌ی پیراهن و شباهت بتن­‌های چروک­دار خارجی بنا به بافت ساختاری پیراهن سخن بسیار رفته است ــ هر دو توصیف درباره‌­ی محصولات تولیدکننده‌­ای که بنای اوّلیه‌­ی موزه­‌ی هنر هرنینگ را در این سایت ساخته است، به­ جا و مناسب می­‌نماید. ایـه دمیرد (Aage Damgaard)، مالک کارخانه‌­ی پیراهن ­دوزی اَنیلی (Angli)، که در سال 1939 تاسیس شده، یک کلکسیونر هنری نیز بود و به دعوت از هنرمندان علاقه داشت و از هنرمند کانسپچوال ایتالیایی پی­یرو مانتسـونی (1963-1933) دعوت کرد، که همانجا در کارخانه‌­هایش سکنا گزیند. در اواسط دهه­‌ی 60 میلادی، او کارخانه‌­ای را در بیـرک در حومه‌­ی هرنینگ بنا نهاد، و کلکسیونی که از آثار ماتسونی داشت، هسته‌­ی موزه­‌ای را تشکیل داد که در سال 1975 و به دنبال انتقال واحد تولید کارخانه به مکانی دیگر، در ساختمان کارخانه افتتاح شد. تقویت ­کننده­‌ی بصری کارخانه‌­ی اَنیلی، که در سال 1965 و بر اساس طرحی از س. اف. مولر و به شکل یک یقه‌­ی مصنوعیِ گرد ساخته شده، پارک­‌هایی هستند که توسط کارل تئودور سورنسن (Sørensen) طراحی و زیباسازی شده و فرم­‌های گرد را برای خلق اتاق‌­های دنج و دیوار درختی خارجی تکرار کرده است. پس از آن مجموعه با پذیرش یک مدرسه­‌ی طراحی (که به نام TEKO [تکو] خوانده می‌­شود) میزبان گروهی از سازه­‌ها با چیدمان خطی شد که بین سال­‌های 2004-1998 ساخته شده و علاوه بر آن یک موزه‌­ی کوچک، مجسمه­‌هایی در اندازه‌­های بزرگ، کارگاه قالیبافی و ساختمان‌­های اداری نیز بدان افزوده شده­‌اند. پروتوتیپ یک خانه که در سال 1970 توسط یرن اوتسن طراحی شده و از روی بام­‌های بزرگ و به شکل ناودان خود قابل شناسایی­ست، نزدیک موزه‌­ی هال اجرا شده است ــ یک عنصر دیگر در این بستر فیزیکی نامتعارف.

علی­رغم شباهت بام سازه به آستین پیراهن، هال توجهی به منشا و منبع الهام سهل­الوصول آن نکرده. او استدلال می‌­کند که طرح بام در واقع حاصل تمایل او به ورود نور روز از میان درزها و شکاف‌­های بین بازوهای استوانه‌­ای ­شکل بام سازه است، که با انعکاس یافتن از قوس­‌های گچی سفیدرنگ، پرتوی نوری لطیف و رقیق را برای تامین روشنایی لازم برای نمایش آثار هنری فراهم می‌­کنند. ورودی­‌های نور به شکل پنجره­‌های روی بام هستند که از دو لایه‌­ی شیشه­‌ی سندبلاست شیاردار به همراه عایق نیمه‌­شفاف فشرده­ شده بین دو لایه تشکیل شده­‌اند. چیزی شبیه به شیشه­ کاری مورد استفاده‌­ی هال در ساختمان بلوخ (Bloch Building) از موزه­‌ی نلسن­ـ اتکینز کانزاس سیتی در ایالت میزوری آمریکا. یک سازه­‌ی خرپایی فولادی چرخان با دهانه‌­ی دوطرفه فرم‌­های قوسی را که از بالا با پوشش مخصوص پشت بام و سفید رنگ پوشیده شده، حمایت کرده و گیره­‌های فولادی قوس ­ها را به بخش‌­های تختِ بام متصل می‌­کند. نوآه اوفه (Noah Yaffee)، همکار جانشین هال می‌­گوید: «ما در ارتباط تنگاتنگ با مهندس سازه [نیاس] کار می­‌کنیم تا با ساختن گالری‌­هایی با دهانه‌­های بزرگ بتوانیم بخش‌­های قوس­دار بام را که بر اجزای بتنی پیش­ ریخته سوارند، تنظیم کنیم.» گروه، چشم­ انداز بیرونی را بر اساس تکرار معکوس فرم­‌های قوس­دار بام طراحی کرده‌­اند: قابی از رف­های گرد که در استخرهای ویژه‌­ی تصفیه­‌ی آب باران انعکاس می‌­یابد. به دلیل محدود بودن بودجه (20 میلیون دلار)، هال برای نصب سیستم تولید انرژی زمین­ گرمایی برای خنک­سازی صفحه­‌ای، 20 هزار دلار از بودجه‌­ی شخصی خود خرج کرد (تامین حرارت بر عهده‌­ی سازمان‌­های منطقه­‌ای است). معماران سازه علاوه بر وارد کردن لوله‌­های گرمایش و سرمایش سازه به درون کف بتنی، با تعویض سیستم تهویه­‌ی سازه نیز در مصرف انرژی صرفه‌­جویی مضاعف کرده‌­اند.
