Papers by Michelle Provoost
The urban book series, 2017
Even though it has been 20 years since the apartheid was officially lifted, Cape Town is still th... more Even though it has been 20 years since the apartheid was officially lifted, Cape Town is still the symbolic capital city of segregation.
Even though it has been 20 years since the apartheid was officially lifted, Cape Town is still th... more Even though it has been 20 years since the apartheid was officially lifted, Cape Town is still the symbolic capital city of segregation.
Lars Lerup is the William Ward Watkin Professor, and former dean, at the Rice University School o... more Lars Lerup is the William Ward Watkin Professor, and former dean, at the Rice University School of Architecture. Born in Sweden, Professor Lerup holds degrees in engineering, architecture, and urban design. He is a Doctor of Technology, honoris causa, at Lunds Tekniska Hogskola, Sweden. In 2003, Lerup was awarded a distinguished professorship by the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture and is a member of the Swiss Foundation for the International Institute of Architecture in Vico Morcote. Lerup has lectured and exhibited around the world and has written several books and some fifty essays that have been published internationally. His design work includes projects and competitions for new towns, housing, and furniture. His most recent exhibition was held at the Menil Foundation in Houston. Michelle Provoost is an architectural historian, curator and consultant on urban planning and architecture affairs. She presently directs the INTI International New Town Institute. Aft...
010 Publishers eBooks, 1995
The Dutch Hugh Maaskant (1907–1977) is best known as the architect who made the biggest mark on t... more The Dutch Hugh Maaskant (1907–1977) is best known as the architect who made the biggest mark on the post-war reconstruction of Rotterdam with such buildings as the Groothandelsgebouw, the Hilton Hotel and the Lijnbaan flats. Maaskant produced the lion’s share of his work in the 1950s and ’60s, the very period architectural critics generally regard as a time of crisis, when architects worldwide fell prey to confusion and lack of direction. The overriding factor in this criticism was the close link that had grown up since the war between architects originating with the modern movement and the economic-political leaders of that time. The upshot, according to the critics, was that the utopian quality that had originally informed the modern movement had ceded to an empty formalism. This critical stance on post-war modernism was also directed in part at Maaskant. The year 1971 marked the point in his career when the long-smouldering dissatisfaction with the abstract, large-scale, anonymous and ‘inhuman’ aspects of architecture erupted. This was part of a broader cultural about-turn in the Netherlands in which ’60s policy, which was largely directed at material growth, came under critical review. The openness and spatiality of modern architecture that for a decade had served as metaphors for the ‘open society’ fell from favour and came to be perceived as an emptiness that needed programming if existential needs for visual stimuli, security and the ‘human’ scale were to be met. The great scale that had invaded every terrain of social reality and had been accommodated by the architecture of practices like that of Maaskant, was no longer read as an optimistic sign of growth and advancement. Indeed, his buildings were regarded as the degrading products of an antisocial architect. Add to that the widespread discontent with the quality of mass- produced housing – built by Maaskant among others in tens of thousands of units at a time – and it was inevitable that in the 1970s Maaskant would be swiftly toppled from his illustrious position at the crest of Dutch architecture. This book shows how his buildings were an almost perfect reflection of Dutch society in the 1950s and ’60s, which progressed steadily from the frugal reconstruction period to an affluent consumer society. When the tide of Dutch society began to turn at the close of the ’60s, Maaskant found himself carried along with it as an epigone of a bygone era. This was driven home in around 1970 when the baby-boomers, architecturally enlightened by Aldo van Eyck and others of Team X, made their entrance into the municipal departments and government institutions. From there they contributed to a colossal shift in policy away from the architecture of the reconstruction period and the prosperous ’60s. ‘Small-scale’ became the new watchword after the spaciousness and large scale of the previous decade. Needless to say, Maaskant was more inclined towards the latter. With the critique of modernism gaining ground since the 1970s, Maaskant’s canon was one-sidely looked upon as functional, rational and technocratic, clouding the view of other themes in his work. Since then, however, the dogmas of the ’70s have themselves become outmoded, ushering in a fresh appreciation of Maaskant’s buildings as examples of a fascinating metropolitan architecture. This has to do with the renewal of interest in typical ’60s design themes now back in play such as mass, large scale, infrastructure and designing for industry. Meanwhile faith in architecture’s utopian claims, its capacity to improve the world, has dwindled dramatically if not disappeared altogether. An ‘anti- social’ designer like Maaskant, who had always been aware of architecture’s limitations, could then return to the stage; more than that, his amoral attitude devoid of patronizing undertones was construed as a ‘modern’ stance, meaning in tune with the 1990s. Ideas that had been regarded in the ’70s as cynical were now looked upon as realistic. The optimism conveyed by his buildings, his acceptance of social trends as the architect’s programme and a