法国,古尔纳夫,约瑟芬·贝克学院 / Dominique Coulon + Associés

建筑师: Dominique Coulon & Associés

地点:法国古尔纳夫

总建筑师:Dominique Coulon, Olivier Nicollas

参与设计建筑师:Sarah Brebbia, Benjamin Rocchi, Arnaud Eloudyi, Florence Haenel

面积:6,500 sqm

年份:2010

摄影: Eugeni Pons, Olivier Nicollas

结构工程师:Philippe Clement, Cécile Plumier, Frédéric Blanc

机械工程师:Marc Damant, Annie Pikard

景观:Bruno Kubler

该项目是Bernard Paurd所采用的风格非常含蓄的城市规划方案的一部分,试图整合不同的符号和痕迹,这些符号和痕迹叠加在建筑基地上,正如同各种著作的重叠抄本。该设计方案以两条历史轴线交汇的十字路口为基础对社区进行重组,这两条轴线一条从巴黎的圣米歇尔喷泉到圣丹尼斯大教堂,另一条从圣丹尼斯教堂开始朝着圣吕西安教堂延伸。这个X轴与Y轴相交的十字路口强调了汇集各种痕迹的地面——矗立着高卢罗马人墓地的废墟,这满目疮痍的环境见证了“Ravel”和“Presov”公寓楼的毁坏过程,它们是在2004年6月23日被炸毁的。仿佛地图已在这片地区刻上了特殊的标志。

这群学校建筑坐落在一片不等边四边形地块上,相当于两栋被毁建筑其中一栋原先的所在地。建筑师多米尼克•库隆在设计中遵循规划方案,并且符合Bernard Paurd的设计意图,但似乎将这些残垣断壁当成是恢复附近地区活力的基础,而非不可逆转的形势的耻辱柱,这是一种由Boris Cyrulnik分析的心理状态,他认为这种心理有助于克服这段痛苦难忘的遭遇。库隆因而自然而然地将其作品做成了扭曲的形式,这种主题曾在他的项目中曾经反复出现过。

设计标书要求避免建造封闭式的矩形体量,矩形正是这个地块的特色,另外考虑到建筑的密度与高度也有限制,建筑师对于设计标书中分别建造小学和幼儿园的要求产生了质疑。因此,他的设计提案描绘了一幅统一的组织架构,以艺术大师一般的技巧在由一系列坡道连接的两极之间的三维空间中展开了部署。因此,幼儿园的教室被推到最东端,位于悬挑于入口上方的楼层中,而小学的教室则占据了俯瞰间隙花园的西端。大童的儿童游乐场并入小童游乐场,后者包含了共享食堂,而运动区域置于另一栋建筑的屋顶,另一栋建筑之中还容纳了学校和幼儿园共用的图书馆。

尽管该建筑有着滑动的体量、折叠状与不对称外形,但是给人的第一印象仍然是洞口稀少的封闭式体量。小学教室在基地上堆叠而成,仅仅向一侧的花园开放,开放程度各有不同。虽然从外表看,许多凹槽式的洞口打断了立面的完整性,从而使建筑的垂直特色占据主要地位,但是自相矛盾的是,一旦从入口进入,建筑的水平特征就更加明显了。仿佛在一个严格限定的区域内展开了一片无边无垠的宇宙,欢迎孩子们在这里异想天开。这里是一个启蒙场所,暂时将孩子们与成人世界分开,所以为了在适当的时机更好地融入其中,学生们能够自行选择必要的空间间隔和灵活性。

从一个空间到另一个空间以及到入口处的通道似乎在设计中都得到了特别注意:进入学校,脱掉外衣,挂起来,然后穿过一道门,进入教室,端坐在教师的面前;笑着离开教室,并且在娱乐时间大喊大叫。这就是这一建筑作品的从入口开始的全部工作方式,在“前进”与“后退”之间微妙的双重运动中展开。

有一种构造安排让人回忆起竣工于1667年的St-Charles-aux-Quatre-Fontaines教堂。顶层以一种保护的姿态向前方伸出,欢迎孩子们的到来。而光滑的地面往回收起,向内发掘,打破了孩子与其家长分离的戏剧性场面。走廊改变了形状,在教室门前方扩张,从顶棚处投射下来的丰富的自然光线就好像是为了更好地将走廊定义为减压区域,深呼吸,随即大步迈入工作区域。最后,操场的顶棚向外伸展,远远超出了通往天台运动区域的坡道。这种压缩和膨胀之间的演变,赋予这座混凝土结构以有机之感,橙色的选用更进一步强化了这种特色。整个地面均为橙色,墙壁和天花板偶尔也有采用橙色的地方,渲染那一缕缕灿烂的阳光,点亮了屋顶区域。

如此一来,在与蔚蓝天空相互映衬的情况下,形成了一种开放大气的建筑外观,并且释放出了所有的能量。正如同朱尔·费里担任法国总理期间一样,这些学校常常看起来是为成年人设计的,不过按照孩子们的身高减少了尺寸而已。交通路径和教室的排列顺序见证了不同孩子的身体与空间之间的各种关系,彼此更加融洽地结合在一起,无法完全通过语言来描述。约瑟芬·贝克学院的教室、走廊和操场围绕着一个永远都处于变化状态的建筑体,向周围延伸与分解,随时恭候阳光洒落,在气候的细微变化之中感受上千次玩耍的机会。

