Showing posts with label oldies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oldies. Show all posts

30 June 2013

Is Oriel Chambers the first curtain wall ever?


Oriel Chambers, 14 Water Street Liverpool. Peter Ellis 1864
Back to oldies. In October 2012 I was invited to an architectural seminar in Liverpool, organized by Tile of Spain, to discuss about ceramics in facades. Another speaker was Maurits Van der Staay, an associate in Renzo Piano Building Workshop, who presented their terracotta façade on Central St Giles London. The morning after the venue Maurits and I re-visited two architectural jewels in Liverpool: Oriel Chambers in 14th Water Street (1864) and a similar office building in 16th Cook Street (1866). This post will remind us about these two buildings and their now forgotten architect; and in particular how they deserve credit as some of the first examples of a lightweight glazed façade – a real curtain wall – installed in a multistory building. Please take note of the dates again, 1864 and 1866: that means only thirteen years after the Crystal Palace and thirty years before the design of pioneering Chicago School facades as the Reliance or the Fair Store. Real oldies, right?

16 Cook Street Liverpool. Peter Ellis 1866.
(Image from Maurits van der Staay 2012)
The Wikipedia entry for curtain wall has two images of Oriel Chambers and 16 Cook Street, and it refers to them as two of the world's first buildings to include a curtain wall façade. By this they mean a fairly glazed multi-storey building set in an urban context; not a warehouse, a dockyard or the gable of a large train station. Let’s reckon from the start the impossibility of determining what the real ‘first’ curtain wall was, since the development of any building system is an evolutionary process moving through several directions simultaneously. But it’s time to give Peter Ellis, the architect of Oriel Chambers and 16 Cook Street, the merit he deserves as one of the pioneers in curtain walling, regardless the fact that his influence was small, if any.

The available literature on these two buildings is scarce. It is clear that their author was Peter Ellis (1804-1884), a local architect and surveyor about whose life and work there are strong shadows. These are the only two buildings clearly attributed to him; we don’t know if Ellis signed any other project in Liverpool or anywhere else. There are no records of his previous and later activities: he may have been a surveyor, a civil engineer, or a developer before designing Oriel Chambers and 16 Cook Street; and apparently he went back to surveying or to other businesses after finishing the second building in 1866. The reason seems to be found in the fierce critics with which the two buildings were received at the time, but we will come back later to that.

Oriel Chambers among its neighbours facing Water Street
Oriels and stone: it's not all glass!
Both buildings have been designed with the same purpose: office space for rent in the shape of chambers. A chamber is what the Americans would call suite, that is, a small office valid for any purpose; whether legal, financial or commercial in general. Each chamber was supposed to be rented for a private business with a small number of users, between two and ten generally. There is little space for sumptuosity, and above all no plan space to be lost in halls or extra money to be devoted to architectural features on the façades.

The Oriel Chambers building
It seems that Peter Ellis won the commission for the first building (Oriel Chambers) as a result of a competition between local architects organized by the developer (an unknown T.A., as the golden initials on top of the main façade declare). The reasons for selecting Ellis’ scheme – from a developer’s perspective - are clear by having a look at the plans and sections. The entrance to the building is located out of the main façade axis because it fronts the corridor, which is located at the axis of the inner part of the building, much longer than the Water Street façade. In other words, internal space efficiency is given much more importance than architectural expression.

Oriel Chambers: Ground floor plan and elevation to Covent Garden St
Oriel Chambers: Elevation to Water St, section and elevation to the inner courtyard
The building from the outside seems to have three main floors but in fact there are five, all with a large amount of natural light and free available space. The central corridor separates the plan in two lettable areas per floor: one side opening to Covent Garden Street and the other side opening to a narrow internal courtyard. Covent Garden Street was not too wide even by 19th century Liverpool standards, so not much light would be expected from the street. But the bit facing the courtyard would be much darker than the other, resulting in a potential loss in let revenues. So a scheme providing lots of light to both sides of the building (external and courtyard’s façade) must have sounded appealing to the owner. And the was right in his selection: the building is still a lettable space today and it houses the same kind of small firms (barristers among others) with apparent success almost 150 years after it opened.

Oriel Chambers: proposed occupation in a typical office floor.
The courtyard is the narrow strip located above to the centre-right.

Prior Bolton's oriel window at St Bartholomew
the Great church, London c. 1500.
It's interesting to note that the church
was being restored during the 1860s...
Oriel Chambers was named this way because of the oriel (projecting bay) windows that cover in vertical stripes the two facades. The short façade, seven stripes of windows with the non-symmetrical main entrance, opens to Water Street with a southeast orientation. Water Street was one of the important arteries of the city at the mid-nineteenth century, connecting the City Hall with the Mersey river docks. The lateral northeast façade to Covent Garden Street was by far the largest, extending originally along 20 window strips, divided in five sectors of four vertical bands each. The back half of the building was damaged by German bombs drop over Liverpool during the Second World War, so that now only the first 12 strips are original, and the rest of the volume has been rebuilt in a different style by James & Bywaters in 1959. In fact, the wartime damage enabled the original construction to be fully appreciated regarding its architectural and engineering significance.

Oriels facing Water St.
The original structure is a combination of cast iron H-shaped columns forming a grid frame with cast iron inverted T-section beams (girders), spanning along the short direction of the building. The shape of the girders comes from other sources; I have verified the columns section on site and they remain as originally. Lateral stiffness is provided by transversal brick walls with chimneys that interrupt the long volume every four stripes. The span between frames is small and it coincides with the windows’ module. This means that the external and internal facades (opening to a large but narrow courtyard) become free of any structural stiffening requirement.

Oriels facing Covent Garden St. The slim stone column is cladding a cast iron H-shape stanchion.

