Santiago Calatrava The Complete Works

By Alexander Tzonis Rizzoli International, 2004, 432 pp., hardcover $75. From Athens to Zurich, to Bilbao, to Milwaukee, structures designed by Santiago Calatrava have been inspiring awe among citizens of the world for nearly 20 years. The Spanish-born architect-engineer’s bridges, towers, and other creations — often gleaming white — appear to leap or stretch or flex their wings like birds flying into the sky. Calatrava fashions his structures in metal, concrete, and other weighty materials, yet they seem alive and remarkably light — quite an accomplishment in an era when so many engineering projects are leaden and earthbound. Alexander Tzonis’s large-format book does a superb job of not only cataloging Calatrava’s works but also explaining how the 53-year-old designer has achieved such beautiful, fresh results. Hundreds of striking color photos, sketches, paintings, and other illustrations show how the Valencia native builds structures that on the one hand are original and dynamic and on the other hand are usually well-fitted to their surroundings. Calatrava understands that to be successful, a structure must achieve many goals — social and cultural as well as architectonic. He once told Washington Post architecture critic Benjamin Forgey that the beauty of a bridge comes from “the way the bridge helps to integrate a city, the way it celebrates the act of crossing, the way it contributes to the proudness of the people in a city.” Tzonis, a professor of architectural theory at the Delft University of Technology, The Netherlands, notes that during Calatrava’s schooling, which encompassed urban planning as well as architecture and engineering, the young designer meticulously analyzed how “space frames” can fold and change shape. He has since used that knowledge to design structures that look as if they might move — and that sometimes actually do. His celebrated addition to the Milwaukee Art Museum features two large wing-like elements (weighing 115 tons) that appear ready to fly over Lake Michigan but which can fold down when the wind reaches 40 miles an hour. Calatrava seems to me to embody the best traits of Eero Saarinen, the American architect who died in 1961, and of Pier Luigi Nervi, the great Italian architect-engineer who died in 1979. He exhibits a flair for strong curves and other potent forms that stir the emotions. Yet his modern engineered forms are not hostile to the historic settings in which many of them find their homes. John Norquist, who as mayor welcomed Calatrava to Milwaukee, observes, “Calatrava designs to fit urban context. He properly terminates vistas and aligns buildings with street grids. This sets him apart from most other AIA Gold Medal winners.” In light of Calatrava’s sculptural design for the World Trade Center Transportation Hub in New York — which has received rave reviews but which seems to compound the convolutions of the Trade Center redevelopment plan — I wish Tzonis had delved further into Calatrava’s thoughts about regularly bounded outdoor spaces and physical order. But this is a quibble. The Complete Works gives readers a clear and insightful account of a designer who now strides the world stage with exceptional grace. P.L.