As part of the Architecture of the United Africa Project I wanted to visit Banjul to investigate if there was any surviving buildings remaining from the UAC era. There was surprisingly little material in the UAC archive relating to the town and wider country – and we knew that the business focused its efforts elsewhere in West Africa. Despite this – there was a Kingsway Store, Palm Line Offices, and possibly several other European trading companies operating merchant stores, warehousing, wholesaling, and produce export businesses.
Kingsway StoresUAC warehousingPossibly African and Eastern Trading Corporation?
Banjul is a compact capital and we were able to quickly locate the old trading spots located around the Albert Market area. Here there are many traders importing fabric and textiles from China and India and it remains a thriving port. The Kingsway Stores and associated wholesaling lockups are still there, along with a series of other colonial period structures. Some of the older trading villas are now complete ruins and urgent documentation is required if rehabilitation isn’t possible.
Old Trading Store now ruined and overgrown
There are a number of Modern structures that we couldn’t identify, and some experimental architecture amongst the more restrained trading stores. There’s clearly a need for a mapping and documentation project to list and identify the history of these structures.
One of the highlights was the number of banking offices, including a design by Pierre Goudiaby (b 1947), the Senegalise architect responsible for Gambia’s airport, the National Theatre in Dakar, and the gigantic 49m tall African Renaissance Monument, also in Dakar.
Bank in Banjul by Pierre Goudiaby, 1985Banjul Airport, Pierre Goudiaby, 1997African Renaissance Monument, Pierre Goudiaby, 2008
The old university library was completed shortly after Independence and located at the terminus of a long ceremonial avenue that cuts through the campus. By the late 1990s further space was required for study and new book acquisitions, but rather than build an extension or separate block, the solution was to partially wrap the old library with new segments and entrance portico to create additional room and atriums. The older structure is still clearly visible (see the rectilinear mosaic elements) but these forms are now joined by more playful additions whilst observing the strict symmetry. The inverted scoop of the entrance portico references Corbusier’s Assembly at Chandigarh (and is similar to Wilford’s Lowry Centre in Salford), but here it runs perpendicular to the main building with a zig-zag motif on the exposed gable. The addition was designed by Tétreault Parent Languedoc and Oscar Afrique in 2001.
The flanks of the avenue include the University Conference centre buildings and the Archivist Department. On top of ornate red brick podiums, where the bricks are laid in soldier bond and proud of the building line, sit curved forms clad in sea shells that add subtle texture and shadow. The buildings were designed by Henri Chomette and Roland Depret in 1976.
A visit to the international conference centre in Dakar is a must for late ‘modern’ architecture aficionados. The approach sets the scene, as one passes through the triangular entrance gates.
A creation of architect Fernand Bonamy designed and built following an architectural competition in 1974 its triangular programme is clear from the outset. This trade fair complex, which remains in working use, was designed to incorporate the triangle both in elevation and functional section. This has been a largely successful exercise in which the triangle is pre-eminent in all aspects of design.
Walking around one feels the eerie nature of triangular space. Broken by long walkways with circular-cylindrical fulcrum points where the direction changes and the gradual slope continues upwards or downwards to the final traverse destination.
A series of exhibition pavilions are the centrepiece of this much recorded and photographed campus, whilst the main exhibition hall provides a glorious 70’s interior complete with psychedelic wall designs . The dogged following of the triangular programme does provide a coherent set of buildings – which also feel part of a giant Alice in Wonderland setting where the triangles are here there and everywhere. There are a few breaks as the HVAC external ductwork terminate in lozenge- and not triangular shaped flues .
As we walked around, the campus was being prepared for yet another exhibition / expo. This helps highlight the ongoing use and versatility of the exhibition space format, democratically giving each exhibitor the same space, shape and form to engage with, triangular in every way.
As I walk away from triangular wonderland I wonder what else this amazing set could support? A parkour and skate park for the suburban kids whose flats look down on the complex? A contained mini athletics course, it could certainly hold a 200m track circuit and many triangular spaces could provide storage for track and field equipment. Or could it indeed be a film set for the next James Bond Action or Hammer Horror movie – The return of the Triangles.