And here is where Peter Ellis started making his magic. The external façades facing Water St and Covent Garden St are covered with oriels: bow windows with an overhang bottom support. Oriels facing Covent Garden St are wider than those facing Water St (see image below); which seems a good idea since the former receive less natural light. The column line between oriels is externally clad with a thin section of stone pieces, reminding slender Gothic columns. These lines don’t end up in arches though, but instead finish rather abruptly – one would say in an abstract way – when they reach the top of the building line. For us the visual result isn’t striking: we are used to building facades resembling rectangular grids. But for Ellis’ contemporaries this façade must have been a clear break in relation to what was considered ‘proper urban architecture’.

Oriel width comparison: left to Water St.; right to Covent Garden St.
The lightness achieved through the oriels is really high by today's standards, and it must have seemed extraordinary to Ellis' contemporaries. The first two images below are inner views of office space overlooking Covent Garden St, and the last one is an image of a narrower window located at the ground floor, with views to Water St.

View of the oriels from inside. Façade overlooking Covent Garden St.
Same as above
View from an oriel towards Water St.
Air ventilation is obtained via one side-hung window at every oriel. The height of the window is 1/2 the height of the oriel, so they can be read as vertical sliding openings, which they are not. The sash opens to the inside and the sash retainer is visible from the outside. See details here below.

Side hung window, opening to the inside. Notice the bottom hinge.
Sash retainer located outside the window. The sash can be locked in three positions.

The (hidden) curtail wall in Oriel Chambers
Now, glazed as it looks, how could this be the first curtain wall in a multi-storey building in history? This is not the case if you focus on the external facades only: the amount of glass is noticeable but what we see is a continuum of large projecting glass elements in a rectangular grid of stone blocks cladding an iron frame.

There is at least a previous building in Glasgow that could claim precedent, the Gardner’s Warehouse in 36 Jamaica Street (see below), built in 1856 by John Baird using a structural system patented by R. McConnell, iron founder. The Gardner’s façade reminds the Crystal Palace, built in London in 1851, in a more direct way than Peter Ellis’ one. The building in Glasgow was a warehouse after all, ours is an office building located in prime location in Liverpool.

Gardner's Warehouse. 36 Jamaica St, Glasgow. John Baird 1856.
The real secret of Oriel Chambers is hidden behind; at it becomes visible only when you are given access to the inner courtyard. My colleague Maurits and I were lucky to arrive to the building on a workday morning at 9am, when clerks were entering their offices. Looking like an architect has advantages if you want to access a private property, and we were soon taken to the courtyard through the solicitor’s firm occupying the main floor.

There came the surprise: a receding, all-glass façade with a shape of protruding elements between columns seemed to absorb any little ray of light arriving to the courtyard. Again, an architectural solution that seems contemporary to us but absolutely new at the time of its design. One may say that the oriel glass boxes at the front are the ‘culturized’ version of this completely ‘form follows function’ glazed solution at the back.

Left: view of Oriel Chambers inner courtyard. Right: vertical section of the curtain wall opening to the courtyard. Notice the cast iron vertical stanchion and how the curtain wall moves out of it every floor down.
Look at the vertical section above right and you will get it: each floor recedes a bit over the one below to allow for more light coming to the bottom. The sloped rooftop piece above the windows at each level is made of wired glass to obtain direct solar radiation. A counter-sloped panel acts as bottom parapet, and it looks like a thin piece of timber with an external bituminous layer. The iron H-shaped columns are not at the receding façade line but in a vertical axis independent from it. The glazed wall acts as a thin, lightweight layer gently cladding a structure, not taking any load but its own, with a shape that bows to light and brings it in without losing a bit. That's a mature curtain wall in concept.

Since there are very few images of this extraordinary piece or architecture in the Web, I am adding here below a selection of the pictures I took during our early morning visit.

General view of the courtyard. All structural members of the curtain wall are in timber.
The top and vertical members are in glass; the bottom one is a timber panel.
Detail of the curtain wall, floors one to three (4th floor is flat vertical)
Contrast between the curtain wall and the receding structural wall to the left.
Corner of the curtain wall at the edge of the courtyard. The narrow strip is located opposite to Water St.
Corner of the curtain wall looking up. Note the receding structural wall in the centre.
Connection between the curtain wall and the receding brick wall. The building to the left is the bombarded wing that was re-built after the war.
Detail of the above. The sloped glass on top is very visible.
View of the curtain wall to the courtyard from inside. See the sloped glass on top.

This is clearly a proto-20th century office building curtain wall, thirty years older than those of the Chicago School but going far beyond them and connecting directly with Gropius’ Fagus Factory in Alfeld – which was to be built fifty years later! Now is when you grasp the importance of this hidden place.

16 Cook Street – more news to come
After the successful visit to Oriels Chambers Maurits and I walked to Cook Street, located less than ten minutes away, also at the city centre. 16 Cook Street is another rental office building, smaller than the previous one, that Peter Ellis finished in 1866. I have not found any information about the owner. Was it the same developer from Water Street or a different one? Was this building the result of a competition or a direct commission? Judging by its smaller dimensions and the use of very similar architectural features I tend to think that this was a direct commission, for a client who knew well what he wanted.

The building plan is an L-shape (as Oriel Chambers) but much smaller in size and with only a main façade. The rear and lateral walls open to a courtyard that was as narrow as the former.

16 Cook Street, top of front view
Contrast with contemporary neightbour facade
Again, you can find some references in today's architectural literature to the main façade but very few to the rear one. The façade to Cook St is perfectly symmetrical. The play between glass and stone appears again, but here there are no oriels: glass remains flat between slender stone-clad columns. The whole can be read as an abstract gothic- or Venetian-like window: a central, three-strips bay ends in an arch at the top and is flanked by two smaller vertical bays, also ending in smaller arches. The building, as that in Water St, has five floors, but here all floors are fairly the same height and express themselves similarly to the façade. Verticality together with light-catching seems to be the theme for Peter Ellis here.

The entrance to the building is located at the left corner, with the shop entrance conveniently symmetrical at the right end. The entrance hall is a slender corridor connecting the street with a spiral staircase that opens to the back courtyard, clad almost entirely in glass with the thinnest of cast iron mullions.