faith in the future, have made his work popular again. Unquestionably, his image as a no-nonsense businessman also has its appeal; to say nothing of the flip side of that image, Maaskant as the society architect who with un-Dutch audacity succeeded in making grand gestures. Neither image is entirely true of course but they did make him a cult figure. In recent years architectural critics have been keenly re-examining post-war modernism, particularly the many variants and the wide diversity covered by the term. The heterogeneity of the modernist canon, evident as far back as the early 1930s through regional differentiation and the reintroduction of a whole host of forgotten or displaced design themes, became so extreme in the post-war years that there was no longer any question of a movement with shared formal or stylistic premises. This multi-faceted presence, the disbanding…
University of Pennsylvania Press, Inc. eBooks, 2021
Michelle Provoost is an architectural historian, curator and consultant on urban planning and arc... more Michelle Provoost is an architectural historian, curator and consultant on urban planning and architecture affairs. She presently directs the INTI International New Town Institute. After finishing her studies at Groningen University she taught and lectured there, before establishing the office Crimson Architectural Historians in 1994, in Rotterdam. With Crimson she has engaged in a large number of research and design projects in the fields of urban planning, architecture and art. She is a former curator at the Netherlands Architectural Institute, where she organized two major exhibitions and edited the accompanying publications. She was a staff member and project leader of WiMBY!, an urban regeneration project in Rotterdam-Hoogvliet. She completed her doctoral dissertation on the Dutch architect Hugh Maaskant.
Uitgeverij 010 eBooks, 1992
NAi Publishers eBooks, 1999
NAi Publishers eBooks, 2000
New Towns for the Twenty-First Century
New Towns for the Twenty-First Century
In 1952, a year after Kwame Nkrumah became the first Prime Minister of what was then the British ... more In 1952, a year after Kwame Nkrumah became the first Prime Minister of what was then the British colony of the Gold Coast (now Ghana), the decision was made to build a brandnew harbour as part of the ambitious Volta River Project. For the relocation of Tema, a small fishing village that stood in the way of the new development, the English office of Maxwell Fry, Jane Drew and Denys Lasdun was engaged. Although there was a plan for a whole new city to be built on the site of the demolished village, it was decided not to incorporate the villagers in this new city. Instead, a separate settlement was designed (Tema Manhean) so that the villagers could keep their own identity while still improving their living environment. This decision caused a serious dilemma: because of its authenticity the tribe was condemned to remain an enclave of traditional living, while next door in the new Tema (p. 194) modern progress unfolded in all its attractiveness. Fry and Drew developed a social and parti...
The Dutch Hugh Maaskant (1907–1977) is best known as the architect who made the biggest mark on t... more The Dutch Hugh Maaskant (1907–1977) is best known as the architect who made the biggest mark on the post-war reconstruction of Rotterdam with such buildings as the Groothandelsgebouw, the Hilton Hotel and the Lijnbaan flats. Maaskant produced the lion’s share of his work in the 1950s and ’60s, the very period architectural critics generally regard as a time of crisis, when architects worldwide fell prey to confusion and lack of direction. The overriding factor in this criticism was the close link that had grown up since the war between architects originating with the modern movement and the economic-political leaders of that time. The upshot, according to the critics, was that the utopian quality that had originally informed the modern movement had ceded to an empty formalism. This critical stance on post-war modernism was also directed in part at Maaskant. The year 1971 marked the point in his career when the long-smouldering dissatisfaction with the abstract, large-scale, anonymous and ‘inhuman’ aspects of architecture erupted. This was part of a broader cultural about-turn in the Netherlands in which ’60s policy, which was largely directed at material growth, came under critical review. The openness and spatiality of modern architecture that for a decade had served as metaphors for the ‘open society’ fell from favour and came to be perceived as an emptiness that needed programming if existential needs for visual stimuli, security and the ‘human’ scale were to be met. The great scale that had invaded every terrain of social reality and had been accommodated by the architecture of practices like that of Maaskant, was no longer read as an optimistic sign of growth and advancement. Indeed, his buildings were regarded as the degrading products of an antisocial architect. Add to that the widespread discontent with the quality of mass- produced housing – built by Maaskant among others in tens of thousands of units at a time – and it was inevitable that in the 1970s Maaskant would be swiftly toppled from his illustrious position at the crest of Dutch architecture. This book shows how his buildings were an almost perfect reflection of Dutch society in the 1950s and ’60s, which progressed steadily from the frugal reconstruction period to an affluent consumer society. When the tide of Dutch society began to turn at the close of the ’60s, Maaskant found himself carried along with it as an epigone of a bygone era. This was driven home in around 1970 when the baby-boomers, architecturally enlightened by Aldo van Eyck and others of Team X, made their entrance into the municipal departments and government institutions. From