Brick is such a beautiful material that sometimes it falls victim to its own success. Probably half of the restaurants in Poland have at least one brick wall. Sometimes these are brick-like products, but I have encountered original demolition brick, re-laid as cladding… in buildings made of large panels. No wonder that many of our clients reject brick as a material they perceive as “ludic,” meant for customers with somewhat tacky taste. However, pretending that a wall was made of brick is different from using original brick vaults. Whenever we reach for this wonderful material in the studio, we are full of humility. It’s so easy to slip into banality.
Ceramics is still the most popular building material next to wood. Clay is found in most places where people have settled. Originally, charcoal was used for firing, and after the industrial revolution, coal. Clay deposits differ in chemical composition. Bricks used to have colors characteristic of a particular area. Additionally, in the traditional firing process, some material was closer, some farther from the fire. As a result, traditionally produced ceramics had an infinite range of shades: from violet hues verging on black to almost white yellows. In this entire spectrum, you could feel the power of the fire that fired the clay.
Buildings made of ceramics never age or rather become more beautiful, more interesting in color and texture as they age. The introduction of new production technologies, the pursuit of poorly understood product perfection, and the addition of artificial dyes, which began to dominate over the natural color of the clay, killed what was most beautiful in ceramics – the uniqueness of each individual element that makes up a unique whole.
Currently, most manufacturers have “old-style” ceramics in their collection. Despite the increasingly better quality of these products, the effect is not entirely satisfactory. Imperfection is precisely controlled, which is a contradiction in itself. It is difficult for technologists to accept that the essence of naturalness is chance, error, and even failure – technological rejects unwanted in the industry.
Whatever we say about the condition of brick as a finishing material, its aesthetic expression, and the fashions prevailing in this respect, in common consciousness, buildings with ceramic walls are considered the healthiest. This is true: the firing itself removes technological water from the material, so drying buildings to a level of operational humidity is the fastest among all types of walls. This reduces the possibilities for the development of fungi and mold in the initial and later stages of building operation. A dry wall means better thermal insulation, and new technologies of drilling and foaming ceramics guarantee very good heat transfer coefficients. The wall is massive, homogeneous, absorbs and releases moisture and heat well, which allows for limiting the use of energy for heating and air conditioning interiors.
The building that has become a symbol of the fight to reduce energy consumption for building operation without losing interior comfort is the office building named “2226” – the headquarters of the Austrian firm Baumschager Eberle Architekten. Built in Lustenau’s Millennium Park, it ostentatiously sets itself apart from its surroundings with a white gravel carpet covering the rectangular plot. The simple six-story structure, covered in light plaster, would be perfectly symmetrical and axial if not for slight twists above the second and fourth floors. What’s phenomenal about 2226 is its heating and ventilation system, or rather their absence. The building is a true ceramic “box” with 76-centimeter-thick, plastered walls made of two layers of ceramic blocks, the outer layer being more heavily perforated to act as an insulator, and the inner layer along with concrete ceilings serving as an accumulator of energy and moisture. Heat is obtained from the devices operating in the building, computers, lighting, and users, and air exchange and cooling occur by tilting windows at appropriate times of the day or night, and on a specific façade, depending on whether the system requires acquiring or expelling excess energy. Measurements show that throughout the year, it is possible to maintain a temperature between 22 and 26 °C (hence the building’s name “2226”) and very good air quality. The designers excellently utilized the characteristics of the sub-Alpine region: clean air, a relatively large number of sunny days per year, and cool nights even in summer. This building can boldly be called intelligent, as control here is not limited to choosing lighting scenarios or operating blinds by clapping hands. The software itself makes decisions about the behavior of the entire system, so that the temperature and concentration of carbon dioxide are maintained at the appropriate level. There may be some doubts about using lighting for heating when there are no users inside. This seems to stem more from the need to maintain the purity of the idea than from real economic and energy calculations. Remember, architecture is largely responsible for various types of environmental pollution, including “light pollution”. Nevertheless, unconventional thinking and excellent collaboration between architects and engineers have produced a surprising and inspiring effect, proving that tradition and progress can be wonderfully combined.
Economic and ecological problems in contemporary construction concern the use of many materials, including ceramics. It has long been said that using local raw materials reduces the carbon footprint. Ceramics have always been cheaper than stone because they were made from materials most often obtained nearby, or even directly on the construction site, limiting transport costs. Also, their processing was relatively simple. Currently, the extraction of raw materials and their processing is only a small percentage of the product’s price on the construction site. The lion’s share is logistics costs. And transport also means the emission of greenhouse gases. A return to small local coal-fired brickworks is probably impossible for ecological reasons and due to high labor costs, but concentrating production in gigantic complexes and moving materials across countries and continents causes no less damage to the environment. The ideal would be decentralization of production by building small environmentally neutral plants. Perhaps someone will invent a “brick truck” that will come to the construction site and produce ceramics directly from the clay in excavations? That would indeed be architecture “growing out of the ground”…
Ceramic masonry elements can be used to build the simplest architectural forms. You can build ceramic “boxes”, like 2226, or treat this material like any other cladding. With good architectural proportions, the “painterliness” of ceramics alone makes the object very attractive. However, what is most fascinating in ceramics is the variety of possibilities for shaping the form. Sagrada Familia was built, after all, from brick as a construction material.
