Bauhaus and Beyond

Bauhaus and Beyond: More Buildings, History, and Neighborhoods in Two Parts

I’ve learned a lot from two architectural walking tours, one rambling up and down Rothschild Blvd. and the other covering the Tel Aviv University campus. While the information the guide shares may just be the tip of the iceberg (and there’s probably a particular slant--some things included and others omitted), the tours are interesting nevertheless.

Part One: Bauhaus Tour on Rothschild

Yona, our guide for the Bauhaus tour, spoke with a South African inflected accent but has lived in Tel Aviv for over forty years. She conveyed her love for the city and embellished her narration with a portfolio of historical photos. Here are some of the stories she told:

One hundred years ago, a Polish watchmaker bought land on the sand dunes north of Jaffa and convinced 66 families (some responding to ads in European newspapers) to become pioneers in what became the first modern Jewish city. Eager to escape cholera-infested Jaffa, they gathered on the beach where each selected a grey pebble and a white pebble—the family name on one, a lot number on the other-- a method the clockmaker devised to avoid argument over who got which spot. The watchmaker invented a special wheelbarrow used by a brigade of men, women, and children to fill in the wadi (a ravine carved by waters rushing to the sea) to create Rothschild Blvd. Edmund Rothschild, the Jewish banker and philanthropist, had no connection to the project but, as our tour guide suggested, perhaps the founders thought that by according him this honor they might encourage a donation. The houses, built in a hodge-podge of mainly European styles, were surrounded by gardens. They served as oases for the families while the men commuted to Jaffo where the shops and jobs were located. A precursor of hundreds to come, a kiosk was built to sell beverages and snacks and serve as a meeting place. The water tower served double duty as a “jail”.

There was no specifically Jewish decoration on the homes except for an occasional Magen David star or menorah worked into the iron grille-work. One elaborate home, built by a wealthy European who hired a noted architect to create a design that incorporated an open roof for use during Succot, is currently being restored as a center for non-Israeli youth serving in the Israeli Defense Forces. In previous incarnations this beautiful two-story building housed a British school and, in the 1920’s, served as the Russian embassy for a brief time until an anti-communist protester bombed the kitchen.

The city expanded as the waves of Europeans and Yemenis made aliyah (“went up”) to the land. The streets and neighborhoods grew higgly-piggly with no particular plan. The main boulevards ran north-south rather than orienting towards the seafront where the factories and cemeteries, both Jewish and Muslim, were located. Visiting Tel Aviv in the 1920’s, Patrick Geddes, a famous Scottish town planner who had lived in Bombay, was struck by the lack of coherence and the fact that the city turned its back on the sea. Our guide imagined the city officials responding, “Nu, we didn’t come here to lie on the beach and turn from side to side.” Geddes created a plan for a garden city featuring a series of east-west boulevards and 60 neighborhood grids, each with a park at the center. Eventually the plan was adopted and the infrastructure was in place for the most important architectural influence in the city. The Bauhaus style, brought to Tel Aviv in the 1930’s by Walter Gropius and other Bauhaus-trained architects who were forced to flee Nazi Germany, created a “White City.” This modernist, unadorned style, adapted to fit the Mediterranean climate, was perfectly suited to the needs of the expanding population. The simple but elegant 2-4 story buildings, built out of white concrete, were both functional and inexpensive to build. The flat roofs created a social space for gatherings and laundry. The numerous small windows and stacked balconies with ventilation holes or horizontal strips allowed the sea breezes in and kept the hot sun out. The stairways were cooled by small windows that ran up the sides of the buildings like thermometers (I also think they look like zippers)—the higher you go, the hotter it gets. Other innovations included porthole windows, rounded facades that resemble the bow of a ship, and gunnels for the water to drain off the balconies when the floors are washed (watch out below!). A later adaptation raised the buildings on pillars, creating an open space at ground level for a garden and perhaps a pond (for the fish to enjoy before being cooked for the Shabbat meal).

New buildings erected en masse after WWII and later in the 1960’s to house the influx of refugees were undistinguished, and, in fact, downright ugly. I read an article in the Jerusalem Post (“Balcony Scene” by Aviva Lori) that described how the look of the neighborhoods changed over the years. The need for more space in cramped apartments, as well as the desire to escape flies and street noise, led many families to close in their balconies in haphazard fashion, ruining the symmetry of the architecture. In 1934 mayor Meir Dizingoff called the balcony, “the smile of the building.” Now the smile was hidden behind cloths, curtains or more substantial edifices. This practice accelerated when, in 1957, an Israeli engineer invented an accordion shutter (made out of asbestos!) that could be pulled closed or left open. Although disputes with the city over balcony enclosures had been going on since the early days, the conflict really heated up in 1978 when officials ruled that balcony enclosures had to be uniform throughout a building, creating a truly ugly façade. Finally in 1992 a law was passed that said that the closed, covered balcony space would be counted as part of an apartment’s living space, upping the cost and thus discouraging the practice. Builders began putting up apartments with staggered balconies that were much more difficult to enclose but were decried as hideous by many. In response, architects and planners lobbied for a plan to restore stacked balconies; last year a new regulation came out that allows up to 14 square meters for a covered balcony that won’t be considered part of the dwelling. Meanwhile, balconies have served many social purposes—people sat out in their undershirts and played cards, visited, called out to one another from the street, and so on. Today you see a lot of laundry, chairs, bicycles and even kayaks hanging from the railings.