16 Cook St: back elevation (left) and spiral stairs from the courtyard (right)
Spiral stair from inside
The stair and its cladding are supported from both sides at every floor, leaving the impression that the whole is floating without any column. Clever but not so difficult considering its tiny dimensions. This leaves the rest of the plan available for one or two offices per floor, with plenty of light entering through the street and/or the rear courtyard windows.

The façade as seen from ABW Architects office
Maurits and I were lucky once again. The second floor is at present occupied by ABW Architects, a firm formed in 2008 by two partners, Simon Almond and Andrew Brown, working across the northwest UK. We were given access to their studio and could have a chat and take pictures. The atmosphere inside was great – lots of light but definitely a small space. Old Peter Ellis was clever enough to conceal the limited available space playing with a continuous volume that seems much larger from the street.

Drawing from inside the office (from ABW Architects webpage)


And again a curtain wall surprise was waiting for us there. It was not visible in the front façade, glazed as it is. Only when you access the office floors you perceive the small courtyard and the way the building opens to it at the back in search of light.

Back curtain wall as seen from the stairs
Here the façade to the courtyard is not receding back as it moves up, probably because of the lack of space. But we find again the lightweight, protruding curtain wall in three planes: vertical and sloped with glass, counter sloped with a timber panel. And this time the curtain wall ends in a transparent corner at the very back of the building.

We saw two H-shaped columns completely independent from the wall. One of them shows how the curtain wall is attached to the cast iron structure using an iron strip in tension (see bottom image left).

Inner cast iron column at the back office and curtain wall connection
Corner glass around cast iron column
The other column at the back corner is even more striking, because the glass wall completely clads the column from the outside without touching the structure. We have seen this detail many times in modern curtain wall architecture, but in 1866?

The contact of the curtain wall horizontal stripes with the vertical glazed cylindrical staircase takes place in a clean way. It could be a Dutch architectural detail from the 1930s. An amazing solution but concealed from everyone’s view – as much today as when it was built.





Details of the curtain wall around the corner cast iron column

Reaction to the two Ellis’ buildings
Seen from today’s perspective Oriel Chambers and 16 Cook Street may be seen as a precedent and even a paradigm of the Modern Movement - but it was not one immediately appreciated to say the least. Oriel Chambers was seen, for the local Porcupine, as ‘hard, liney, and meagre’. The strongest critic by far came from the London architectural periodical The Building News in February 7, 1868, signed by a ‘our own correspondent’. The critic pompously dismissed Oriel Chambers out of hand:

This is a kind of greenhouse architecture run mad; consisting of a series of vertical bays running completely from top to bottom of the building (…) rising from the plinth without any basis, said shafts being flanked by a very large coarse “nail head” ornament. (…) The style, in short, might be described as “lunar Gothic;” and no one who has not seen it would believe, we think, that such a thing could, in the present day, be erected in cold blood by any person calling himself a member of the architectural profession.

In a similar vein, The Builder stated:

The plainest brick warehouse in town is infinitely superior as a building to that meager agglomeration of protruding plate-glass bubbles in Water Street termed Oriel Chambers. Did we not see this vast abortion (which would be depressing were it not ludicrous) with our own eyes; we should have doubted the possibility of its existence. Where and in what are their beauties supposed to lie?

As late as 1921, Charles Reilly, head of the Liverpool School of Architecture, called it the ‘oddest building in Liverpool, at once so logical and so disagreeable … as a cellular habitation for the human insect is a distinct asset to the town’.

Oriel Chambers' glass windows protected during the Second World War
It is clear now that those radical cast iron frames that Glasgow, Manchester, and Liverpool produced among others in the 1860s and 70s, led after the 1870s to a slow falling-away from industrial innovation and to a shift back to London-supported historicist decorations. Probably this was the origin not only to the decline of the North but also to British near-absence from the Modern Movement up to very late in the twentieth century.

The positive reaction produced by the two Ellis' buildings, although little, was not completely inexistent in 20th century British architecture. As Brian Hutton wrote in Architectural Review in 2008:

Perhaps Oriel displeased locals because it abstracted from a Gothic model in a city that remained mostly Classical. (…) And indeed, to eyes now less Modern than Post-Modern, what may strike from the Oriel is less a paradigm of rationality than something both more abstract and more wilful. So that when, in the 1960s, James Stirling drew from Oriel in his Leicester Engineering Laboratory, his model was neither its chamfered details nor even its functionalism, but the geometric glass cascade of its atrium walls. 

James Stirling, although born in Glasgow, grew up in Liverpool and studied architecture there.

Adam Caruso (from Caruso St John) is a contemporary architect with a strong personal link to the two Ellis buildings. He wrote in 2010

I’m not so interested in the Ellis buildings being examples of a proto-modernism, a part of that inexorable linear progression from the Crystal Palace to European inter-war modernism. I think that’s a convenient post-rationalisation perpetuated by modernist historians. I am more interested in the Ellis buildings in the context of the cast-iron offices and warehouses that were being built in the mid-19th century in Liverpool and Glasgow, like the Gardner’s Warehouse in Glasgow by John Baird in 1856. These buildings had cast-iron structures and facades and had all but eliminated most of the elements of what would have previously constituted a “correct” urban facade. I am particularly interested in why Peter Ellis chose to clad his cast-iron structures in stone,organised according to a Gothic language (…). He was developing an expression for his building that was in addition to, and was autonomous of, their technology.

Peter Ellis, John Root and curtain walls
Can we spot an influence of Peter Ellis’ two proto-modern curtain walls in any later period of architecture? As Adam Caruso mentioned above, it is almost impossible to trace any linear progression from the Crystal Palace to the glazed boxes of the 1930s passing through Peter Ellis. A potential link might be the application of glass and iron frame technology to the front of urban buildings, almost for the first time in history. But many years had to pass before large glass plates and iron / steel frames could come back to the front.

