Wednesday, 14 May 2014

The grotto and Shark Island, Sydney



As part of my final year studio we were given the choice of four sites to situate our design on. Without yet knowing the direction my studio would take, I chose a small island in Sydney over sites in Rome, Lisbon and Adelaide. Considering I was investigating the grotto in contemporary design, choosing a setting with an established history in grotto design seemed too easy, and Adelaide, my hometown, was something I was too familiar with. I wanted to challenge myself with something different for my final studio projects and thus I chose Shark Island.       
    

Figure 1[1] aerial view over Shark Island, Sydney.


It was Shark Island’s close association with water that really captured my interest and having determined the direction my research would take it seemed the logical choice. Almost fortuitously the island features numerous grotto-like nooks and man-made grottoes. Unfortunately these ‘grottoes,’ for want of a better word, were clearly designed to house bathrooms and storage on a minimal budget. The choice of grotto-like materials were a mere product of being conveniently at hand.  


Figure 2 & 3[2] one of Shark Island’s ‘grottoes,’ an empty shell that used to be a toilet block.


What I liked about basing my site in Australia was the lack of historical connection this country has with the grotto in architecture and landscape design. By placing my studio project in such an environment it seemed the perfect location to investigate whether the grotto is ready to re-emerge within contemporary design. At that stage however I had only just begun to scratch the surface of contemporary grotto projects.                       

Since then I have found many instances of art, architecture and design that have validated my research, proving that the grotto is still a relevant theme to architecture today as explored in my previous blog entries, although perhaps not as common as I would like. Some of the more exciting contemporary works of grotto-inspired architecture remain unrealised, or the result of university submissions.  It is uplifting to think that one day these designers might embed some of the language they have discovered in researching the grotto in their future architectural works.
           
After establishing the location of my site I then proceeded to bestow a function upon Shark Island. I toyed with various ideas, such as a monastery, a spa and healing complex, a library complex and a necropolis, however ultimately it was my research into the more experiential qualities of the grotto that cemented the direction my design work would take: a crematorium.
           
One of the key points of criteria was to ensure the facility was not privatised, which meant I had to design a crematorium complex that is accessible for all; the religious and non-religious, the wealthy, the middle class, and the poor. This also meant I had to provide a range of chapel spaces varying in scale.

Another key criteria point I needed to address was the idea of retention. What would I retain? Originally I approached this concept in terms of creating a memory island, and this in turn led me to create a virtual cemetery as part of my columbarium. Essentially it is a computer database allowing access to information, photos and videos of the deceased. It would allow the departed to leave behind a more physical memory of their time on earth.

Originally I cared little for retaining any of the existing infrastructure - indeed I still do, the picnic pavilions being ugly and irrelevant to my vision. However since visiting Shark Island I have seen the beauty that lies in the sandstone edges of the island. As a result I am in the process of adjusting my design to preserve and celebrate these encounters, replacing the narrow and uneven path with something sturdier to help people discover the charm of the eroded edge. I am also doing my best to retain the pines, palms and Moreton Bay figs that edge the existing picnic area.

Shark Island, much like the rest of Sydney, is comprised of sandstone, and this highly textured and patterned material became something I really wanted to utilise in my design. Not only would it provide some material familiarity to the bereaved (as it is featured extensively in historic Sydney architecture), but also its porous structure allows it to age beautifully.  It also has the added benefit of occasionally resembling tufa, a common material found throughout traditional artificial grotto design.

Figure 4 & 5 [3] shows the different types of sandstone.  


The idea of bestowing the island with a sense of familiarity was discovered in my reading of Robert Olen Butler’s short story, ‘The Grotto.’ What resonated with me was the way the protagonist described their experience of a foreign grotto following the death of her Mother. It provided her with an escape from the pleasure garden outside, and a space in which to reflect on her grief. There are moments of surprise and discomfort, but one thing that stood out was the way the familiarity of the tufa walls comforted her. Additionally the story also illustrated the way the grotto can speak to something within all of us, no matter our culture, as evident in the protagonist’s encounter with the Egyptian caretaker.[4] Indeed it would seem the cave is something that humans find inherently intriguing.


