INTERSTICES 12Oculus from below. Photo: author, 2011 147 1 “Ich stelle mir den Himmel vor wie eine Bibliothek” (in Renner 2004). Law Faculty Library at the University of Zürich by Santiago Calatrava Ross Jenner Can there be an inside without an outside? Caves, underground constructions and interiors inserted into other buildings seem to be examples of such. Then there are more speculative configurations: monads, for example, or the library conceived by Jorge Luis Borges where the notion of Nicholas of Cusa lurks (as it does in Sloter- dijk’s Sphären) of a Being whose periphery is infinite and whose centre is every- where, which is to say, where there is nothing outside of ‘it’. As Borges writes, The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite and perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries, with vast air shafts between, surrounded by very low railings. From any of the hexagons one can see, interminably, the upper and lower floors. (Borges 1972: 51) The Law library by Santiago Calatrava at the University of Zürich is a notable ex- ample of an embedded and (for the most part) hidden insertion of a public interior space. It is difficult to understand why the building has not received greater atten- tion. Perhaps, probably, this neglect is due less to a Calatrava-overload than to the absence of an exterior, that is, of a conspicuous thing, object or ‘icon’. This library, moreover, owes something to Borges. Calatrava, rephrasing Borges at the build- ing’s opening as “I imagine Heaven like a library”,1 we may speculate, had his idea in mind when designing it. Of the siting, Calatrava deemed it “wonderful to build in the university quarter of Zürich, in this context rich in the tradition of Karl Moser and Gottfried Semper. I have attempted to make something contemporary which corresponds with this historical fabric.” The intervention ties in “with the tradition of inner courtyards in the University and ETH” (Calatrava & Buchmann 2004). When asked if it was Views from ground floor. Photos: author, 2011 INTERSTICES 12 a pity that such a precious work was hidden humbly in a courtyard, scarcely vis- ible from outside, he replied: “When you say ‘humbly’, you’re quite right. This li- brary originated under delicate circumstances, since Herrmann Fietz’s building is under conservation protection. I tackled the project with great respect for the existing structure.” Fietz’s original L-shaped building dates from 1908 and was de- signed as a chemistry laboratory. Twenty years later, it was complemented with a further addition (lower by two stories), creating a central courtyard. Such con- straints led Calatrava to think along Semper’s lines: “I believe I have made a virtue of necessity.” (Calatrava & Buchmann 2004) The solution was to leave the existing building untouched (apart from integrating the disjointed rooflines), building the new library “as a completely independent structure, suspended within the inner courtyard and supported against its walls at just four points” (Calatrava 2004), so that the distinction between old and new is unmistakable.2 The separation works both statically and organisationally: since a library can have only one entrance and exit, the professors alone have keys to the connecting doors on each level. The galleries are supported from the two lateral concrete cores and by steel columns on the side, partially integrated with book stacks. A lift (à la John Portman), staircase and access to the building services are located at each end of the galleries. On entry,3 the gaze is drawn upwards, automatically, inevitably, to the building’s most striking accent, technically and artistically: the lenticular, glazed cupola with hydraulically activated lamella sun-shading. Below it, as if freely suspended in air, hover six elliptical galleries. Typical of Calatrava, the upper structure draws on natural analogies: the main girder resembles a spine and the individual cantilevered beams are welded to its ribs. This oculus would seem also to bring together primordial metaphors of bodi- ly apertures, including the ungendered: the eye and eyelid. Calatrava’s aperture has an element of intelligent design: it opens and closes to admit or reflect light, letting the building regulate its own climate. A good amount of natural light is provided during the day, with or without shutters, reducing the need for artificial 2 The illuminated interstices between the lenticular ‘exterior’ of the library and the orthogonal interior of the former courtyard lead to unpredictable encounters. 3 The new entry to the building is down- played, as if arrival and departure were irrelevant by comparison with the serene immanence of the interior. In fact, the entry is somewhat counter-intuitive: either the patron walks around the building to the street behind, in order to descend to reception, or winds from the original main entrance through a series of dark and compressed passages to it. Top: Interstice between library and pre- existing courtyard. Photo: author, 2011 Right: Top level gallery work stations. Photo: author, 2011 149 light and thus lending the space a greater vividness. The passing of the day and the varying light and weather conditions follow almost tangibly. A thermal stack principle is employed in ventilation: air at four to six degrees warmer than outside concentrates at the cupola and passes out by vents, drawing up fresh air sucked in at the bottom of the building. Fresh