An interesting side influence, though not too obvious, has been established between our two buildings and the architectural training of John Wellborn Root (1850 – 1891), who would become the partner in the Chicagoan firm Burnham & Root, one of the founders of the Chicago School around the 1880s and 90s. Root was born in Georgia and raised in Atlanta with his parents. In 1864, when Atlanta fell to the Union during the American Civil War, Root’s father managed to send him with two brothers on a steamer to Liverpool, where John’s father had shipping business contacts. While in Liverpool, Root studied at a school in Claremont for three years (from 14 to 17 years old), and he even passed the exams for entering Oxford. But in 1867 he returned to the US to study architecture at New York University.

It can only be a speculation, but a teen-aged John Root might have seen and remembered the brand new Oriel Chambers in Liverpool, together with the spiral staircase of 16 Cook St, the latter finished just months before he sailed back to America. Now fast forward to the 10 floor-high Rookery building in Chicago, built in 1888, one of Root’s masterpieces. Can you see a vague influence from Oriel at the top corner stone pinnacles?

The Rookery Building Chicago, 1888. Burnham and Root architects.
There are no oriel windows here, except maybe the gentle curvature of the central bay of windows up to the sixth floor...

The Rookery building Chicago, 1888. Spiral staircase at the inner atrium
Perhaps the clearest reminiscence, once again, does not take place at the front but in the courtyard above the glazed atrium. Here yes, the spiral staircase in the centre is in a similar vein to Ellis’ model in Cook Street, and the window-to-wall ratio of the inner façades reminds that of the two courtyards back in Liverpool.



Engraved plate at the door of Oriel Chambers



What happened with Peter Ellis after his two office buildings were finished (and received with derision in Liverpool and London)? We have no idea: he seems to have come back to surveying or to civil engineering, but there are no traces of his activities at all. There are no buildings signed by Ellis after 1866, so it seems quite obvious that the sharp criticism ended with his short architectural career. The last news is that of his death in 1884, at the long age of 80 years. His obituary appeared in the Liverpool Daily Post in October 21.

It is an irony to see that Peter Ellis is remembered (in a stone engraved plate by the door to Oriel Chambers, see above) as a 'pioneer in the use of prefabricated structural units in cast iron'. This, being true, is unfair to his evident contribution as a forefather of curtain walling, clearly his largest achievement and the one by which he is and will be remembered. Sometimes two buildings are enough to have your name written in history.

28 May 2012

Sydney Opera House: decoding the glass walls

Utzon's sketch of the Sydney Opera House. The Red Book, 1958.
First, a confession: I've never been to Australia. Is it possible to 'decode' a complex element of the Sydney Opera House as the external glass walls without having ever visited the building? The obvious answer is no, but one doesn't lose much with trying.

Jorn Utzon
Then, there is some consolation in the fact that Jorn Utzon himself never saw the glass walls as they are now - he didn't even take part in their final design. This is the second most important feature of the facade of the Sydney Opera House - after the concrete shells of course - and it is not an Utzon design at all: Utzon left the site in 1966 and the glass walls were designed and built bewteen 1970 and 1972.

In this post we will not deal with the concrete shells or the precast enamelled porcelain cladding of the shells. Our focus are the glazed walls located at both ends and long sides of the three main buildings above the podium: the Concert Hall, the Opera Theatre and the Restaurant.

Glazing of the Concert Hall north end, 1972.

Many questions arose when I started digging: are the glazed walls at least partly Utzonian? Who were their designers? Was it a smooth process - since the Danish architect was not there any longer - or was it another nightmare within the general conundrum of the job? And finally, is there anything we can learn from the Sydney Opera House glass walls, now that we celebrate 40 years after their conclusion?

The glass walls during the competition and first stages of design.
Let's start at the beginning. It is November 1956 in Hellebaek, Denmark. Jorn Utzon, a young architect (38 at the time) has spent all his spare time during the last six months working at the design of an Opera House for a competition in Sydney, Australia. He has of course not visited the site - it would be too strenous and expensive an effort. His main ideas for the design are already defined: the unifying podium, the decision of splitting the opera hall and the theatre in two parallel buildings plus a smaller one housing a restaurant, a number of concrete shells flying above the three volumes.

Competition section drawn by Utzon, 1956.


Natural light is not a critical requirement for an opera house; concerts and theatre plays happen mostly at night. But views of the Sydney bay are magnificent at the point where the buildings will be located, and Utzon's design gives predominance to the two short ends of the main buildings: one edge overlooking the bay, the other receiving visitors from the city. What did Utzon imagine for those large gable ends behind the shells? Around the end of the competition (see above) he quickly draw a longitudinal section showing vertical glass walls hanging from the outer shells and suddenly twisting out to become almost horizontal glazed canopies. At one side (north, overlooking the bay) the glazed canopies cover the space of the back foyers. At the other side (south, looking to the city) they are part of the entrance space receiving the visitors.
SOH - Plan, 1957. North is at the left side. Top: Theatre. Down: Opera and restaurant.

SOH - South view, first model 1957. From left to right: restaurant, Opera and Theatre buildings.
SOH - North view, first model 1957. Left: Theatre; right: Opera Hall building.
Jump to late spring 1957. The competition had been awarded on January that year and Utzon had come up as the winner. He is rushing with the preparation of additional drawings and a model (the first one) to take with him for his first visit to Sydney. The north shells are now taller, and the south ones shorter.

The model (see the two images above, south and north sides) has a first visualization of the glass walls. They look like a simplified version of the competition scheme: there are no horizontal glazed canopies, and the upper part of the glass walls is covered with what looks as horizontal louvres. Remember we are in Australia; midday sun shines at the north side and louvres here appear on both sides. This proposal was not going to last.

Cover of the Red Book, prepared by Utzon in 1958.


Platform level with zig-zag vertical glass walls, 1958.
Further jump, now to spring 1958. Utzon has just completed a preliminary summary of the project at his office in Hellebaek, before returning to Sydney to meet with his client for the second time. The design and a supporting text are encased in an elegant publication with a vermillion cover: it would become known as the Red Book.