there they contributed to a colossal shift in policy away from the architecture of the reconstruction period and the prosperous ’60s. ‘Small-scale’ became the new watchword after the spaciousness and large scale of the previous decade. Needless to say, Maaskant was more inclined towards the latter. With the critique of modernism gaining ground since the 1970s, Maaskant’s canon was one-sidely looked upon as functional, rational and technocratic, clouding the view of other themes in his work. Since then, however, the dogmas of the ’70s have themselves become outmoded, ushering in a fresh appreciation of Maaskant’s buildings as examples of a fascinating metropolitan architecture. This has to do with the renewal of interest in typical ’60s design themes now back in play such as mass, large scale, infrastructure and designing for industry. Meanwhile faith in architecture’s utopian claims, its capacity to improve the world, has dwindled dramatically if not disappeared altogether. An ‘anti- social’ designer like Maaskant, who had always been aware of architecture’s limitations, could then return to the stage; more than that, his amoral attitude devoid of patronizing undertones was construed as a ‘modern’ stance, meaning in tune with the 1990s. Ideas that had been regarded in the ’70s as cynical were now looked upon as realistic. The optimism conveyed by his buildings, his acceptance of social trends as the architect’s programme and a faith in the future, have made his work popular again. Unquestionably, his image as a no-nonsense businessman also has its appeal; to say nothing of the flip side of that image, Maaskant as the society architect who with un-Dutch audacity succeeded in making grand gestures. Neither image is entirely true of course but they did make him a cult figure. In recent years architectural critics have been keenly re-examining post-war modernism, particularly the many variants and the wide diversity covered by the term. The heterogeneity of the modernist canon, evident as far back as the early 1930s through regional differentiation and the reintroduction of a whole host of forgotten or displaced design themes, became so extreme in the post-war years that there was no longer any question of a movement with shared formal or stylistic premises. This multi-faceted presence, the disbanding…
Architecture and the Welfare State, 2014
In 1957, Prime Minister Kwame Nkrumah declared Ghana independent. While Ghana was still a British... more In 1957, Prime Minister Kwame Nkrumah declared Ghana independent. While Ghana was still a British colony, the decision was made to build Tema Harbour, as part of the Volta River Project. Along the way, it was decided that an entire new city in this area was needed. An English planning team began this process in the 1950s, but their carefully designed, winding road patterns didn’t provide the fast paced and rational image that Nkrumah was after. In 1960 he hired Greek planner Constantinos Doxiadis to speed and scale things up as well as rationalize the urban plan. Doxiadis’s plan for Tema was based on a mathematical system that was rigidly hierarchical, with roads in eight different classes ranging from footpaths connecting houses (Road I) to highways (Road VIII), and residential areas ranging from a small cluster of houses (Community Class I) to the city as a whole (CC V) and even to the larger scale of the metropolitan region (CC VI). The familiar hierarchical order of the English ...
This dataset brings together information on contemporary African New Towns identified between 201... more This dataset brings together information on contemporary African New Towns identified between 2015-2018 by Rachel Keeton in collaboration with the International New Town Institute. For each of the 148 New Towns identified, data regarding location of the New Town, year of initiation, period of construction, developers and planning organizations involved, the nationality of the initiator, etc., has been identified where possible. The dataset is incomplete, as it was not possible to find all relevant data for every New Town.
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Papers by Michelle Provoost
To Build a City in Africa brings together authors from various academic, political and design backgrounds to explore case studies on new towns in Ghana, Egypt, South Africa, Angola, Morocco and Kenya, among other examples. This publication provides a critical narrative about African urbanization and questions the western world’s role in the radical transformations happening in Africa today.
This critical stance on post-war modernism was also directed in part at Maaskant. The year 1971 marked the point in his career when the long-smouldering dissatisfaction with the abstract, large-scale, anonymous and ‘inhuman’ aspects of architecture erupted. This was part of a broader cultural about-turn in the Netherlands in which ’60s policy, which was largely directed at material growth, came under critical review. The openness and spatiality of modern architecture that for a decade had served as metaphors for the ‘open society’ fell from favour and came to be perceived as an emptiness that needed programming if existential needs for visual stimuli, security and the ‘human’ scale were to be met. The great scale that had invaded every terrain of social reality and had been accommodated by the architecture of practices like that of Maaskant, was no longer read as an optimistic sign of growth and advancement. Indeed, his buildings were regarded as the degrading products of an antisocial architect. Add to that the widespread discontent with the quality of mass- produced housing – built by Maaskant among others in tens of thousands of units at a time – and it was inevitable that in the 1970s Maaskant would be swiftly toppled from his illustrious position at the crest of Dutch architecture.
