Norman Foster Is Still Looking Upward

Norman Foster. Credit: Elliott Verdier for The New York Times
Norman Foster. Credit: Elliott Verdier for The New York Times
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Norman Foster Is Still Looking Upward

Norman Foster. Credit: Elliott Verdier for The New York Times
Norman Foster. Credit: Elliott Verdier for The New York Times

London - Farah Nayeri

Take the escalators to the top of the Pompidou Center in Paris and you’ll reach the museum’s largest exhibition hall, Gallery 1 — a vast space which, over the years, has hosted surveys of art-historical heavyweights like Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, and Salvador Dalí. Now, for the first time, Gallery 1 is showcasing the work of an architect: Norman Foster.

Foster, 87, was approached by the museum in 2018 to exhibit his work in the ground-level gallery often used for architecture shows, but he wanted to display many more objects than would fit. So, he was granted a space that’s nearly three times bigger, said the exhibition’s curator, Frédéric Migayrou. To help cover the extra costs, Foster secured sponsorship from companies whose buildings he had designed, Migayrou added.

As an architect, Foster has harnessed technology to make buildings that are modern yet aim for ecological soundness. He has reinvented structures such as office towers and airports by moving bulky mechanical elements out of the way — to the sides, below ground — and letting light in.

Notable landmarks include the soaring Millau Viaduct in southern France, the glass-roofed Great Court of the British Museum, the circular Apple headquarters in Cupertino, Calif., and the Reichstag building in Berlin — a spectacular glass cupola fitted over what was a bombed-out edifice. In the year of its inauguration, 1999, Foster received the Pritzker Architecture Prize and became a member of the House of Lords, the upper house of Britain’s Parliament.

Foster recently spoke in a video interview from the Pompidou Center, where he was installing his show. (The exhibition opened Wednesday and runs through Aug. 7.) The conversation has been edited and condensed.

How does it feel to have a retrospective at the Centre Pompidou?

There’s inevitably an element of nostalgia, because on the night of the official opening, back in the 1970s, I was outside the Centre Pompidou when the French President opened the building.

There’s only one Pompidou. Breaking down the boundaries between the arts of design, architecture, painting, and sculpture, is right at the heart of the cultural message of this building, which is free and open.

You’ve been quoted as saying that architecture is too often treated as fine art, “delicately wrapped in mumbo jumbo,” when in fact it incorporates disciplines including science, math, and engineering. Is there a tension between beauty and functionality in architecture?

No, there shouldn’t be. My objectives as an architect are the material and the spiritual, and I can’t separate the two. One is to keep the rain off, keep you dry when it’s wet, keep you cool when it’s hot, look after your material comfort. The other is your spiritual comfort: to incline the building so you have a view, to bring in the sun and a shaft of light to create shadow, to give you a surprise when you enter a space. If the architect is not doing this, then the architect is not acting as an architect. Architecture is as much about the soul and the spirit as it is about the material.

In the exhibition wall texts, you say that a vertical community well served by public transport can be a model of sustainability. How can urban high-rises be the future in an age of human-induced climate change?

I think they’re more relevant than ever. Just look at the energy consumed by cities that are compact, walkable, and well-served by public transport, compared with cities that sprawl and have long commutes. A high-rise city like Manhattan is highly sustainable from the standpoint of energy consumption. People live close to where they work: It’s not dependent on a car, it’s not alienated in a suburb. Medium-rise cities like London or Paris are more sustainable than Los Angeles or Houston, which sprawl and are dependent on cars.

Buildings account for 40 percent of world energy consumption. Doesn’t that carbon footprint mean that your profession is facing obsolescence?

Look at societies like ours which consume the most energy. Statistically, we live longer, infant mortality is lower, and life expectancy is greater. We have more personal freedom. Notwithstanding exceptions, we have less violence and fewer wars. High consumption of energy is good for you, for society, and for medical research.

The imperative is to generate clean energy. The cleanest source of energy, by a huge margin, is nuclear. There’s no reason why, using clean energy, we shouldn’t be converting seawater into jet fuel and decarbonizing the ocean at the same time. That’s our future.

Climate activists would severely disagree with you.

But one must separate facts from hysteria and emotion.

You say we need to get away from transportation that damages the climate. Yet why are you so engaged in building airports?

We all deplore the carbon emissions generated by air travel. We also deplore the massive amount of carbon emissions every time we eat a hamburger, which makes air travel look, by comparison, almost insignificant.

Yes, air travel generates carbon. But what about the infrastructure of transport? Airports are connected by cars, by subway systems, by railways. The whole world is mobile. We’re not going to stop moving overnight. It’s a connected world. It’s not just about moving people: It’s also about moving freight, responding to world emergencies, and providing aid.

If we can make that infrastructure more sustainable — consuming less energy and recycling more material — then we have a responsibility to do it as architects. We can’t be ostriches burying our heads in the sand.

You’re not frightened by the future?

No. I’m frightened by anything which would threaten my family, myself, or the community around me. There’s always some boogeyman on the horizon. At any point in time, individuals and families, and communities have been threatened by their neighbors, by the weather, by drought. We like to think that these things are new to us — and, of course, climate change is new. But climate change takes a back seat when you have a pandemic, and if there’s a meteorite suddenly hurling toward you.

Zaha Hadid was the first woman to win the Pritzker Prize, in 2004. Since then, few women have been recognized in that way. Is architecture still a male-dominated profession?

My daughter went to Harvard University to study art history and converted to architecture in the first year. She now works for an architect in London and is going to Yale University to study architecture. More and more, schools of architecture are dominated by women, which is fantastic. It’s a profession that is in transition, and some of those changes are long overdue. I see the kind of bias that you’re talking about, and I deplore it.