درهم­ تنیدگی رویایی هنر، نور و معماری امکان هیجان ­انگیز مناسبی را برای برگزاری نمایشگاه‌­ها فراهم می­‌کند، و به همین سبب تعجبی ندارد که موزه جایزه­‌ی بین‌­المللی معماری سال 2010 را از موسسه­‌ی سلطنتی معماران بریتانیا دریافت کرد. ولی کمال مطلق، رویایی بیش نیست ــ و یا به عبارت دیگر در چنین پروژه‌­های نوآوری، حداقل باید بتوانیم به برخی از نقص‌­ها هم اشاره کنیم. برای نمونه، پنجره‌­های روی بام اغلب از زمان کاهش زاویه‌­ی نور در پایان روز، با سایه کور می‌­شود، و از منظر موزه‌­داری در کفایت سطح نور برای نمایش نقاشی­‌ها تردید و نگرانی به وجود می‌­آورد. بازدیدکننده­‌ها محل ورود به فضای موزه را، برای اینکه آن را مدخل اصلی به موزه به حساب آورند، به قدر کافی روشن نمی‌­یابند؛ رنبرگ خاطرنشان می­‌کند: «تا زمانی که جلوی موزه اجازه‌­ی توقف ماشین داده نشود، دشوار است بفهمیم موزه باز است یا نه.» با اینکه سیر گردش فضایی درون گالری مشخص و واضح و میدان ورودی موزه مطبوع و پذیرا است، بازدیدکنندگان ممکن است نتوانند به ­آسانی به پیاده­ روی دور کل فضای خارجی ساختمان ترغیب شوند، که یک دلیل آن می‌­تواند دیوارهای فرورفته‌­ای باشند که نمی­‌تواند راه کسی را که در گوشه­ کنار پرسه می­‌زند به طرف خود کج کنند. (و آب و هوای سرد هم مسلما چنین اشتیاقی را فرو می‌­نشاند.) اساسا، تلفیق ساختمان و زمین پدیده­ای بصری­ست که از آسمان به بهترین شکل دیده می‌­شود، و نه پدیده­ای که بتوان با راه رفتن از میان ساختمان آن را لمس کرد. اولویت در اینجا، تعامل عابرین پیاده با آثار هنر درون موزه است.

Herning Museum of Contemporary Art (HEART)
Art Outpost: Steven Holl Architects allows art to have autonomy within a sculptural enclosure in Denmark’s Herning Museum of Contemporary Art.

By Suzanne Stephens July 19, 2010

 Denmark
In museum circles, curators and artists are well known for kvetching about architects who compete with the art on view by foisting major design statements onto willing clients. Small wonder that when Steven Holl entered an invited competition in 2005 for the Herning Museum of Contemporary Art in central Denmark, he took seriously the admonition from Holger Reenberg, the director of the museum: “Do everything you want as long as it doesn’t compromise the art.” The museum, known by its coy (in English) acronym HEART, occupies 10.4 acres of Birk Centerpark, a singular art museum, sculpture park, design school, and office building enclave that was once the home of a shirt factory.