air entering the build- ing is modified passively by a heat exchange system connected to ground sensors, 43 of which are installed at a depth of 100 metres to heat or cool the water to about 18°. This then passes through a heat exchanger, which in turn cools or heats air taken from outside. The fresh air is either fed directly into the library or used for the cooling ceilings built into the attic story, maintaining the temperature of a Dantean Paradiso.4 Expanding upwards in a funnel to the cupola, the galleries accommodate indi- vidual reading stations orientated inwards, around the rim of the timber parapets facing the atrium. On all levels up to 500 readers may be seated around it; those on either side, however, are shielded from view while only a few on the opposite side of the building’s empty core are visible. Herein, as well as the spiral, stands a key difference from what might be presumed a precedent, Wright’s Guggenheim, where a restless procession of circulating spectators is put on display around the central atrium. By contrast, also, in the vastness of Asplund’s Stockholm Public Li- brary, attention is drawn to the peripheral enclosure, the cylinder of books. 4 For further technical information, see Strehler and Niederer (2006). Section and plans (left: level 0; right: level 6) by Calatrava office. Courtesy Corbin-Hillman Communications, NY INTERSTICES 12 The book, in the intense silence of reading, is another interior without an exterior. In a university, however, this interiority is part of a larger configuration: the soli- tary reader is immersed in a collective: Reading is a linear experience, and an individual one. A library, espe- cially one built for a university, must therefore be a place where the col- lective experience can give way to solitary reflection. Students and fac- ulty should be able to feel they are part of a shared scholarly enterprise, and small gathering places – parlatoria – should be available for discus- sions. But the library as a whole must be a quiet place, which encourages intimacy between the reader and the book. (Calatrava 2004) The study areas are closed off at the rear by bookshelves, behind which is another light well bringing daylight into the old part of the building. The book stacks are pushed against the outer perimeter, establishing a simple grid that makes locat- ing books easy while contributing (together with the acoustic baffles formed by the timber slats with their substrate) to the reading areas’ quietness. Top: Gallery workstations. Photo: Thomas Stein, 2007. Flickr Bottom left: Top level gallery. Photo: author, 2011 Bottom right: Gallery soffits. Photo: Renato Silver, 2007. Flickr Views at top level. Photos: author, 2011 151 The hovering (levitating, even) character of the interior derives not only from the self-supporting statical configuration of the galleries, but also from the daylight flooding in, reflecting off the white stone of the ground floor, the white-painted steel and the light maple surfaces (Canadian maple for the floors, European for the balustrades and soffits). These finishes combine to produce a warm glow of reflect- ed light between the platforms. The very vacancy of the bottom kindles the desire to ascend. Calatrava mentions – and seems to enjoy – the paradox that books are heavy but knowledge immaterial, that is (presumably), weightless. He elaborates: The library floats in the courtyard as if it were an enormous piece of fur- niture. The library as furniture – this idea was already there in the Re- naissance and Baroque. Think of the Medicean Laurenzana in Florence or the Stiftsbibliothek in St. Gallen. (Calatrava & Buchmann 2004) No, Calatrava’s library is not the Library of which Borges writes (even an inatten- tive reader will have noticed from the start): the air shafts are not vast, nor the railings very low at all. The geometry is baroque but the galleries are elliptical, not hexagonal. The floors, above all, are not interminable. But Borges’ library, of course, is un-buildable (or already built – infinitely). His is devoted to utter, anony- mous, expressionless, silence.5 Calatrava has built a cosmological image here, am- ply, with ease, and with greater anonymity and silence than he has ever achieved before, and maybe since. References Artìs, C. M. (2002). Borges nel suo labririnto. In Silenzi eloquenti. Borges, Mies van der Rohe, Ozu, Rothko, Oteiza (pp. 17 – 27; S. Pierini, Trans.). Milan: Christian Marinotti Edizioni. Borges, J. L. (1972). The Library of Babel. In Donald A. Yates and James E. Irby (Eds.), Labyrinths; selected stories and other writings [translated from the Spanish]. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Calatrava, S. (2004). Architect’s Statement (unpublished manuscript). Courtesy of Corbin- Hillman Communications, New York. Calatrava, S. & Buchmann, S. (2004). “Wissen ist schwerelos – das wollte ich sichtbar machen”. Interview with Calatrava. UZH News, 21.11. 04. Retrieved September 5, 2011, from http://www.uzh. ch/news/articles/2004/1363.html Renner, S. (2004). Der Himmel ist eine Bibliothek. Retrieved September 5, 2011, from http://www. uzh.ch/news/articles/2004/1392.html Strehler, R. & Niederer U. (2006). The New Law Library of the University of Zurich, Liber Quarterly, Volume 16 Issue 2. Retrieved September 2, 2011, from http://liber.library.uu.nl/ 5 See Artís (2002). View across interstice to workstations at first half-level. Photo: Thomas Stein, 2007. Flickr