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120 five Can Prague Learn from L.A.? Frank Gehry’s Netherlands National Building in Prague David Houston As the countries of East and Central Europe emerge from under the weight of Soviet occupation, they each face a variety of urban challenges, from rebuilding Bosnia-Herzegovina to protecting historic districts from the corrosive influence of unbridled new development. The issue of weighing historic preservation against new development has been at the center of the debate over the Netherlands National Building, designed by American architect Frank Gehry, in Prague’s historic core. Working with a program and site previously proposed by Yugoslav-born architect Vladimir Milunić, Gehry designed a building that immediately became a potent symbol of post-Soviet Prague’s refusal (and inability) to remain suspended in a museum-like stasis. The ensuing debate over the Netherlands project has extended far beyond preservationist concerns and has rekindled discussions on national architectural identity and selfdetermination that were last argued in 1937, prior to the Nazi invasion. In June of 1993, President Václav Havel addressed the Pritzker Prize award ceremony in the great hall of Hradčany Castle and invited the architects of the West to build in Prague. The unceremonious delivery of this invitation sent waves of surprise through the audience. The many representatives of the Czech architectural establishment registered obvious concern about the idea’s implications, while the potential invitees were obviously delighted. The first Can Prague Learn from L.A.? 121 Western architect to benefit from the invitation, Frank Gehry, was present in that audience. The construction of his Netherlands National Building thus clearly demonstrates that Prague’s architectural character is not fixed and that its future integrity is not secure either, no matter what zoning and historical ordinances might protect it. The mark of an American postmodern architect has added a new layer of contemporary architectural activity, reawakening the city’s urban development and rekindling smoldering debates over Czech architectural and national identity. The initial controversy over Gehry’s proposed mixed-use building—for office, commercial, and entertainment space—involved site and context. Located just across from the National Theater on the Vltava River, the prominent corner site was only one of three such sites available for new construction in Prague’s highly regulated historic district. The lot had remained vacant since its accidental bombing by an American plane during the Second World War. Located at the end of a row of undistinguished predominantly nineteenthcentury buildings, Gehry’s project is visible from as far away as the Charles Bridge and the Castle, thus assuming an important presence amid a complex fabric of more than five centuries of urban development. From the outset, both the dynamic character and the overwhelming scale of the building raised concerns within the Czech architectural community. Projecting twin towers over the sidewalk, in a dancelike counterpoint to the bulging mass of the main structure, the building required significant variances in zoning ordinances that called for buildings to be set back to the edge of the sidewalk. Since the Gehry building is located near the apartment of President Václav Havel—who inspired the original Milunić proposal—the expediency with which zoning variances1 were granted for such a controversial and aesthetically dominant project raised lasting concerns over the city’s ability to regulate the character of its architectural future. These concerns appear especially well founded in the face of the potent alliance among power politics, foreign investment capital, and a celebrated American architect. Dubbed ‘‘Fred and Ginger’’ by the architect himself, Gehry’s building employs the metaphor of the dancers in the overwhelming stance of selfdisplay inherent in its dynamic character. Depending on one’s point of view, the building embodies either the elegance and playful interaction of dance or the awkwardness of an unwelcome guest dancing at an inappropriate place or time. Arguably, one can see an affinity between elements of the building and the baroque and art nouveau layers in the city. The Medusa-like sculpture crowning the Netherlands Building echoes the rounded medieval tower just upriver, and it bears a passing similarity to domes atop Wilson Station, Municipal Station, and the white art nouveau house at the corner of Jungunan Square. However, contextuality is not one of Gehry’s values or overwhelming concerns.2 With a technically sophisticated and aesthetically daring design, the building exhibits a tension between the architect’s playful sculptural style and the responsibility to respect the historical context of the neighborhood. [18...

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