在建筑中采用了天然产品——比如在地板上铺油毡,在门窗框架上使用木材,甚至对于最微小的细枝末节部位也不放过,力求建造一座差不多可称得上豪华的建筑,无数学生和家长将会在学院新建筑的落成典礼上热情欢呼,他们都渴望忘记过去,翻开新的篇章,坚定地面对未来。


Architects: Dominique Coulon & Associés

Location: La Courneuve, France

Architects In Charge: Dominique Coulon, Olivier Nicollas

Assistant Architects: Sarah Brebbia, Benjamin Rocchi, Arnaud Eloudyi, Florence Haenel

Area: 6,500 sqm

Year: 2010

Photographs: Eugeni Pons, Olivier Nicollas

Structural Engineer: Philippe Clement, Cécile Plumier, Frédéric Blanc

Mechanical Engineer: Marc Damant, Annie Pikard

Landscape: Bruno Kubler

The project is part of the very subtle town planning scheme adopted by Bernard Paurd, in an attempt to pull together the different signs and traces that are superposed on the site like the various writings on a palimpsest.  The scheme reorganises the neighbourhood on the basis of the right-angled intersection of two historic axes, one leading from Paris– from the Saint-Michel fountain – to St Denis’ Cathedral, the other starting from the cathedral and heading towards St Lucien’s church.  This crossing of X and Y axes highlights the surfacing of various traces - ruins of a Gallo-Roman necropolis stand where the scarred landscape bears witness to the demolition of the ‘Ravel’ and ‘Presov’ blocks of flats, dynamited on 23 June 2004.  As if the map had marked the territory with a tattoo.

The group of schools occupies a trapezoid-shaped plot of land obliterated by the non-aedificandi area corresponding to the location of one of the two buildings that were demolished.  Dominique Coulon stays in line with the scheme and the intentions of Bernard Paurd, but seems to consider this scar as the substratum for an act of resilience – a psychological process analysed by Boris Cyrulnik that makes it possible to overcome traumatic situations – rather than the stigma of an irreversible situation.  He thus returns spontaneously to his work on twisting shapes, a theme that recurs constantly in his projects.

The requirement to refrain from constructing closed volumes based on the rectangle that is a feature of the plot of land, combined with the constraints in terms of density and height, has enabled him to question the separation of the primary and nursery schools in the brief.  His proposal therefore sketches out a unitary organisation, deployed with virtuoso skill in the three dimensions of the space between two poles linked by a system of ramps.  Thus the nursery school classrooms are pushed to the east, on a floor cantilevered above the entrance, and the primary school classrooms occupy areas to the west overlooking interstitial gardens.  The older children’s playground merges into the area reserved for the younger children, which already contains the shared canteen, while the sports areas have been placed on the roof of the other block, which contains the library shared by the two schools.

Despite its sliding volumes, folds and asymmetry, the building gives a first impression of an enclosed shape with few openings.  The primary school classrooms, superposed on the site, only opens up to any real extent to their gardens at the side.  Although on the outside the verticality is dominant as a result of the many indentations that break up the façades, it is paradoxically the horizontal aspect that is more evident once through the entrance.  As if an infinite universe was opening up inside a strictly defined area, welcoming a heterotopia reserved for the children.  An initiatory place where the pupils can be cut off from the adult world, so that they can adopt the necessary distance and momentum the better to dive into it in due course.

Particular attention seems to have been paid to passages from one space to another, to thresholds: entering the school, taking off your coat and hanging it up before going through the door into the classroom and sitting down in front of the teacher; laughing as you leave the classroom, and shouting out in the playground at playtime.  That is how the building works, from the entrance onwards, in a subtle two-fold movement of advance and retreat.

An arrangement that recalls the curves and counter-curves of the façade of the St-Charles-aux-Quatre-Fontaines church completed in 1667 by Francesco Borromini.  In a protective gesture, the upper floor projects forwards to welcome the children, while the glazed ground floor withdraws and digs in to defuse the drama of separating the child from its parents.  The corridors change shape and expand in front of the classroom doors and receive abundant natural light from the zenith, as if the better to define themselves as areas for decompression before taking a deep breath and plunging into the work areas.  Lastly, the canopy of the playground thrusts out well beyond the ramp that leads up to the rooftop sport areas.  This play of compression and expansion, giving an organic feel to the concrete structure, is further accentuated by use of the colour orange.  It covers the floors and occasionally spills over onto the walls and ceilings, rendering the slightest ray of sunshine incandescent and lighting up the roof area.

This has the appearance of an open hand beneath the complementary blue of the sky, revealed in all its power.  All too frequently, as in Jules Ferry’s time, schools seem to be designed as areas for adults reduced to the scale of children.  The sequences of traffic paths and classrooms are witness here to a different relationship between the child’s body and space, one that is all the more fused together in that is it not yet totally mediatised by language.  The classrooms, corridors and playgrounds of the ‘Josephine Baker’ schools stretch out and break up around an indefinite body, a body