The design for the glass end walls adopts a different configuration: they are now zig-zagging in plan and vertical in section, looking like a folding screen (see plan above and section below). This makes sense from a structural point of view because the different folded planes stiffen one another against wind loads. A second look at the longitudinal section below explains why these glazed elements are so stiff: the roof shells in the Red Book are still rather low, thus requiring an edge support at the glass walls. So these woud have to incorporate some kind of steel mullions transmitting the roof loads down to the podium.

Longitudinal section of the Concert Hall, Red Book 1958. Notice the folding screen glass ends.
The elevations show the glass walls divided in rectangular pieces with discontinued horizontal transoms. The longitudinal section deals (rather unsucessfully) with one of the future problems of the glazed walls: how they connect with the curved inner side of the shells. A vertical, folding screen plan as proposed here would obviously make this connection a nightmare.

West elevation of the Concert Hall, Red Book 1958. Transoms are located at different heights; the folding screen at left masks roof-supporting columns for the north shell.


The proposal for the glass walls shown at the Red Book (the third version of this element) would have no continuation, as the previous two. It is clear that Utzon, in the period between 1956 and 1962, was more interested in developing first the general concept, then the podium and finally the shell roofs of the Opera House. The glass walls, as many other important design elements, had to wait. This design process so dear to Utzon - progressing element by element - would prove to be a crucial mistake and was part of the crisis that would eventually force his resignation from the project in 1966.

The glass walls in Utzon's project for Stage II
It soon became clear that the whole Opera House process would take a long time to design and build. The client, the architect and the engineers agreed in splitting the design and construction process in three stages: Stage I for Podium; Stage II for the roof shells and Stage III for glass walls plus interiors.

The construction of the Sydney Opera House started by the podium in March 1959, based on the Red Book designs with some modifications, finally approved in April 1958. As the construction of the podium progressed, Utzon and the engineers of Ove Arup and Partners continued to progress on the roof shells design, both in Hellebaek and London. The geometry of the shells presented in the 1958 Red Book was based on a parabola. Since this presented several engineering and construction problems a long period of proposals ensued, until in the autumn of 1961 Utzon came up with the proposal of using a sphere as the geometry for the surface of the shells. This was supported by Ove Arup and allowed the engineers to finally produce calculations and construction drawings for the shells in 1962 - 63.

Cover of Utzon's Yellow Book, dated 1962.
In the spring of 1962 Utzon returned to Sydney in order to present the Stage II architectural diagrams along with Jack Zunz, head of the engineering team in Ove Arup and Partners. Utzon's presentation - the next one after the Red Book - would be called the Yellow Book because of the colour of its cover.

In the Yellow Book, unlike for years ago with the Red Book, Utzon and his team present for the first time a well-thought proposal for the glass walls, at least in geometrical terms. Now the edge shells, based in a spherical shape, are higher and more pointed than the first shells. The now self-standing superstructure no longer required the complementary support considered in the Red Book four years earlier. The glazed facades could become the light membranes first envisaged during the competition: curtain walls, suspended under ogival arches, formed by blades of glass mounted in slim frames. In a letter from 1965 Utzon explained (as quoted by Françoise Fromonot in 'Jorn Utzon. The Sydney Opera House'):
"The problem that faced me was to create a glazing system sufficiently flexible to make up the irregular overall shape and have sufficient strength to resist the wind loads imposed over such a vast area".
And he continued:
"Our early attempts to use composite structures of concrete and steel or bronze were too complicated and too rigid. The answer was to be found in a simple geometrical system consisting of a series of glass panels of modular size held between flexible mullions which can be adjusted to any shape and portion as required". 
Utzon selected tubular plywood as the preferred material for these mullions, and he abandoned the sheer verticality of his previous solutions to embrace articulated membranes, "like the wings of a bird".

Glass wall principle from the 1962 Yellow Book.
Reference image for the new mullions idea: sea bird, picture by Emil Schultess.
Utzon illustrated this metaphor with an image of a seagull in flight. The glass walls now curved out in overlapping sections from top to bottom, from vertical at the summits of the vaults to near horizontal above the platform. At the lower end, their tales formed transparent canopies over the glass doors that provided access to the foyers. The folding mullions implied the absence of a dead-loading mission as well as eliminating reflections in the glass.

The images below are taken from the Yellow Book and show the application of the plywood mullions to the north and south glass walls.

Side elevation and plan of the northern glass wall framing. Yellow Book, 1962.





Section and front elevation of the northern glass walls. Yellow Book, 1962.


Development of the glass walls by Utzon during Stage III
In March 1963, a year after the presentation of the Yellow Book, Utzon moved to Australia to live there with his family. Construction of the Opera House roofs was well underway and he was occupied - finally - developing his proposals for the glass walls and the interiors.

For both elements Utzon had decided to use innovative plywood technology. It may seem a little incongruous to develop timber profiles as structural elements for immense glass walls, but it followed a joint research undertaken by the architect with the Australian company Ralph Symonds Ltd, experts in reconstituted wood for industrial use. Ralph Symonds, a short man but a visionary industrialist, set up a vacuum bagging process and very large presses so that plywood could be made in 50 foot long sheets (about 18 metres), which was at the time an enormous length of plywood. Utzon saw this and realised that by using Symonds' vacuum bagging process he could achieve large sections in plywood spanning long distances. These sections were going to be the lining systems of the small theatres underneath the podium of the Opera House and the corridors. And they were the right material for the mullions at the glass walls as well.

Plywood mullions as standard elements - Architect's models, end of 1964.

The mullions were to be built up bonding seven layers of 13mm white Soraya pine plywood sheet into 600mm deep x 90m wide sections. The layers could be stepped to accomodate all mullion configurations. On either side of the timber mullion the external layer would be curved to form a U-shaped channel to which the glass would be fixed by a normal screwed-on clip system. Finally a U-formed cover piece would enclose the outer mullion front. To resist external weather conditions these cover pieces were going to be finished in hot-bonded bronze sheets.

