A conversation with David Chipperfield

David Chipperfield hardly needs an introduction, especially in Germany. With his German team, he has run prominent projects like the Neues Museum and the James Simon Gallery on the Museum Island in Berlin. The British architect also renovated the New National Gallery by Mies van der Rohe, which reopene in 2021. He keeps offices in London, Milan and Shanghai, among other places, and is involved in projects around the world. FSB met with the 66-year-old architect in his Berlin office and got to know him as an earnest, highly focused yet friendly and mischievous conversationalist.

Mr Chipperfield, with the opening of the James Simon Gallery last year, your work on the reconstruction of the Museum Island has come to an end after about 25 years. Alexander Schwarz, one of your Berlin partners, once said that the time spent working on the Island was like a doing a second university degree for him.

Yes, that’s right. The Neues Museum was especially an education. Because of the technical difficulties and the design challenges, but mainly because of political considerations: how do you do a project that everyone in Berlin has an opinion about? It was very controversial and confrontational, even. Too confrontational for my taste. So our office developed a collaborative working method to bring all of the stakeholders together. The urban development planners, the Monument Authority, the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, the curators – everyone needed to believe in the project and help us make the right decisions. Without this way of working, we would not have managed that project, which is why it is so hugely important for the mindset of our firm. I think it will become even more important for architects to work collaboratively. We should not operate like design masterminds.

You’re working on a museum project now, renovating the New National Gallery, which is anticipated to reopen next year. You called your concept the ‘invisible architect’.

I don’t think we had a choice. Our job was not to transform Mies’ work into a David Chipperfield masterpiece. The job was to get Mies back to good condition. Some of the things we did were simple technical renovations; others needed cultural interpretation or changes to design for functional purposes. But ultimately, the aim is that no one should notice the facelift.

What was your most difficult task in this project?

The facades of the glass hall, because they were designed incorrectly from the start. We could have said, OK, fine, let’s design them this way so they work. But with Mies the design is in the detail. Changing the facades would have meant changing the whole building. So we had to weigh up the cultural and technical aspects. Ultimately it’s a museum and you can’t spend that amount of money on it and then not have it work on opening day. That was really a challenge.

What made you choose to study architecture as a young man?

I went to boarding school and was not an especially good pupil. I spent half the time playing rugby and the other half in the art room, where I felt most at peace. My art teacher was special; he encouraged and supported me. He was interested in architecture, so he pointed me in this direction.

You also design furniture and useful objects. To what extent are these design projects relevant to the work of the firm?

Good question. I think these projects aren’t that relevant to the work of the firm. But when I founded my firm in the eighties, there was a recession. There was hardly anything to do. In that first decade I only had small projects, like shop fittings, so really I have always worked on interiors. But I can answer this question in a different way as well: I think many architects treat buildings like objects. Whereas we approach them as a setting, like a scene or a theatre stage. Buildings should create a good place for people.

And when you look at architect as a setting, then you also become interested in the objects in that setting. But we only design something when there is an idea, something that expresses a certain lifestyle. When I designed the tableware for Alessi 15 years ago, I wanted a set of simple dishes for my home. I don't like all of the different plates and dishes you find in a typical service.

And finally: what is the most important question you think I should ask you?

Right, the most important question is: what role should architecture take in a world that is facing such immense social and ecological challenges? I don't know the answer.

It’s a big conflict: on the one hand, buildings are responsible for a significant amount of carbon dioxide emissions...

For 50 per cent!

...and on the other hand, many cities are facing a housing crisis. We have to build. Has architecture become an unsolvable challenge?

How we build naturally has implications. But whether we as architects are part of the problem, we can’t do much about that. We’re in an odd, weak position. After all, by the time we receive an order, the greatest sustainability problems have already been caused. Why is the building being constructed at all? Why was the old one torn down? Does the building really need to be so big? Should it not be built somewhere else? These types of planning issues were decided long ago. We architects should not settle for being at the end of the food chain; we should get involved earlier in the process.

Is there an awareness of this among your colleagues?

Yes. But in the past 30, 40 years, the profession has become more and more removed from the political planning processes. After the war it was different; architects were involved in developing a city. We should show society that we have something to contribute. But planning is being defined more and more by investors. Our role there is to use our skills and expertise to enhance the commercial results of the projects. We should be using our skills and expertise to solve social problems.