We’re making a visit into Dakar in Senegal this week. It’s mainly an exploratory trip as we’ve not ventured into Francophone Africa before and are eager to meet up with some architects here and friends from MOHOA .
Today was all about pounding the streets and exploring some of the everyday commercial architecture, public buildings, docklands, religious buildings, museums, and streetscapes of downtown Dakar. It didn’t disappoint and using our trusty Vol2 of the Sub-Saharan Africa guide we were quickly able to track down some of the classics (and many more that don’t feature in the impressive guide).
Chamber of Commerce, 1926.Kermel Market, 1910, Charles Pleyber
The Kermel market sits amongst an array of colonial era structures. It was destroyed by fire 1993, but rebuilt in 1997 to match the original design.
Dakar railway station with faience ceramic facade detailing. The newer interior structure provides control to the tracks and adds further commercial space.
Commercial structures, residences, markets, and banks by the docklands of Dakar. I thought the images top left and top middle were the Sandaga Market – but not sure now. There’s going to be a lot of further research and investigation required after this trip….
Museum of Black CivilisationGrand National Theatre, 2011, Pierre Goudiaby Atepa
Just beyond the Train Station are two vast civic structures – the National Theatre [the largest in Africa] and the Museum of Black Civilisation, built by the Shanghai Construction Group in 2018.
Institut d’Hygiène Sociale was a highlight today – designed by Henry Adenot around 1932 attempted to introduce more regional or local interpretations to the colonial architecture canon. This building has been described as Sudano-Sahelian but it borrows liberally from across Western African architecture, as well as introducing zig-zag motifs, sunbursts, and playful interiors.
Most of the downtown area it set out according to a grid plan, with buildings reaching 4 or 5 stories in height. There’s a variety of commercial structures some bearing the name of the old trading companies and families, others depicting bas relief decorative panels or double-skin solar breakers.
The latest edition of e-flux contains an interview with Joe Osae-Addo by Kwabena Appeaning Addo where they discuss Joe’s passively cooled house in Accra, Ghana.
Joe Osae-Addo in 2018 with architecture studentsInterior of Joe Osae-Addo’s house, AccraVerandah Exterior of the house with tree canopy, 2020
Kwabena Appeaning Addo: What inspired your design for the Inno-native House in Accra, Ghana?
Joe Osae-Addo: My first thought was “How do I create a building that responds to the weather better than most,” so that I don’t have to use air conditioning? That was my primary focus. I then began thinking about the landscape, about how trees can be used as the first line of defense against heat, and also about how to position a building so that there is no direct solar gain. I was working in Los Angeles at the time, and I learned that the worst heat comes not from the sun, but through conduction from the earth, through the floor slab. So I thought to raise the building by about a meter, removing all direct contact between the floors and the earth, and insulating the building with a pocket of air. Those were my design parameters.
KAA: What happened when you took those principles onto the building site?
JOA: The site and the climate drove the initial layout of the building. After pouring the raised foundation, the first thing I did was to plant mature trees. I didn’t want to plant seedlings, because I wanted the trees to cover the roof by the time construction was done. So, I took a drive out of Accra to the area between Tema and Shai Hills, where there is a natural forest of trees. I went on a rainy day when the soil was wet, with a truck and laborers, and dug out mature—but not fully grown—trees, approximately three meters tall. We brought them back and planted them immediately. A year later, when the house was done, the trees had fully grown in. The ground also had a high water table, so I planted papyrus plants, knowing that they would suck up water. But even so, the site is very wet. On a rainy day, the concrete walkway in front of the house gets wet both from above and below. For the driveway, I used gravel, not concrete, to allow water to flow through and absorb into the ground when it rains. The landscape was integral to the design from the beginning. It is what allowed me to create a cool building.
KAA: What about in the design of the building itself?
