For some artists, there’s greatness in accommodation, in being a chameleon, not an auteur. Architect Christina Seilern is concerned neither with a pre-conceived aesthetic nor producing “radical” architecture. Rather, she aims to build what she calls “good architecture”, which reaches to the essence of the problem and adapts to the specificities of different locations, cultures and patrons. In this way, every project becomes a moment of discovery, where an idea is allowed to mature and to take its own path. Seilern has an international background and launched her own flourishing practice in London ten years ago, tackling a wide array of projects in various countries. She has built private residences, restaurants, theaters and mixed-used complexes in extremely different sites, ranging from mountain slopes to the African wilderness through historical cities, successful thanks to a flexible approach.
Can you tell us something about the path that led to where you stand professionally?
I was born in Switzerland. I lived there till I was eighteen. I went to America to study science. In Boston the shift of scale was awe-inspiring and I decided to give architecture a try. My very first class was the beginning of my architectural love.
I was at Wellesley and MIT for four years as an undergraduate, then I spent one year in Paris. It was during the recession in 1992. There were no jobs in architecture. I was in banking and realized it wasn’t for me. I went to Columbia University to do a master’s degree.
During my studies at Columbia I went to a lecture held by [architect] Rafael Vinaly. Although it was the period when deconstruction was fashionable, he talked about the Tokyo forum and in particular about one detail. I was struck by his love of craftsmanship. I worked for him in New York. A few years later I went to see him to tell him that I was going to leave my job because I wanted to move to London. Rafael’s reaction was: “let’s set up an office in London”.
That sounds amazing, was it not unusual for somebody as young as you were at the time to receive a proposal like that?
I was twenty-nine, which, in architecture, is like being in kindergarten. But Rafael is very impulsive. We worked very well together. He had always wanted to set up something in Europe. It was completely unplanned. I was at a very early stage, and I did not know anyone in London. Something like what Rafael asked me to do forces you to go beyond what you expect you can do.
It must have been quite a challenge…
Yes, it was. Luckily two weeks after I accepted Rafael’s offer he got a job in Europe. It was serendipity, everything fell together. Yet we still had to break a market: London is a village in terms of its architectural community. We pitched for a performing arts center in Leicester. The only way to present ourselves was to come forth as the odd ones out. We argued that all the architectural firms involved in the competition could manage a project, but what distinguished us was how we responded to the client’s brief. We made it.
Was leaving a large practice to set up your own studio yet another challenge?
People thought I should do interior design. At first it was difficult to get projects and to hire staff. It took us some time, but now we are getting interesting projects and excellent people apply to work here. It feels like we are breaking into the larger projects. We have been approached by the developer of a Swiss ski resort. We are doing two restaurants for him. Now we have also been asked to conceive a concert hall for the same resort.
I suppose your breakthrough assignment was the house in East Africa for which you received various prizes, including a RIBA award?
Yes, it was a great opportunity. The client had ambition. He wanted to make a mark in the country where he was building his home, he wanted to show he was there to stay, he wanted to give the locals a sense of stability. It was not just about getting a nice house. He asked: “how can we make a piece of architecture?”. In order to do very good architecture you need to have the client on your side.
This African house has been compared to Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater…
I never thought of this till I read about it. It all started with the location: a rock, breath-taking views and a dam below with reflections. The cantilivered roofs were conceived to create a space to live outside being protected from the sun. They also frame the views and take your eye out to the horizon. We aimed at creating a floating structure, embodying the notion of unstable equilibrium, like a dancer on her toes, to convey the idea of lightness. It was the opposite of [Norman] Foster expressing structure. We wanted to make the building light and hovering. It happens through various details: for instance one can’t tell how the roofs sit on the ground, we hid columns. The winter living areas at the upper level are set within transparent enclosures that underscore the sense of living immersed in the surrounding landscape. A small infinity pool creates a visual link between the dam reservoir and the lower levels of the house.
Which other projects have been propelling your reputation?
One important project that we have been working on for the last eight years is in Lithuania. We are dealing with a large historical complex. It was a palace, a monastery, then a hospital in Soviet times. After the break-up of the Soviet Union the building was abandoned. Three brothers moved there in the 1990s, established a successful business and purchased the site to redevelop it. The planning system was very young in Lithuania, a politically young country. This proved to be a great opportunity.
We set about to learn about the existing planning regulations and were then able to discuss them with the local authorities, who were willing to question them and to adapt them to suit our projects. We convinced them that we had to do new structures for the lifts, that one did not want to mimic the Baroque style of the historical complex, because it would kill the composition. We viewed our additions not as extensions, but as carefully balanced insertions, evoking rather than replicating the historical fabric. We proposed reflective structures, with these additions clad in highly polished stainless steel. The new buildings blend into their surroundings through this reflective quality.
Another concern was the requirement to insert skylights in the tiled roofs. These openings would kill the Baroque look. So we built a metal lattice that appears like a red solid roof: from the outside the original Baroque composition remains intact. The planners found this a radical idea and asked to see a mock-up. Persuading them was a great victory.
Now we are building a new auditorium for Wellington College in the English countryside. We aimed to build a bridge between the college and the landscape behind. Wellington has a historical campus with listed Victorian buildings. We chose a round structure, constantly receding into its landscape, which therefore is not imposing. Moreover, if you think of round arenas, it is about the community, about connecting audiences. The walls are made of charred wood, an eco-friendly material based on a completely natural process. It also has the aesthetic advantage of giving the impression that the building arises out of the surrounding woods. Attached to the auditorium we placed a space filled with natural light that will serve as a “cultural living room”.
Your practice is currently working on a variety of projects, it also has a management side, how do you keep on top of everything?
I have a managing director and a senior architect who understands how to supervise project architects. This allows me to concentrate on the design and on how we think about architecture. I have written a book and I am giving lectures in order to convey this thinking.