As it sometimes happens in architecture, when almost everything is possible, it is often not known what to do. As a result, some designers treat ceramics only as a kind of skin of the object, while its proper structure is essentially modernist. Others, trying to work according to the nature of the material, imitate traditional solutions and fall, more or less consciously, into historicism. This dilemma regarding the use of brick in contemporary architecture is best illustrated by the words of one of its founding fathers, Louis Kahn: “If you think about using brick on a construction site and ask the brick: ‘What would you like to become, brick?’, the brick replies: ‘I would like to become an arch’. You respond: ‘Brick, arches are very expensive. We will reduce costs by replacing you with a concrete lintel. What do you think about that?’ The brick repeats: ‘I would like to become an arch’. This dialogue is meant to show that there is no other way of building than respect for the materials we use. (…) There are no shortcuts, the truth lies in respect for individual bricks and giving them due reverence”.
Rafael Moneo paid due reverence to each individual brick in his Museum of Roman Art in Mérida. It’s hard to find an example of architecture that treats the material so sincerely, so classically, and yet so thoroughly contemporary. The logic of brickwork and its natural beauty here do not need support from any other detail.
In the unique Capilla San Bernardo by Nicolás Campodonico, located in the Argentine Pampas in La Playosa, the purity seen in Moneo’s work is not quite met. The vault and entrance arch follow the line of forces logically and beautifully, but the bricks on the balcony seem to be holding up the ceiling by a thread. It’s a pity that this detail could not be resolved without the aid of reinforced concrete. In the building made of century-old demolition brick, devoid of any media, the sun daily creates a mystery of forming a cross from the shadow cast by two wooden beams not touching each other. The environment, the material of the building, and the processes occurring in it are alive and changeable.
David Chipperfield solves the problem posed by Louis Kahn differently in the Berlin gallery “Am Kupfergraben 10,” where he uses a ceramic wall, but accepts steel or reinforced concrete lintels and clearly exposes them. This approach is reminiscent of Alexander the Great’s method of solving the knot. However, Chipperfield’s honesty in the use of materials cannot be denied. The layer of plaster is so thin that it is visible from what the walls were built. It works like a glaze in oil painting, which tones but does not completely cover the texture and color of the lower layers.
The Shakespeare Theatre in Gdańsk by Renato Rizzi is a building where bricks are used traditionally and in accordance with their nature, yet in a very contemporary way. Entirely black, located at the junction of the Old Town and a 1960s housing estate, near a busy traffic node, it seems to be a structure not of this world. Immersing in the labyrinth of courtyards, stairs, and terraces, and finally entering the interior, I had the feeling of crossing successive circles of initiation. Outside, the building is almost completely homogeneous in terms of material. Black clinker brick was used consistently for both the construction of layered walls and the horizontal surfaces of courtyards, ramps, stairs, and terraces. The lintels and window sills are also made of brick. Numerous wall offsets have crowning bands made of bricks laid vertically. No sheet metal work disturbs the purity of the form. Horizontal surfaces are mostly laid in vertical bonding “in a sheaf.” Despite the relatively good craftsmanship of the contractor, it was not possible to avoid the error of the appearance of white efflorescence, which is particularly visible in the case of black material. There may be many causes of this phenomenon: poor chemical composition of the mortar, moisture in the ceramic during masonry work, leaky joints, or poor wall ventilation. A well-made clinker wall will last for hundreds of years almost without repair. Of course, if mistakes in the craft are avoided. Their repair, although possible, is unfortunately very labor-intensive and expensive.
Ending the considerations on the words of Louis Kahn, it is necessary to point out another possible path – the coexistence of brick and concrete within one architectural structure. This was brilliantly achieved by the BBGK studio in their Katyn Museum. Colored concrete with visible formwork and imprints of artifacts has been skillfully combined with the original walls of the Warsaw Citadel, creating a completely new quality. Placing part of the exhibits in ceramic cubes, which still seem to maintain the firing temperature, makes each of the mementos unique, unrepeatable, and noteworthy. As you can see, successful marriages of brick with concrete and other technologies can be made.
