Architecture in all ages has been cross-fertilised by other civilisations. There is nothing new about internationalisation. The Renaissance looked to ancient Greece or vanished Rome for its precedents, and even before that, a building like Lund Cathedral could derive its ornamentation, layout and architecture from the south of Europe. Increased travel to increasingly remote places has multiplied the interfaces. In this exhibition we show some examples of Swedish buildings and their prototypes.
Imports
Borrowed plumage
Porcelain and other commodities were imported from China to Sweden through the East India trade. The sea voyage there and back again in the 18th century took at least 18 months. Under the auspices of the Swedish East India Company, founded in 1732, hundreds of Swedes travelled to Canton every year. The European craze for everything Chinese was at its height in the mid-18th century. Chinoiserie meant the superficial imitation of Chinese architecture and decorative arts.
During the Rococo period, pavilions and summerhouses were built in Chinese style, one of the most brilliant European examples being the Chinese Pavilion at Drottningholm. The original Chinese Pavilion was given by King Adolf Fredrik to his consort, Ulrika Eleonora, in 1753, on her 34th birthday, and was a summerhouse for the royals to relax in – a private world of amusement and delight.
Chinoiserie architecture, being a typical garden phenomena to begin with, was for the most part of a transitory nature and not made of durable materials. Surviving examples are few and far between. After ten years the rot had set in at the Chinese Pavilion and work began on building a replacement, designed by Carl Fredrik Adelcrantz.
It was modelled partly on a book by Gothenburg-born William Chambers: Traité des édifices, meubles, habits, machines et ustensiles des chinois, gravés sur les originaux dessinés à la Chinae.
Details from the south
The eclecticism of the 19th century turned to both historic buildings and faraway places for its ideas and inspiration, one newly discovered and popular wellspring being the Islamic architecture of North Africa and Spain. That style of building acquired some currency in 19th century Europe, with horseshoe arches, geometric stellar patterns and dense but buoyant surface ornamentation. The Alhambra in Granada was a favourite port of call among artists and architects.
Ludvig Peterson was one of the leading architects of the Stockholm which emerged in about 1900. As a young graduate went to Spain in the 1880:s. January 1882 found him in Seville, where he was profoundly taken with Morisco architecture.
Konstnärshuset in Smålandsgatan, Stockholm, is Ludvig Peterson’s creation. Completed in 1897, after more than 15 years’ discussions of a common home for all Swedish artists, it is a unique building, the only one of its kind in Sweden. The ogival arches are reminiscent of Late Gothic Venetian palaces.
Moghul India
Ferdinand Boberg (1860-1946) is Sweden’s best-known architect from the period round about 1900. From modest beginnings he rises to the apex of society, moves in royal circles and marries into the cultural élite. He and his wife Anna went on many journeys to Venice, to Andalusia and to North Africa with its abundant diversity of art and design.
Boberg was among the first to break with eclecticism and search for an architecture that was genuine and sincere in every aspect – structure, rooms and materials. Clearly, he was open to impressions from every quarter.
In the Central Post Office building in Vasagatan, Stockholm, completed in 1904, expanses of masonry in red Övedskloster sandstone and red Höganäs brick are counterbalanced by elegant finials. The towers of this building are square-based with octagonal tops. The dome has been described as Indo-Persian, with elaborate gable motifs surmounting the central section.
Boberg’s taste for exotic themes incurred criticism from younger colleagues for orientalism and lack of “Swedishness”. He himself was to visit India much later, after he had given up the architect’s profession in order to concentrate on pictures.
Sequences of buildings and courtyards
China was all the rage in the western world at the beginning of the 20th century. Collecting Chinese art was a popular pursuit in both Europe and the USA, and a great deal of research was being published on the subject of Chinese civilisation. With this new deepening of knowledge on the subject, wonderment was superseded by understanding.
Architect Cyrillus Johansson (1884-1959) never actually visited China, though he cherished a lifelong dream of doing so and there is no mistaking the influence on his work of traditional Chinese architecture.
One of his foremost works, the idiosyncratic Värmland Museum (1926-1929), is more like a Chinese temple than a classical museum building. Putative precursors of the Värmland Museum have included the entrance tower to the Ming tombs – Shi San Ling – outside Peking, a temple building frequently depicted in books about China in the early years of the 20th century.
The original museum entrance building was a pergola, separated from the main building by a pool 100 metres long. These three elements – entrance pergola, pond and main building – formed a symmetrical group on a north-south axis.
Space dissolved
The stylistic and technical impact of Japanese art, architecture and decorative arts on the art of the western world breaks down into a number of episodes.
The traditional Japanese house is intended for everyday living. It is built of wood, paper, straw mats, plaster and clay, reed thatch, boards or brick.
Functionalism made the Japanese house a model of rationality and flexibility In 1935 the Museum of Ethnography opened a Japanese teahouse, “Zui-ke-tei” – the Abode of Promising Light. The building, jointly presented by a Japanese and a Swedish benefactor, proved a major attraction to architects and craftsmen, not only in Sweden but from the neighbouring Nordic countries as well.
Carl Nyrén designed for himself and his family a villa inspired by Danish and Japanese architecture. Completed in 1962, the house nestles behind a high hawthorn hedge in Äppelviken. The Japanese elements are apparent in the floor plan, based on the concept of one big room, in the flexible walls – the bedrooms were made small and the walls are removed when the occasion demands – and also in the elevated wooden deck which constitutes an intermediary between indoors and out. House and garden are strongly interlinked.