Which of your buildings do you think people will look back on in 50 years and consider important?

The buildings that I would like to think would endure would be those buildings that have become symbols of democracy, of a way of life, of a nation. I would hope that the Reichstag would continue to architecturally embody those virtues. It’s also a manifesto of clean energy, zero carbon, and of Berlin’s transition from its wartime role to its peacetime role. As architecture, it’s very much about values.

Your colleague Renzo Piano once said: “Buildings stay forever, like forests, like rivers.” Do you agree?

Buildings last as long as they’re useful. The history of architecture, like cities, is a history of renewal. Cities are our greatest invention: an agglomeration, a coming together of individual buildings. The urban glue that binds them together determines the quality of our lives more than any individual building. I’d like to think that buildings last forever, but realistically, the only constant is change.

 

The New York Times



10 Native Spring Ephemerals that Bring Early Color to the Garden

This July 12, 2005, image provided by Bugwood.org shows dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria). (Joseph OBrien/USDA Forest Service/Bugwood.org via AP)
This July 12, 2005, image provided by Bugwood.org shows dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria). (Joseph OBrien/USDA Forest Service/Bugwood.org via AP)
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10 Native Spring Ephemerals that Bring Early Color to the Garden

This July 12, 2005, image provided by Bugwood.org shows dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria). (Joseph OBrien/USDA Forest Service/Bugwood.org via AP)
This July 12, 2005, image provided by Bugwood.org shows dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria). (Joseph OBrien/USDA Forest Service/Bugwood.org via AP)

Spring brings the return of color to the garden as bulbs bloom, perennials re-emerge, and new annuals settle in. But there’s a less common category of plants that’s also worth knowing: native spring ephemerals.

Compared to most garden plants, ephemerals are fleeting, but their role in bridging the gap between winter and spring is invaluable.

Ephemerals come to life in very early spring to take advantage of the season’s increased soil moisture, early spring rains and the availability of sunlight under leafless trees.

They poke up, grow quickly, put on a colorful show and then go dormant all within 6 to 8 weeks, typically from when the last snow melts to when the trees leaf out. And unlike plants that leave fading foliage behind, ephemerals retreat without a trace — or nearly so — allowing you to take advantage of the precious real estate left behind for later-season, shade-loving perennials, The AP news reported.

Early food for insects, and a sight for sore eyes Native ephemerals' role in nature is to feed starving insects that emerge from dormancy at a time when other food is scarce. But they also provide flowery accents for garden-starved humans at a time when landscape color is scarce.

Plant potted ephemerals or their corms or rhizomes in either spring or early fall. If sowing seeds, do so in late summer or early fall to allow time for growth and root establishment before winter. Either way, select a spot under deciduous trees that receives temporary spring sunlight and has well-draining, acidic soil (exceptions are noted below).

A generous helping of compost, mixed into the soil, will provide nutrients, and a 2-inch layer of mulch will insulate and protect roots while dormant.

Fertilizer isn’t absolutely necessary, but a dose provided when buds begin to form in spring will boost flower size.

In fall, dig up and divide overgrown ephemerals, if necessary, and give the area a good watering to help prepare them for winter. Because the plants will likely disappear underground by mid-summer, marking their spots with popsicle sticks in spring will make finding them easier.

Here are 10 native spring ephemerals to consider: Azure bluet (Houstonia caerulea) — Small, pale-blue flower with yellow center and rosette leaves. Sow seeds just below the soil surface. Grow in rock gardens or in the lawn, but don’t mow until plants have set seed for the following year. Grows 8 inches tall.

Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) — One large, broad leaf and one orange-centered white flower per plant, each on its own stem. Spreads quickly to form a ground cover. Grows 12-14 inches tall.

Calypso orchid, fairy slipper (Calypso bulbosa) — A single, dainty, purple-magenta-yellow-white blossom atop a slender stem with a single leaf. Thrives best in shade or part shade and can handle alkaline soil. Grows 2-8 inches tall.

Dutchman’s breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) — Deep-cut, feathery foliage, slender stems and drooping, fragrant white flowers. Note to parents and pet owners: All of its parts are toxic, but only if consumed in large quantities; causes minor skin irritation when touched. Beneficial to bumblebees. Grows 10 inches tall.

Fringed bleeding hearts (Dicentra eximia) — Not to be confused with the Asian bleeding heart (Lamprocapnos spectabilis), this US native has light-green, fernlike foliage and clusters of drooping, heart-shaped pink flowers on mounding plants. Thrives in moist, rocky soil and prefers part-shade to shade. Attracts birds. Grows 1-2 feet tall.

Great white trillium (Trillium grandiflorum) — A triplet of oval leaves surrounds a solitary large white flower that turns pink as it matures. Berries and roots have a low toxicity, but only if eaten. Thrives in sun to shade. Grows 1-3 feet tall.

Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) — Pink, but opens to reveal blue flowers on arching, branched stems. Prefers part shade or shade, and moist, rocky soil. A colonizing, rapid spreader. Grows 1-3 feet tall.

Rue anemone (Thalictrum thalictroides) — Pink or white flowers on maroon stems with whorled leaves. Prefers partly shady conditions. Note to parents and pet owners: All parts of this plant are toxic, but only if eaten in large quantities; contact with sap will cause irritation. Grows 9 inches tall.

Trout lily (Erythronium americanum) — Blotchy leaves and red-tinged, nodding yellow flowers with curled-back petals. Will perform best in full sun but can handle part shade. Does not transplant well, so leave it in place once planted. Grows 8 inches tall.

Twinleaf (Jeffersonia diphylla) — Each leaf is divided into two lung-shaped leaflets, with white, star-shaped flowers atop leafless flower stalks. Petals are delicate and can be blown off by wind. Grows 1-3 feet tall.