The mullions were to be prefabricated and then assembled on site, like a Meccano set. The result, to Utzon satisfaction, combined the design of pieces suited to their role with the accuracy of industrial craftmanship.

Plan section and model from 1964 showing the standardisation solution for the south walls.

Model dated end of 1964. Concourse view with plywood mullions, south side.

View from the harbour (north), model 1964.
The drawings prepared by the architect's team on site between 1964 and 1965 show all glass walls in the same grid of 1.2m wide, reflecting the dimension of the paving slabs of the platform, visually conveying this dimension up to the peaks of the vaults. In the last drawings from 1966 the glass width has been reduced to 91cm (3 feet). Glass would be laminated for safety reasons, the panels being specified in commercially available dimensions.

On the last model produced under Utzon's supervision - dated early 1966 - the glass walls have a more vigorous quality; transoms have been totally suppressed and the mullions fall directly onto the bottom platform. The mullions are thin and deep: viewed from the side the facades would be perceived as an opaque layering (see the two images below).

Model from early 1966, section of the Major Hall outlooking the bay. Mullions here come down to the foyer floor.
Model from early 1966, North view from the harbour. 
A recent view of the last section model prepared under Utzon's supervision in 1966.
Was the last of Utzon's ideas for the glass walls feasible from a technical point of view? Jack Zunz, the engineer from Arups on site, always said no. If we apply the knowledge of our day to this plywood mullion concept the probable answer is once again negative. Because of a number of reasons: spans were huge, there was no lateral stifness, geometry was not solved yet (glass would have to assume a tri-dimensional surface), and it is doubtful that bonded plywood from the sixties would have resisted for a long term in a maritime environment.

In any case the question above is irrelevant. The new Australian government was willing to get rid of Utzon and minister for Public Works David Hughes refused to approve the plywood mock-ups for the auditoria ceilings. This, among other issues, forced Utzon to present a letter temporarily withdrawing as the Opera House architect on 28 February 1966, resignation that was immediately accepted. A new period was about to start for the glass walls design, now and forever beyond Utzon's command.

Final design Stage III - rethinking the glass walls
On April 1966, minister Hughes announced the three new architects appointed to complete the Opera House: Peter Hall, 34, design architect; Lionel Todd, 36, supervision; and David Littlemore, 55, documents. Ove Arup and Partners would remain as project and site engineers.

Stage I of the works, including the steps, concourse and platforms had finished in January 1963. Nine months after Hall, Todd and Littlemore had taken charge, in January 1967 the last tile lid was lowered into position and the roof shells - including their cladding - were complete, ending the Stage II of the works.

When they took over the design development of Stage III, Hall, Todd and Littlemore were to be busy with two questions : the seating capacity of the Opera Hall (later downgraded into a Concert Hall due to lack of space) and acoustics. More than two years after the new architects had taken charge the government approved the new programme, and site work on Stage III commenced in 1969.

Code names for the different glass walls designed between 1967 and 1970. Image taken from Harry Sowden, 'Sydney Opera House glass walls', published in 1972.

The concept of the scheme finally selected for the glass walls by Peter Hall with assistance of the Arups team, a continuous glass surface enclosing a steel structure, dates from mid-1967. This concept was developed for more than two years and involved much research into a wide range of façade materials and techniques.

It is quite easy to undervalue the work taken by Peter Hall and the team of architects and engineers that were to finish the Opera House after Utzon's dismissal. I find that a very unfair position, at least for the glass walls part. As David Croft, Arups design engineer dealing with the glass walls development would say at the time:
"The glass walls are an epitome of the problems of the whole of the Opera House (...). Every day I find it more complicated than it was before. The more you do the more there is to do"
Michael Lewis' hands drawing the glass walls in the air, and David Croft at his office on site. 
The last part of this post will demonstrate up to what point the final glass walls solution owes to the previous concepts designed by Utzon and where it departs from those to make the whole thing possible. I have based my information on two sources, not easy to find today, both bearing the same name: 'The Sydney Opera House glass walls'. The first is a paper written by David Croft and John Hooper, engineers from Arup, published at The Arup Journal in October 1973. The second is a book written by photographer Harry Sowden with contributions from Peter Hall, David Croft, John Hooper, Bob Kelman and Michael Lewis, all engineers from Ove Arup and Partners on site, and self-published in 1972. Most of the black and white images shown from here below come from this book.

The three buildings as built, looking south: Restaurant (left), Concert Hall and Theatre Hall. 

Theatre Hall: southern glass wall seen from bottom up.
Providing the final concept
Despite much technical discussion, investigation and studies, no detailed technical solutions were available for the glass walls at the time of Utzon's dismissal from the project in February 1966. But at least the architect's requirements could be clearly identified as follows:
  1. All the glass walls throughout the Opera House are to be read as one family, with a similar structural layout.
  2. The structure shall be as clean as possible, with bracing kept to a minimum if not eliminated.
  3. The mullions shall not be read as supporting the shells: the glass walls shall look as hanging from the shells instead.
  4. Mullions shall be as thin, continuous fins throughout the glass walls.
  5. Below the roofs there shall be as little visual obstruction as possible.
  6. The mullion frames shall be constructed as a series of constant-section units, marking by their position a continuously varying shape across the width of the glass walls.
Peter Hall from Hall, Todd and Littlemore begun working in the glass walls at the beginning of 1967. The material favoured by Hall for the mullions (probably with some positive comments from the Arup engineering team) was steel instead of plywood. But this still required a different material or protection for the outer side of the mullions, exposed to maritime conditions. Concrete was investigated but with unacceptable aesthetic results. The time had come to review the whole philosophy of the glass walls. This was done via a workshop at the London office of Ove Arup & Partners. Peter Hall was there from the architects, and Jack Junz, Michael Lewis and Yuzo Mikami from Arups, with some participation from Ove Arup himself.