Holl’s abstractly conceived, 60,278-square-foot structure leaves alone the art galleries totaling 15,812 square feet. Two discrete precast-concrete volumes form the inner core of the museum, one for permanent exhibitions, the other for temporary ones, and movable walls of lightweight construction allow art to be displayed in orthogonally arranged spaces. The architectural whammy occurs above the hang, so to speak. Here the roof fills out the gestalt, with five white tubular shells bending and twisting to create convex ceilings that billow over the galleries and perimeter areas containing the lobby, bookshop, offices, café, library, and an auditorium for concerts. On the exterior, convex and concave walls echo in the elevation the curves overhead. Although the exterior white walls, made of poured-in-place reinforced concrete, seem rather blank from afar, up close you find the surface rutted with creases. To achieve this thickly textured effect, the architects had trucks drive over vinyl mesh tarp, then staple-gunned the wrinkled material to plywood forms for the pour. When the concrete dried and the tarp was yanked off, “you had wrinkles with no repetition,” says Holl. Much has been said about how Holl’s convex roof elements look like shirt sleeves, sliced and folded, and how the wrinkled exterior concrete resembles shirt fabric — both quite apropos of the products of the manufacturer who founded the original Herning Art Museum on the site. Aage Damgaard, owner of the Angli shirt factory, established in 1939, was also an art collector who liked to invite artists, including the Italian conceptual artist Piero Manzoni (1933—63), to take up residence at his factories. In the mid-1960s, Damgaard set up a factory in Birk on the outskirts of Herning, and his collection of Manzoni’s works formed the core of the museum that opened in the factory building in 1975 when production moved elsewhere. Backing up the Angli factory, designed in the shape of a round collar by C.F. Møller in 1965, are landscaped parks by Carl Theodor Sørensen that repeat its circular forms as a series of grand and intimate outdoor rooms. The complex soon attracted a design school (TEKO, as it is called), now housed in a series of rectilinear structures built between 1998 and 2004, plus a smaller museum, large-scale sculptures, a carpet factory, and office buildings. A prototype house designed by Jørn Utzon in 1970 and distinguished by large, scupper-shaped roofs, sits near Holl’s museum — one more element of this idiosyncratic physical context. In spite of the visual resemblance of the roof to shirt sleeves, Holl shrugs off the catchy provenance. He argues the roof’s design really derives from his desire for daylight to enter the interstices of spaces between the tubular arms, then bounce off the ceilings’ white plastered curves to cast a soft, ethereal glow for the artworks displayed below. The openings take the form of clerestories composed of two layers of sandblasted channel glass with translucent insulation sandwiched between—somewhat like the glazing Holl used in the Bloch Building of the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City, Missouri [record, July 2007, page 94]. A two-way-spanning steel-truss structure supports the curved forms, which are covered with a white roofing membrane on top, with steel hangers connecting the curved to the flat portions of the roof. “We worked closely with the structural engineer [Niras] to create large-span galleries where we could balance curved roof sections that sit on precast-concrete elements,” says Noah Yaffe, Holl’s associate in charge. The team designed the outdoor landscape to repeat in reverse the curved shapes of the roof: Rounded berms frame reflecting pools that filter the rainwater. Since the budget was tight ($20 million), Holl donated $20,000 of his fee so that a geothermal system could be installed for slab cooling (heating is provided by the district). In addition to inserting heating and cooling tubes in the concrete floors, the architects achieved additional energy savings by using a displacement ventilation system. The imaginative intersection of art, light, and architecture offers a fittingly dramatic setting for the exhibitions, and not surprisingly, the museum recently received one of the Royal Institute of British Architects’ International Architecture awards for 2010. But nothing is perfect — or at least certain aspects need to be addressed in such an innovative project. For example, the clerestories often have been blacked out with shades since the opening last fall, owing to curatorial concern about daylight levels for the paintings. Visitors (including this observer) have found the entrance not legible enough as a portal to the museum, and Reenberg notes it is hard to tell if the museum is open, since no parking is permitted in front. While the interior circulation through the galleries is clear, and the outdoor piazza welcoming, visitors may not be as easily drawn to walk around the entire exterior of the building, partly because concave walls don’t inflect one’s steps around a corner. (Admittedly, cold weather often dampens such a desire.) Essentially, the integration of the building and land is a visual one best seen from the air, not a kinesthetic one experienced on foot. Here, the interaction of the pedestrian with the art inside the museum takes precedence.

Museum curators and artists are famous for constantly complaining about architects who aim to compete with art on display by imposing their grand design ideas on an interested client. Therefore, it is no surprise that when Steven Holl participated in the 2005 competition for the design of the Herning Museum of Contemporary Art in central Denmark, he received a serious reminder from Holger Reenberg, the museum’s director, stating: “You will have freedom to do whatever you want, but only as long as the art in the museum is not compromised.”
The museum, known by its English name “HEART,” occupies a 2.4-hectare plot in the central Birk Park (Birk Centerpark). It is an exceptional art museum with a sculpture park, a design school, and a separate administrative building that was once a shirt-making factory.