Tel Aviv had the largest, most consistent collection of Bauhaus buildings anywhere in the world. Unfortunately, over the years many buildings fell into disrepair. Out of 4000-5000 Bauhaus buildings only 1500-2000 of them remain in good enough condition to use or restore. In 2004 UNESCO declared Tel Aviv a heritage city, a designation that brings with it a host of regulations about how restoration should proceed. For example, one can extend to the back or side of a building but the façade as seen from the street has to remain as it originally looked. The city also requires tit for tat when it gives permission for new buildings. For example, a bank that wanted to erect a new skyscraper also had to restore an adjacent historical funeral home. In the past the city reasoned that if you were rich enough to build a house you must also plant a tree, while now sculptures may be added to enhance the street. The many beautiful trees lining the boulevard have created an unintended consequence: bats eat the fruit from the ficus trees and produce “sprutzen” which can’t be removed but only painted over. It’s always something!

Part Two: Tel Aviv U.

Francine Mallah, an elegant woman who looked to be in her 70’s, was my tour guide around Tel Aviv University. On campus every building, garden, courtyard, sculpture and so on is “named” for the donor whose contribution made it possible. As we passed the “Sam Mallah” grove of palm trees, Francine casually tossed out that he was her father. She spoke with an unusual accent, prompting me to ask where she was from. She said that she was from Marseille but that she spent most of her life in South America—Buenos Aires and Rio. Later in the tour she offhandedly revealed that she is the first cousin of President Sarkozy’s mother. A little digging on the internet provided more details: Their great-grandfather founded the rabbinical school in Thessaloniki, Greece. One of his eight sons, the grandfather of Francine and Mrs. Sarkozy, went to France and became a doctor. The doctor’s son, Francine’s father, became a financier in Buenos Aires. There must be many other Spanish speakers here because Friends of Tel Aviv University has a Spanish program in addition to the English series of lectures and classes.

The university is 50 years old and has 27,000 students. The first buildings, student dorms, were built with raw concrete in the Brutalism style (similar to the “turbine” high rise apartments in Netanya that I mentioned in an earlier post). In the 1960’s the mantra was functional and cheap. With no central air conditioning until the 1970’s, the architects used many of the techniques from Bauhaus days. The many small windows never face west and are shaded by overhangs, for example. Only one building on campus, however, is fully Bauhaus in style. All the others, designed by Israelis, incorporate more contemporary design features. There are only two campus buildings that were not designed by Israeli architects—one is by Louis Kahn and the other, a synagogue, by the Swiss architect, Mario Botta. The story of the synagogue is interesting. About 12 years ago, a wealthy Swiss visitor to campus, Mr. Cymbalista wanted to say kaddish on the anniversary of his father’s death. When told there was no synagogue on campus, he decided to donate the money to build one-- with a few conditions. He wanted it to be in a central space and he wanted to choose the architect. Both conditions were accepted. The beautiful result is strikingly different from other buildings on campus. It was constructed entirely from non-native materials. The two round towers are covered with stone from the Dolomite Mountains on the outside while the squared rooms inside—sanctuary and lecture hall—are lined with golden Tuscan stone. The ark is Pakistani marble. The non-Jewish architect had never been inside a synagogue. So as not to spoil the open and light feel of his design, he asked the chief rabbi what the least obtrusive requirement for the separation barrier between male and female worshippers could be. The result is a very thin black rail one meter high. Presumably, somebody complained about this because on one side there is Japanese style screen that blocks part of the women’s section more fully.

Many interesting and diverse pieces of sculpture dot the campus. I’m starting to recognize some of the artists from visits to the city’s museums and plazas. For example, a huge piece in the center of campus, called “Happening”, is by Igal Tumarken who also created a large sculpture in remembrance of the Holocaust that is located in Rabin plaza next to city hall. We saw several of his pieces in an exhibit called “Homage to Van Gogh” at the Rubin Museum last week (see Lew’s blog, www.halfshekel.blogspot.com). Another piece is by Pierre Arman, the artist who made the beautiful cutlery based on violin motifs that we saw at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. I wrote about this in an earlier post but I didn't mention the amazing wooden cabinet with hidden drawers at the back to hold the silverware, and another piece composed of pieces of a vertically sliced violin. The piece on campus has a similar feel with vertically stacked axes. I could go on but instead I’ll try to add some photos soon to show some examples. Up date: I added photos from Tel Aviv U.--the main plaza with dorms to the left, Francine in orange walking towards Tumarken sculpture, health/life sciences building, another view of Tumarken's "Happening" piece, Cymbalista Synagogue, Pierre Arman's axes, the only Bauhaus building on campus with red sculpture in background, Picasso like sculpture in front of Diaspora Museum. The other two photos of the bridal couple and the cat by the beach looking toward Jaffa go with a later post (Brides and Cats) but I haven't figured out how to move them yet.