From left to right: Michael Lewis, Ove Arup and Jack Zunz on site during Stage II construction.

Point 3 above presented a key isue to solve: because of the differing geometry of the roof and podium structures the mullions had to be bent outwards in vertical section, thus achieving a usable plan area at the bottom, greater than that covered by the shells. And to make the mullions look like hanging from the shells it was necessary that they were effectively fixed at their top edge and then fall in vertical down to a certain point. This lead to a geometry for the two most complex walls, those overlooking the harbour at the Concert and Theatre Halls (A4 and B4 respectively, see above plan with name indications), that would be the combination of a cylinder and two cones, all with their axis located in one same vertical line. See the image and picture below for clarity. 
The final geometry of glass walls A4 and B4 (those overlooking the bay at north elevation)

The top part of the glass wall belongs to a cylinder, it then intersects with an inclined cone, and this one intersects again with a lower cone, resulting in an opening-out section as it moves down.

Northern glass walls as built: B4 to the left (Theatre) and A4 to the right (Concert Hall).

New principles incorporating some of the ideals expressed by Utzon were developed and refined. The choice of material, method of fixing and sealing, all required solutions which had to be worked out from first principles. The task of fitting a suitable glass wall shape into an already completed structure without any plane surfaces demanded much study and effort. Many proposals were tried and rejected throughout the design period, which lasted from September 1967 to May 1971. But in the end the glass walls were eventually built.

Glass wall A4 (north Concert Hall). Elevation with and without glass.

Glass wall A4. Plan with and without glass. Notice the horizontal bracing at the central axis.
Glass walls A4 and B4
With an agreed concept, the detailed desig of the glass walls was carried out in parallel with their construction. Design work was initially concentrated on wall A4, bearing in mind that the details as they evolved would also have to apply to the other walls.

Glass wall A4. Side elevation
The choice of glass was a chapter in itself. The main requirement was for a safety glass that could be cut to shape on site. Toughened glass was thus rejected and laminated glass was chosen. At that time these was little information available to the use of laminated glass in buildings, so a research and testing programme was put in place. The laminate finally selected consists on a 12mm layer of clear plate or float glass and a 6mm layer of bronze tinted glass, bonded together with a 0.76mm double interlayer of clear polyvinyl butyral. The intention was to avoid the image of 'green glass' that would have come out if 18mm clear laminated had been selected, plus the advantage of solar shading provided by tinted glass in the highly exposed north orientations.

Pot-cast glass (left) and float glass (right): manufacturing the two lites of the laminated piece.

The precise tint (called demi-topaze) was created by a glass supplier in France and applied through a process named pot-casting, then the 6mm tinted lite was laminated to a 12mm clear lite in a different factory near Paris and finally the laminated was pre-cut and shipped to Sydney. The maximum sheet size required on site was approximately 4.0m by 2.1m.

Glass sheets size (left, wall A4) and example of a cutting list made in 1970

Glass support system
In the main surfaces each glass sheet is supported along its two 'vertical' sides by glazing bars, and the top and bottom horizontal joints are filled with silicone rubber sealant. The glazing bars were extruded from manganese bronze and in their standard form consist of a T-section and a cover piece screwed on after the final positioning of the glass. The combined sections act together as an I-section. The glazing bars follow the lines of the structural mullions inside and each glass sheet is held vertically by two steel pins projecting from the flage of the T-piece.

Glass fixing bracket conecting the T-shape (upper right) to the steel mullion (bottom right)

The glazing bars are attached to the structure by means of fixing brackets at roughly 0.9m centres. These brackets had to be adjustable to accomodate the geometrical variations in angle and distance between structural mullion and glass. The fixing proved to be quite a complex piece of machinery and advice was sought from the aircraft industry. The design was developed in conjunction with Hawker de Havilland Pty and the 2,300 plus fixings were manufactured by them. The material used was aluminium bronze which offered strength together with resistance to corrosion and fatigue.

The mullion structure
Steel was chosen for the main mullion structure on account of its strenght and stiffness. The standard mullions were fabricated from two parallel 90mm diameter tubes at 530mm centres joined by a 6mm plate web. This section had the advantage that the geometry could be solved along the centre line of the outer chord and standard connection details could be developed that would apply to the whole range of orientations that would occur.

Mullion and glass structural details as built, Sydney Opera House.

One of the critical details of each of the walls was the method of connecting the mullions to the shells at their top edge. The position of cables in the pre-stressed ribs prohibited any form of drilling into the rib to make a fixing. Luckily, during the design of the shells certain ribs had been chosen to support the glass walls, which were strengthened and had extra holes cast into them. These holes did not coincide with the position of the mullions and it as therefore decided to cast on to the rib a strip of in situ concrete.

Mullions top fixing to the corbels, and installation of ties between mullions.

No two corbels are identical, nor is the interval between corbels constant, and in situ concrete was therefore the most suitable material.

Process of fixing mullions on site with scaffoldings. A4 wall.

Coonection between top and bottom mullion
The mullions were fabricated in two sections, one for the top cylinder, the other for the upper and lower cones. The upper sections are bolted to the corbels and tied back at the bottom by struts to the rear wall of the auditorium. The lower sections are bolted to the upper sections and are supported at the lower end by trusses suported, in turn, by V-colums on the podium.

The result of this process was to liberate a wide inner space at the floor level, both at the entrance and at the back side of the auditoria, thus providing a much required space for internal circulation, as can be seen in the image below. I am still impressed with the lightness of the structural concept considering the large spans and the loads. A real feat!

The foyer at A4 (Concert Hall) seen from inside. The V-columns support a line of flat edge trusses where the mullions sit.

Sealing and waterproofing - more problems
There is no space here to detail the research conducted by John Hooper from Arup on laminated glass under sustained load, the geometrical calculations and structural analysis using computer programmes - the first ones on facade elements that I have notice - or the clever method devised for shaping laminated glass sheets to fit the varied dimensions. All this can be read at the Arup Journal article from October 1973.