What Holl envisioned abstractly in his mind is a structure covering 5,600 square meters, with the galleries occupying a total of 1,470 square meters. The museum’s core consists of two separate pre-cast concrete volumes—one for permanent exhibitions and the other for temporary exhibitions. The movable walls of the lightweight structures allow for artworks to be displayed in vertical layouts. If one could say, architectural challenges exist on another level. The roof, as the “gestalt” of the building, is the most defining element of the architecture. Its five cylindrical shells, which stretch, twist, and curve, form a protruding roof that slides and undulates over the galleries and adjacent spaces, including the lobby, bookstore, offices, café, library, and concert hall.
Externally, the walls, raised and recessed in arching curves overhead, echo the surrounding landscape. While the exterior white walls, made of cast-in-place reinforced concrete, appear smooth and polished from a distance, up close, you will find their surface textured with wrinkles. To achieve such a thick, textured effect, the architects ran rollers over burlap sacks with vinyl threads, then stapled the wrinkled material onto the concrete mold before pouring the concrete. As the concrete dried and the sacks were removed, Holl says, “You will encounter non-repetitive wrinkles.”
There has been much discussion about the resemblance of the building’s curved roof components to the cut and folded sleeves of a shirt and the resemblance of the building’s crumpled concrete exterior to the texture of a shirt’s fabric—both descriptions fitting the manufacturer whose original factory built the first Herning Art Museum on this site. Aage Damgaard, the owner of the Angli shirt factory, established in 1939, was also an art collector and enjoyed inviting artists. He invited Italian conceptual artist Piero Manzoni (1933–1963) to settle at his factory. In the mid-1960s, he built a factory in Birk on the outskirts of Herning, and the collection he amassed from Manzoni became the nucleus of the museum, which was inaugurated in 1975 after the factory’s production unit was relocated. Enhancing the visual impact of the Angli factory, which was built in 1965 based on a design by C.F. Møller and shaped like an artificial collar, were the parks designed and landscaped by Carl Theodore Sørensen, repeating rounded forms to create cozy rooms and walls of tree cover. Later, the collection hosted a design school (known as TEKO), and a group of structures in a linear arrangement was built between 1998 and 2004. Additionally, a small museum, large sculptures, a carpet weaving workshop, and office buildings were added. A prototype house, designed by Jørn Utzon in 1970 and recognizable by its large, gutter-like roofs, was constructed near Holl’s museum—another element in this unconventional physical context.
Despite the resemblance of the building’s roof to shirt sleeves, Holl did not focus on the easily accessible source of inspiration. He argues that the design of the roof was actually the result of his desire to allow daylight to enter through the gaps and cracks between the roof’s cylindrical arms, which, reflected off the white plaster arches, provide a delicate and diffuse light necessary for displaying artworks. The light sources are roof windows made of two layers of sandblasted, grooved glass, with semi-transparent insulation compressed between them. This is similar to the glasswork Holl used in his Bloch Building at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, Missouri, USA. A rotating steel truss structure with a two-way span supports the curved forms covered with a special roof coating and connects the steel clips of the arches to the flat parts of the roof. Holl’s collaborator Noah Yaffee says, “We work closely with the structural engineer [Nyas] to adjust the curved roof sections, which are mounted on pre-cast concrete elements, to accommodate large gallery spans.”
The exterior landscape was designed based on the reverse repetition of the curved roof forms: a frame of round shelves reflected in the special rainwater purification pools. Due to the limited budget (20 million dollars), Holl spent 20,000 dollars of his personal funds to install a geothermal energy system for cooling the building’s floors (heating is provided by regional organizations). In addition to incorporating heating and cooling pipes into the concrete floor, the architects saved energy by replacing the building’s ventilation system.
The dreamlike intertwining of art, light, and architecture provides an exciting opportunity for exhibitions, which is why it is no surprise that the museum received the 2010 Royal Institute of British Architects’ International Architecture Award. However, absolute perfection is but a dream—or, in other words, in such innovative projects, at least some flaws must be acknowledged. For instance, the roof windows often become obscured by shadow as the angle of sunlight decreases at the end of the day, raising doubts and concerns about the adequacy of light for displaying paintings. Visitors do not find the entrance to the museum sufficiently illuminated to recognize it as the main museum entrance. Reenberg notes, “Until parking in front of the museum is allowed, it’s difficult to tell whether the museum is open or not.” Although the circulation within the galleries is clear and defined, and the entrance plaza is inviting, visitors may not be easily encouraged to walk around the entire exterior of the building, partly due to recessed walls that fail to draw wanderers toward them. (Cold weather certainly dampens such enthusiasm.) Essentially, the integration of the building and the land is a visual phenomenon best appreciated from the sky, not something that can be physically touched by walking through the building. The priority here is the interaction of pedestrians with the artworks inside the museum.

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