JOA: Glass louvres are typically undervalued in contemporary Ghanaian architecture, but they are fantastic at creating cross-ventilation. Many of the exterior walls include glass louvers, at times from floor to ceiling. The rest are made either of laterite blocks or of timber frame walls joined with a tongue and groove system. The interiors of these wood walls are covered with stucco plaster, which makes it feels like a typical cement block wall, but on the outside it is clearly wood. This construction technique, known as Type V construction, is how most buildings in California are built: a 2×4 timber stud frame, 24 inches on center. In my case, however, since there is no air conditioning, there is no need for insulation. The third type of wall in the house, which I am very proud of, is made of wooden slats with a mosquito net attached. The wooden slats have a half-inch gap between them so that air can come through, but because of the net, insects can’t. The interiors are therefore always aerated.
KAA: So does it work?
JOA: Yes, it works! If we had air conditioning, the timber studs would let out so much cold. But because the diurnal temperature variation in Ghana is not significant, designing for cross ventilation works so much better.
KAA: Can you further explain how the walls were designed?
JOA: At the entrance, for example, there is a wall that looks like it is painted concrete block, but it’s actually just plastered. To do this, we placed half-inch plywood against the timber studs, and then placed chicken-wire mesh over the plywood as the support for the plaster.
KAA: So on the inside, it looks like a normal wall, but on the outside, it has a wooden finish. What is it like to maintain the house?
JOA: Well, I haven’t touched it in twenty years.
KAA: Really?
JOA: Well, there was some damage to the surface of the wood deck in the back, but that was because of poor detailing—I shouldn’t have used galvanized nails, which can rust and rot the wood. I haven’t had to repair any of the vertical surfaces.
KAA: That means that it must have been really well constructed.
JOA: Yes, it was. I built it myself, so I made sure everything was right.
KAA: It also means that the wood was treated very well.
JOA: At that time in Ghana, kiln-dried wood wasn’t available. All of the wood we used had to be air dried, so I picked the hardest wood available, which was called “Odanta,” or iron wood. It’s expensive, but I knew that maintenance would be a big issue if we did not use quality wood.
KAA: Does the fact that it doesn’t touch the ground also help?
JOA: Yes! Termites are often an issue if you use wood in Ghana, but this was solved by elevating the building off the ground.
KAA: At the Presbyterian Boys’ Secondary School I went to, some of the teachers’ bungalows were made of wood and they sat on the ground, so I can attest to this! Can you speak further about the laterite walls?
JOA: The laterite walls are composed of compressed earth blocks. I made the blocks myself with the standard cement block formwork. They are stacked and kept together using cement mortar joints, and then finished with stucco. To make the render, we filtered laterite through a sieve to get the finest particles, and added a bit of cement and water. After it dried, we applied clear masonry sealer to protect it from the rain. This generally works, but direct rain can still create damage. So I placed some vertical and horizontal wooden fins on the balcony, so that water does not hit the building directly.
KAA: Is there any benefit to using laterite blocks over sandcrete, which is more typical in Ghana?
JOA: I don’t know the physics of it, but sandcrete seems to conduct more heat than laterite.
KAA: In the middle of the living and dining space, the roof material changes to a translucent acrylic panel. Why is that?
JOA: I wanted to bring in some light. Most of the roof is made of long span corrugated metal, so it serves as a kind of skylight. I didn’t use Perspex because over time it would melt. This is about twenty-years old, and it’s still in perfect shape. Though it occasionally needs cleaning from above to make sure the light doesn’t get too blocked.
KAA: What about the floors?
JOA: The house has polished concrete floors. But the flooring is actually timber, because the house is raised. At the bottom is the timber frame, then, on top of that, plywood, then roofing felt, then chicken wire, and finally concrete, which is primarily made of quarry dust to get as smooth of a finish as possible.
KAA: I also noticed that the kitchen and dining room are lower than the rest of the spaces.
JOA: Yes, they are lower because I was following the topography of the site, which slopes downward. If they were kept at the same level, it would have been very inefficient. Besides, it makes for a nice transition from living room to dining area.
KAA: What about the spatial organization of the rooms?