From the moment of its creation to being built into a wall, a brick is touched by many hands. Not without reason, medieval builders left their handprints on it. The crisis in traditional masonry today partly stems from labor costs. Gaudi was fortunate to live in Spain during an economic collapse and had access to a multitude of skilled, inexpensive craftsmen. In our times, it’s not surprising that many excellent structures using traditional masonry can be found in developing countries where labor costs are relatively low. Examples include the works of architects Tran Thi Ngu Ngon and Nguyen Hai Long from Vietnam. Their Terra Cotta Studio, designed in the Thu Bon River delta for one of Vietnam’s most distinguished ceramic artists, Le Duc Ha, addresses architectural problems different from those in Europe. For this geographic latitude, not thermal protection but shading, ventilation, and flood prevention pose the greatest challenges for architects. The brick cube (7x7x7m) has on each facade 36 latticed squares in several perforation patterns. The building, especially at night, looks like a precious gem. Inside, along the walls, wooden scaffolding is set up, where the artist’s works are stored. In the center stands a round, stone work table. During annual river floods, the ground floor is inundated, while sculptures rest safely on higher levels of the scaffolding. Terra Cotta Studio is an example of a building where brick is not just a decorative cladding, but a beautiful structure itself.
Sometimes, it may seem that meticulous bricklaying is a kind of architectural reserve, possible only in very poor or very rich countries as a kind of extravagance. When it seemed that, for economic reasons, there would eventually be a retreat from bricklaying with small-sized ceramic elements on a massive scale, that skeletal structures, prefabricates, and sliding formworks would dominate construction, modern technology, specifically robotics, came to brick’s aid. Machines for laying paving stones, including clinker, are now commonly used. The most intricate patterns are “tailored” automatically in layers on pallets, and then each layer is built by a laying machine at the right place on the construction site. For robots used in masonry work, which are moving from the experimental phase to widespread application, the problem is more complex, as the third dimension requires very precise ways of orienting each individual element in space. Nevertheless, the development of automation and computer science has already dealt with this. The latest robots analyze the CAD model of the building, select and cut the material, cover it with mortar, and build it extremely precisely in the right place in the wall, doing so at a rate several times faster than a trio of bricklayers.
A material that has dominated the landscape of many regions for centuries must have strong cultural connotations. Not for nothing do we use the concept of building tradition. In the Netherlands and Flanders, ceramic facades and roofs are the standard. Nobody thinks of building differently. Plaster is very rare there, and the so-called wet light method popular in Poland is never used. Rational Dutch and Flemish people know how to observe and count. They use durable materials to limit future repairs. It’s no wonder there are many examples of interesting ceramic applications, even in high-rise buildings. The Westkaai Towers 5&6 apartment buildings by Tony Fretton Architects, built as part of the revitalization of the port in Antwerp, are not just an unreflective reference to local traditions. The way of articulating the facade as a whole, the arrangement of individual small elements that make up its structure, their “work with light,” are evidence that after thousands of years in the field of brick themes, not everything has yet been invented.
Tradition can and should be a source of inspiration for new searches.
But what happens when such a tradition does not exist?
In Japan, where buildings have primarily been made of wood for centuries, the logic of a brick wall hasn’t developed. However, the ceramic theme seems attractive to the Japanese through associations with Western civilization. The industry reacted very quickly, creating metal claddings that mimic brick walls. Openings, often arched, are cut without considering the placement of individual elements in the brick pattern. To a European, this seems a bit strange.
I live and work in Upper Silesia, often passing by Silesian brick family homes and factory halls, and I somewhat regret that this building tradition has faded. Unfortunately, architecture, like almost every cultural phenomenon, is becoming increasingly cosmopolitan. However, there are exceptions that confirm the rule – buildings that fit well into their context. In Silesia, one such building is the award-winning headquarters of the K. Kieślowski Faculty of Radio and Television, designed by BAAS from Barcelona, Grupa 5 Architekci from Warsaw, and Małeccy Biuro Projektowe from Katowice. Located on narrow Pawła Street, in the old buildings typical of Silesian cities, it skillfully absorbs a tiny historic family home into its structure, creating a kind of architectural brooch. This was possible because the main structure was reduced to a synthetic shape repeating the tectonics and material of the façade. To form it, ceramic shapes set on a metal grid and fired in a traditional coal furnace were used. The material retains all the best features of traditional firing, with slight color variations and clinkers, creating an extremely apt filling of the old fabric. The back of the building, along with the unplastered annexes of neighboring tenements, building up layered plans, is the quintessence of Silesian character.
Unfortunately, individual examples will not change the condition of architecture. The path marked by the Nikiszowiec and Giszowiec estates has already ended. It’s impossible to restore a once-extinguished tradition, just as it’s impossible to restore a once-lost spatial order. Does this mean a lack of future for building ceramics in Silesia? No, because it will not go out of use anywhere in the world. Architecture today faces many revaluations. It’s necessary to reduce costs understood holistically as construction and operation of buildings. Costs are not only economic but also environmental and social. Design must be done in a way that allows buildings to be given new life after the function for which they were created has expired. We must use deposits that will not be exhausted. No material known to me is better suited for this than ceramics. It’s just a matter of rediscovering the possibilities dormant in it and combining them with modern technologies. Bricks are like notes. It depends on the architect what music they will create.