The historical use of caves or islands as places for the dead also underpinned my choice of creating a crematorium facility. One image I found particularly inspiring was Arnold Böckin’s ‘Isle of the Dead.’ Cypress trees themselves symbolise death,[5] and the monolithic stone isle rising up out of the sea carved with mysterious caves seems otherworldly. Catacombs offer similarly intriguing spaces that are still accessible today. Even the bible acknowledges the cave’s role in juxtaposition of life and death in the story of Jesus’ resurrection (although there are numerous other biblical instances which feature caves as burial spaces.)[6]


Figure 6[7] ‘Isle of the Dead,’ by Arnold Böckin, 1880.


Moving away from the historic and symbolic, I have also had to investigate the more practical elements of crematorium design. One of the common themes I discovered in existing memorial spaces was the way designers separated the different chapels so as not to intensify grief. Another was to hide away the crematorium process. In places like Centennial Park, the crematorium was an industrial shed, removed from the main chapel complex and inaccessible to the public. For Warren and Mahoney’s Harewood Memorial Gardens Crematorium (1963) it was important they hide the chimney from view.[8] I found this research a good starting point in understanding some of the concerns I would need to design for in my scheme.


Figure 7,[9] Centennial Park, Adelaide.


My research led me to question, how exactly would I create a grotto-like architecture in designing a crematorium facility?

As covered in my previous posts I could follow the path of Arranda/Lasch and create a design of significant geometrical complexity. Or perhaps take the approach of ARM to heart and look at façade treatment? On the other hand I could take on board the more symbolic elements as Kiesler did, or focus on creating a highly experiential atmosphere like Akhob.

Although my design is still in the schematic stages, I like to think I have drawn something from my observations on the contemporary case studies referenced above as well as many others, alongside my analysis of the more traditional grottoes. At this stage I do know that I will utilise much of the island’s existing sandstone, and enhance the island’s existing connection to water, perhaps through a series of well-placed pools. My spaces will seek to be highly meditative and tranquil, some more so than others, and feature cypress trees to replace those that may need to be removed.

Much of my design will attempt to be embedded into the existing island form, with a dark, wet and gritty sunken columbarium in the island’s centre, perhaps comprised of a series of labyrinthine corridors. As much as I would like to reference some of the more faceted and angular contemporary iterations of the grotto, I feel that the departure from conventional form might cause discomfort to those unfamiliar with the architectural intentions. 

Whatever my design will become, I hope that my multiple explorations into how grottoes and grotto-inspired design can be incorporated into architecture beyond the pavilion stage will illustrate the different ways this can be achieved.

Watch this space…In a months time I will post images of my crematorium complex. 



[1] Figure 1 courtesy of Google. "Shark Island, Point Piper, New South Wales." Google, https://maps.google.com.au/.
[2] Figure 2 & 3 courtesy of Jessica Alderslade, 2014
[3] Figure 4 & 5 courtesy of Jessica Alderslade, 2014
[4] Butler, Robert Olen. "The Grotto." Ploughshares 30, no. 1 (2004): 49-62.
[5] Gibson, Michael. Symbolism. Big Art S. edited by Gilles Neret america: Tachen America Llc, 2006.
[6] Miller, Naomi. Heavenly Caves: Reflections on the Garden Grotto. World Landscape Art & Architecture Series.  United States of America: George Braziller Inc., 1982. P. 29-34
[7] Figure 6 courtesy of Anonymous. "Arnold Böcklin."  http://www.artchive.com/artchive/B/boecklin.html.
[8] Mahoney, Warren and. "Harewood Memorial Gardens and Crematorium."  http://www.warrenandmahoney.com/en/portfolio/harewood-memorial-gardens-crematorium/.
[9] Figure 7 courtesy of Jessica Alderslade, 2014

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