JOA: Well, the house has no corridors. So you either move from room to room, or use the wraparound deck to avoid disturbing people in adjacent rooms. The reason for this is that when you have an interior corridor, it is difficult to maximize cross ventilation.
KAA: What were some of the challenges with the project?
JOA: Well, one challenge was finding the right carpenters. In Ghana, we don’t often use wood to construct buildings, so getting workers to understand the details and the drawings was difficult.
KAA: How did you address this?
JOA: I wanted to complete everything in twelve months. Since the laborers and artisans were getting paid a daily rate, the longer the process lasted, the more I would have to pay. But since I was the contractor, I could set up systems to speed construction. After we built two bays of columns, for instance, the carpenters I hired to build the timber frames started prefabricating columns, so that we could erect them whenever we needed them. After a certain point, the process of construction became one of assembly.
KAA: Based on your experience, what advice would you give someone who wanted to create a similar design?
JOA: Designers need to make sure that they’re not putting materials in places where they’re going to be compromised very quickly. And, in general, the use of metal should be avoided. Rust is a big issue, particularly in coastal zones. The marine air is corrosive. I used louvres with plastic frames because the metal would have rusted by now. And if you use wood, after it rains, it should be cleaned. No matter how high quality the wood you use is, keeping it dry is best.
Charles Eric Wilkinson, late 1940s in British Guiana. Source: Michelle Joan Wilkinson.
My grandfather, Charles Eric Wilkinson, was a black architect-builder involved in major government-sponsored building and infrastructure projects in British Guiana from the 1930s to the 1970s. I place Wilkinson’s built work and its surviving archive of bookkeeping ledgers, letters, photographs, and architectural drawings in conversation with material from national archives in Guyana and England, adding oral histories from family members. White architects stationed in British Guiana and the Caribbean reported back to England about the “skilled craftsmen” (carpenters and building contractors) that they observed. Based on family lore and archives, I question the interactions between the supposed foreign “expert” architects and the local builders, seeking to document this period more accurately through architectural work that has remained in the shadows.
Wilkinson’s concrete house in the late 1950s, before he added a concrete fence and bridge from the front yard. Source: Michelle Joan Wilkinson.
The backdrop to my research is the rise of foreign-aided, self-help building schemes in British Guiana in 1954, the same year that Wilkinson endeavored to build a concrete house for his family. British and US architects were involved in British Guiana’s planning and housing development work. Howard Mackey, a Black American professor at Howard University, was on a team contributing to the self-help project. This period of Britain transitioning its so-called dependencies to self-sufficiencies provides an important context for understanding the role that black builders would play in shaping the built environment of the (independent) nation to come.
Gifted buildings are potent mechanisms of geopolitical reshuffling, premised on an uneven power relation between giver and receiver. How do such exchanges shape cities in transition?
Frances Richard: You have been working for several years on ideas of the architectural gift, and have realized this research in a number of projects. To cite a few: an exhibition you’ve co-organized with Damjan Kokalevski called “The Gift: Stories of Generosity and Violence in Architecture” recently opened at the Architectural Museum in Munich. In 2022, you were convener for a conference at the British Academy titled “The Gift of Architecture: Spaces of Global Socialism and Their Afterlives.” And your 2020 monograph Architecture in Global Socialism: Eastern Europe, West Africa, and the Middle East in the Cold War explores issues of international largesse and exchange — what you call “socialist worldmaking.”
Housing project for Libya, designed by Romproiect (Romania), 1980s. The design and construction of buildings such as this were typically subject to barter agreements. [Arhivele Naţionale ale României, f. Romproiect, 7288]
A focus on architectural gift-giving affords new ways of thinking about the worldwide processes triggered by capitalist industrialization and colonial exploitation.
Would you talk about the parameters and findings of this research? What is the architectural gift, as exemplified in what kinds of sites? Why has the inquiry followed the trajectories it has?