My last note will be on a nowadays quite standard detail, silicone sealing, that was rather new at the time and created much confusion when problems arose during glass installation. With much of the glass inclined to the almost horizontal and located above public spaces, it was particularly important that the walls should be completely watertight. Use of the best available type of sealant was essential, and silicone rubber by Rhône-Poulenc (translucent type) was selected for this purpose.

Installing glass with suction cups and a crane. 
The choice of silicone rubber was really dictated by the presence of the horizontal glass-to-glass butt joints. These joints are directly exposed to the atmosphere and silicone rubber, besides having an excellent adhesion to glass, has a high resistance to ultra-violet radiation and other weathering agents.

Silicone rubber, being a one-part sealant, is relatively easy to apply; compressed air guns were used on site as the image below shows. However, it is crucial that the substrates have to be cleaned and prepared to quite stringent standards.

Silicone being applied to the extruded bronze T-joint before installation of the glazing bar.

Approximately a month after the first sealing was complete in the A4 wall, it was noticed that the sealant was separating from the bronze glazing bar. The most likely reason appeared to be poor preparation of the bronze work, or atmospheric contamination prior to sealing. The faulty material was cut out, a series of site tests conducted and the areas resealed. It soon became evident that the problem was much more serious than anticipated: it was almost impossible to achieve a permanent adhesion of silicone to bronze which could withstand water immersion.

The manufacturers were consulted, other primers were tested and gradually a successful technique was evolved. The problem appeared to be that the silicone joint as designed was too deep in relation to its width. The volume of silicone on the joint was excessive in relation to the free surface area from which acetic acid - generated during the curing - could disperse. The acetic acid was able to attack the bronze through the primer, and the product of this action dissolved out when the joint was immersed.

Cleaning and protecting the joints from dust prior to silicone sealing.
The cross section of the joint was changed to allow a greater surface area of sealant relative to the volume, to facilitate dispersion of acetic acid, and the method of clamping the cover strip down on to the sealant was introduced. More time also had to be allowed for curing of the primers before the silicone was applied and much more time given for the silicone to cure and the generated acetic acid to disperse, before the cover strip was placed.

It also proved important to protect the joint from water until curing was complete. To do this, strips of polythene were sealed down to the glass, covering the joint, and they remained there until the scaffolding was removed. The joint as finally perfected remained watertight, quite independently of adhesion between silicone and bronze, as initially expected...

Final code
My intention when I started this long post was to answer a number of questions. The answers should be clear by now:

  • Are the glazed walls at least partly Utzonian? Yes they are: a look at the competition section from 1956 is not too dissimilar to the final design, and Utzon's main requirements were met by Peter Hall and his team. 
  • Who were their designers? A bunch of architects and engineers, but the main credits should go to Hall, Lewis, Croft and Hooper. 
  • Was it a smooth process or was it another nightmare within the general conundrum of the job? Croft provided an accurate answer for this, quoted above. 
  • And finally, is there anything we can learn from the Sydney Opera House glass walls? Our old man, Ove Arup, provided a general answer that fits here perfectly well: "We have realised that only intimate integration of the various parts or the various disciplines will produce the desired results". Amen.

Ove Arup
As usual in these posts, a last paragraph should go to leave track of the suppliers, manufacturers and contractors involved in the building of the Sydney Opera House glass walls. Here they are:

  • Main contractor, M. R. Hornibrook Pty Ltd. 
  • Steelwork for the glass walls, J. W. Broomhead Pty Ltd. 
  • Metalwork and installation, Permasteel Pty Ltd. (yes, these are the guys that later would join the Italian company Isa to become the world-known façade contractor Permasteelisa). 
  • Fixings, Hawker de Havilland Pty Ltd. 
  • Sawing machinery and glass handling equipment, Quick-steel Engineering Pty Ltd. 
  • Glass cutting and installation, VASOB Glass Pty Ltd. 
  • Bronze extrussions supply: Austral Bronze Crane Copper Pty Ltd. 
  • Glass supply, Boussois Souchon Neuvesel + Société Industrielle Triplex. 
  • Sealant: Rhône-Poulenc.


If all suppliers and installers kept their contribution to the construction of the Sydney Opera House with great pride, Permasteelisa is probably the company that took it more deeply. Their company logo (left) is a schematic elevation of the A4 gable end. Massimo Colomban from Permasteelisa likes to mention the new technologies applied in large scale in this job for the first time. He is probably right on two of them: these were the first large suspended glass walls and laminated glass was used here in large - and in deep - for the first time. Colomban adds that this was also the first example of extended use of structural silicon glazing. This is not right as we have seen; glass is mechanically fixed at the large sides and it is bottom supported on pins. He probably has been told about the conundrum of the silicone application and how some lessons were taken from it; but complex as it came out this was just weatherproof sealing, not structural sealing.

I can't resist the temptation of adding a selection of images about the details, construction or final impression of the glass walls, that I found interesting but have not been able to place in the text above. Here they are.

Installing the inclined glass pieces overlooking the harbour at A4. 1972.

Aerial view of B4 (left) and A4 (right) glass walls almost finished. 1972.
A4 from inside. Glass was already installed when the picture was taken.
A4 from inside. Total transparency, no transoms.
South side: connection between the glass wall and the ribs.
Nose detail between the almost flat glass roof and the bottom glazed strip. Restaurant.
Sill detail, infill glass wall to sides or bottom of shells





























































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Longitudinal section through Concert Hall. A4 to the left, A1 to the right.
Longitudinal section through Theatre Hall. B4 to the letf, B1 to the right.
West elevation of Concert Hall. All the black areas are glass walls.
North elevation of the Theatre (left) and Concert (right) Halls.
Foyer at the North side of the Theatre Hall.
The restaurant seen from the concourse.
The side walls of the Concert Hall.
Restaurant, Concert Hall and Theatre Hall at night.
Theatre Hall at sunset.