This book shows how his buildings were an almost perfect reflection of Dutch society in the 1950s and ’60s, which progressed steadily from the frugal reconstruction period to an affluent consumer society. When the tide of Dutch society began to turn at the close of the ’60s, Maaskant found himself carried along with it as an epigone of a bygone era. This was driven home in around 1970 when the baby-boomers, architecturally enlightened by Aldo van Eyck and others of Team X, made their entrance into the municipal departments and government institutions. From there they contributed to a colossal shift in policy away from the architecture of the reconstruction period and the prosperous ’60s. ‘Small-scale’ became the new watchword after the spaciousness and large scale of the previous decade. Needless to say, Maaskant was more inclined towards the latter.
With the critique of modernism gaining ground since the 1970s, Maaskant’s canon was one-sidely looked upon as functional, rational and technocratic, clouding the view of other themes in his work.
Since then, however, the dogmas of the ’70s have themselves become outmoded, ushering in a fresh appreciation of Maaskant’s buildings as examples of a fascinating metropolitan architecture. This has to do with the renewal of interest in typical ’60s design themes now back in play such as mass, large scale, infrastructure and designing for industry. Meanwhile faith in architecture’s utopian claims, its capacity to improve the world, has dwindled dramatically if not disappeared altogether. An ‘anti- social’ designer like Maaskant, who had always been aware of architecture’s limitations, could then return to the stage; more than that, his amoral attitude devoid of patronizing undertones was construed as a ‘modern’ stance, meaning in tune with the 1990s. Ideas that had been regarded in the ’70s as cynical were now looked upon as realistic. The optimism conveyed by his buildings, his acceptance of social trends as the architect’s programme and a faith in the future, have made his work popular again. Unquestionably, his image as a no-nonsense businessman also has its appeal; to say nothing of the flip side of that image, Maaskant as the society architect who with un-Dutch audacity succeeded in making grand gestures. Neither image is entirely true of course but they did make him a cult figure.
In recent years architectural critics have been keenly re-examining post-war modernism, particularly the many variants and the wide diversity covered by the term. The heterogeneity of the modernist canon, evident as far back as the early 1930s through regional differentiation and the reintroduction of a whole host of forgotten or displaced design themes, became so extreme in the post-war years that there was no longer any question of a movement with shared formal or stylistic premises. This multi-faceted presence, the disbanding of the architects’ associations (CIAM in an international context, ‘de 8’ and Opbouw in the Netherlands) and more generally the departure from the original social ideals were expressed from the ’70s onwards in the literature as a profound scepticism about the very existence of ‘the modern’ and as a demystification of all the constructs assiduously assembled in the writings of, say, the theorist Sigfried Giedion or the archi-tects of Team X. At the end of the day, this demythologizing failed to yield a new ‘narrative’ to replace the old; nor did it erect a new framework in which to better understand architects like Maaskant, who after all had had their roots in pre-war modernism. This book seeks to advance criteria, perspectives and arguments with which to analyse Maaskant’s work, distinct from the received traditions of existing architecture criticism. This it does in the first place through his designs and buildings and the relative autonomy of their visual form, and in the second place through the close ties his built work enjoyed with the social trends and themes of the time.
Maaskant figured prominently in developing new urban typologies for the contemporary briefs of traffic, city reconstruction and the creation of business districts and modern city centres. His architecture was less directed at therapeutically administering to the city than at questing for ‘signs’ that were to mark urban modernity. Aided by 15 portraits of selected buildings, this book paints a picture awash with complexities and contradictions, in a dual bid to showcase the fascinating work produced by Hugh Maaskant and help chronicle a multiform reading of Dutch post-war modernism.
New Towns on the Cold War Frontier is a publication on the cities that were built from scratch during the fifties and sixties all over the world. It is astonishing to see how the world population growth was accommodated along very similar lines in places very remote and different in culture and political background. Whether one looks at the Villes Nouvelles around Paris, the New Towns close to London, the new parts of Stockholm or cities like Hoogvliet in the Netherlands, a similar strategy and design method was applied. These cities were erected based on the ideas of the garden city, and a hierarchical ordering and zoning of functions relying on modernist urban planning. Starting in the London region in the forties, these New Towns soon became the panacea for urban growth in Western Europe.
Harder to understand is how the same modernist urban planning started to pop up and spread in developing, decolonising countries in Africa, the Middle East and Asia. The export of these New Town principles can only be understood from the background of the Cold War period, in which the east and west were both competing for the loyalty of the third world in every which way they knew how. Urban planning was considered to be a powerful instrument in cold war politics, and that the export of architecture and planning functioned as a means of cultural in stead of political colonization.
This chapter focuses on Tema, a New Town constructed in the newly independent nation state of Ghana and analyses it in the context of its Cold War origins. It describes and interprets its history, but also revisits the urbanistic project to discover and describe the way in which the New Town has been worn, torn, de- and reconstructed by its users. Next to that It critically investigates the current planning and building policies.