Łukasz Stanek: Architectural gift-giving is embedded in a long tradition of imperial and religious donations of buildings. But my collaborators and I have been interested in its relationship to modern urbanism; in how a focus on architectural gift-giving affords new ways of thinking about the worldwide processes triggered by capitalist industrialization and colonial exploitation since the 18th century. In my book, the temporal frame is more restricted: I studied Cold War collaborations — often unequal — between architects, planners, and construction companies from socialist countries in Eastern Europe, and their counterparts in West Africa and the Middle East. The movement of labor, blueprints, and construction materials and technologies across these geographies shaped cities such as Accra, Lagos, Baghdad, Abu Dhabi, Kuwait City, and many others, from the 1950s to the 1980s. Gifted buildings were among the most visible interventions by means of which the Soviet Union, China, and other socialist countries both supported the newly independent countries, and hoped to achieve political leverage and economic gains. To cite a few examples: the National Assembly Building in Conakry, a Chinese gift to Guinea; the Kikwajuni housing district in Zanzibar, an East German gift; or the House of Culture and Youth Theatre Complex in Darkhan, a Soviet gift to Mongolia.
The architectural style was developed specifically for tropical climates, so its key design consideration was optimal ventilation and minimal solar heat gain. Elaborate building forms and abstract ornamentation later became characteristic of the style.
Although the movement began with colonial architects after the second world war, it was redefined by newly independent nations of the 20th century, who wanted to create an identity detached from their colonial past. The V&A exhibition spotlights India and Ghana’s nation-building projects following their independence from Britain in 1947 and 1957 respectively.
It begins with the early work of British architects Maxwell Fry and Jane Drew in Ghana. Until a few decades ago, European and colonial architects’ designs dominated the historical narrative of tropical modernism. This narrow viewpoint is currently contested and extensive research on post-independence architecture and non-European architects is being conducted.
The V&A exhibition attempts to redress this Euro-centric story. It centres around the lesser known architects whose input has been historically overlooked or erased. It celebrates their contributions to tropical modernism and the impact of independence projects on local architectural education.
The architecture of a new nation
Chandigarh, a planning project for Punjab’s new capital after India’s partition, is one of the architectural works featured in the exhibition. The city is a famous example of 20th-century modern architecture and urban planning. It was led by European architects Le Corbusier, Pierre Jeanneret, Maxwell Fry and Jane Drew.
Works by these Indian architects are on display in the V&A show. There’s Eulie Chowdhury’s Chandigarh chair which was co-designed with Pierre Jenneret, Jeet Malhotra’s photographs of the city under construction and Giani Rattan Singh’s wooden model of the Legislative Assembly.
These architects were on the design team for the Capitol Complex, which comprised grand administrative buildings and monuments. The buildings were exposed concrete structures with sculpture-like forms and deep concrete louvres (slats that control sunlight entering a building).
Once dominated by British colonial architects, Ghana’s building industry expanded post-independence to include architects from Africa, the African diaspora, and Eastern Europe. Victor Adegbite, a Ghanaian architect, oversaw several public works as head of the country’s housing and construction corporations. He led the team for the building, popularly called Job 600, which was constructed to host the Organisation of African Unity Conference in 1965.
Ghana’s Africanisation policies (intended to increase the population of Africans in corporate and government positions) influenced the founding of the architecture department at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology (KNUST).
The department began by recruiting educators from Britain and around the world. On display is a student-made geodesic dome (lightweight shell structure with load-bearing properties), which was constructed during a teaching programme with American designer Buckminster Fuller.
Among the staff were Ghanaian architects like John Owusu Addo – the first African head of department. He designed new buildings for the university most notably the Senior Staff Club and Unity student hall included in the exhibition. The hall’s nine-storey blocks combine exterior and interior corridors to improve indoor ventilation.
The many dimensions of tropical modernism
Exhibitions like this are important because they educate the public on the strides made by academic institutions and cultural organisations in rewriting the history of tropical modernism.
V&A’s collaboration with the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology and Chandigarh College of Architecture was integral to the exhibition. However, the show only briefly addresses the contemporary issues of conservation, sustainability and the alternative histories of the style.
Institutions and organisations are now pushing for the conservation of tropical modernism in Asia and Africa. Although monuments like Chandigarh Capitol Complex, have attained heritage status, many are in decline, repurposed or at risk of demolition.
In India for example, the Hall of Nations, a group of pyramidal exhibition halls, was demolished in 2017. Social media platforms like Postbox Ghana and international collaborations like Docomomo International and Shared Heritage Africa project centre the African experience in documenting and reviving public interest in tropical modernism.
Unlike the architects and the experts celebrated in this exhibition, construction labourers are not as visible in historical sources because they were often unrecorded. Oral history’s ability to fill this gap diminishes with time, but we have a duty to avoid repeating the same erasure and omissions of the past. The legacy of tropical modernism is incomplete without addressing the contributions made by both professionals and labourers alike.
Timothy Latim: Reflections on Kigali writing workshop
Context
I was invited to the one week writing workshop as a guest mentor to discuss with the students of architecture, how photography can be used to support architectural writing and design. The workshop held at the University of Rwanda was in close proximity to three of the buildings being studied and I got a chance to visit and discuss the buildings with the students.
First Impressions
Kigali is coined as the city of a thousand hills. An apt description of it. Standing at any one hill one observes the landscape unfolding, the undulating hills reveal themselves in layers to the observer. While it serves as an incredible sight, the topography is also a major influence in the design and development of Kigali. The varying layers of landscape can as a metaphor to the influence that the city has had over its history. This is apparent in the diversity of essays and research topics presented by the students. A broad reflection would categories these into three main ideas in regards to time. Colonial history, contemporary influence and ambitions of the city.
Historical – Colonial influences.
The influence on Rwanda predates the shadow of genocide. Into the realm of both native history and colonial influences. A guided tour and with the student to the Administration Building reveals an interesting dialogue between the architectural influences from the Belgium in the design and construction of the building. These were noted to be the fair faced used of materials in construction. While changes in the dynamics of Rwanda socially and politically influenced the use of the Administration building over time, from the use by military all the way to a university campus. Similar traces of the Belgium influence can be found all around the Univeristy. Which was interesting to being to unravel alongside the students.
Administration block University of Rwanda
Contemporary influences.
Completed in 2014 by Kigali by FBW Group. The Library complex serves an example of a contemporary building. A reflection of the trends and issues currently being resolved by the architecture fraternity. The use of form in the composition of the building. A conscious effort to design the building to be passive in regards to heating and cooling. And the use of locally available materials to clad the building.
Library college of science and technology, University of Rwanda
The School of Architecture, serves as an example of the wave of international architects responding to the regional influences on Rwanda. The School has a similar approach to its design. The form is prominent, a metaphorically it can be an interpretation to the hilly landscape. And the use of volcanic stone to clad the exterior of the building.
School of architecture, University of Rwanda
While both these buildings have a very strong relationship between form and programme. The studies done were focused more on the spatial and programmatic response of the architecture. From the space planing to the layout and interpretation of the materials on programme.
Future ambitions.
A walk around the civic Centre in Kigali, draws ones attention to the values being sought after. An egalitarian space, inclusive for all walks of life. And its in this context that Norsken is found, a stone throw away from the civic heart of the city hall. The building reflects on its insides what the civic centre reflects on its outsides. The buildings programmes vary across different fields with low tech to very high tech, future and contemporary issues with possible solutions. A hybrid of activity. Startups and established companies alongside each other.
The student investigations into this building were user-centric. Focus was placed on what layout and design choices were done; so the building created an egalitarian space and facilitated encounters among its users with the hope to encourage cross pollination of ideas in these chance encounters.
Its interesting to see that the same complexities on a country level, can still be found in the rich diversity in a small group of students. The workshop served as a fantastic incubation ground for research topics. Which was witnessed in the ideas presented by the students at the end of the workshop. The duration of the workshop forced the students to narrow down to the core ideas they could investigate. This was made possible perhaps by the daily feedback sessions between the mentors and the students. The mentors placed emphasis on reviewing what was written over what was said. One observation was that there was a some articles whose conclusions were presented without an understanding of the evidence. This was also addressed in the remarks given by the mentors. A suggestion would be to allow them a period of one week after the workshop, to research their topic and review their essay after.
What kind of art is left behind by totalitarian regimes? A new free-to-readbook called Congo Style: From Belgian Art Nouveau to African Independence explores the visual culture, architecture and heritage sites of the country today known as the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). It does so by exploring two now-notorious regimes: King Leopold II of Belgium’s Congo Colony (1908-1960) and Mobutu Sese Seko’s totalitarian Zaire, established when he seized power in a military coup in 1965 after five years of political upheaval. We asked artist and visual culture scholar Ruth Sacks five questions about her book.
What did you set out to achieve?
Years ago, while I was in Belgium on an art residency, I became interested in the early modernist art nouveau movement (1890-1914). In architecture and art, this period is part of 20th century modernism, known for a minimal, clean aesthetic that’s influenced by new technologies and the advent of machines. Art nouveau is distinctive because it’s highly decorative, while still using the new building materials of iron and glass.
What interested me was the colonial nature of art nouveau. Art nouveau came with a very strong sense of defining newly formed (or unified) nation states in western Europe. It was the style used at world fairs. These were grand exhibitions showing off western countries’ scientific and cultural achievements, including the acquisition of colonies.
A colonial pavilion in the art nouveau style at the 1897 Brussels world fair in Belgium helped establish one of the names for Belgian art nouveau: “Style Congo”.
The style is distinctive for its curling, plant-like shapes and is a major tourist feature today. The years in which it was implanted in Brussels (about 1890-1905) directly coincided with the brutal Congo regime of Belgium’s King Leopold II.
Travelling to the DRC, I located actual art nouveau buildings from the early colonial period. But it was the state sites of the early Mobutu Sese Seko regime (1965 to 1975) that captured my attention. Like art nouveau, they are steeped in a sense of nationalism and aimed at impressing. For example, the Limete Tower (in use from 1974) on Boulevard Lumumba is a massive monument intended to be a museum celebrating national culture. A tower made up of a huge raw cement tube is topped by an organic floret shaped crown, with a curving walkway leading off from its rounded lower sections.
My experience of the capital city, Kinshasa, made me rethink what cities were and could be. Buildings like Limete Tower that were designed for very different infrastructures (far more ordered, European and US systems) have weathered in fascinating ways that are often related to extremely violent historic events.
I didn’t want to present a conventional study that only analyses the design of the architecture and its functionality. The book attempts to read sites like this within the particularities of their city, its streets, plants and histories.
What did you conclude about the Leopold period?
In Leopold II’s time, the king himself was cast as the villain of the “red rubber regime” in the Congo. The Belgian colonial regime under Leopold II committed atrocities connected to the rubber industry. (The 1897 Congo Pavilion was a pavilion within the Brussels World’s Fair dedicated to displaying how the Congo provided a lucrative and exotic resource to Belgium.)
Movements like the Congo Reform Association (mainly US and British) protested against horrific conditions, including torture and mutilation, that left at least a million Congolese people dead. A great deal of the focus was on Leopold II himself and his greed, which distracted attention away from the greater system of capitalist colonial expansion that was fully endorsed by Euro-American powers.
Famously, Leopold II never set foot in the Congo and neither did the art nouveau designers who fashioned buildings and exhibition pavilions relating to the Congo. I believe this distance from the realities of life in the Congo itself allowed for the fantastical forms that were created in Belgium.
What did you conclude about the Mobutu period?
Mobutu Sese Seko was widely maligned by the Euro-American press. What’s often ignored, to this day, is that he was put in place by Belgium and the US. He was painted as the villain of the African story, fulfilling the ultimate caricature of the African kleptocrat, yet he wouldn’t have come to power without the nature of the colonialism that came before him.
Belgian colonialism followed a logic of extractivism (removing natural resources to export them) that forced the Congolese economy to supply raw materials to the west (especially Belgium), which continues today.
Mobutu is considered corrupt in the Congo today and his military dictatorship was indeed brutal and controlled the Congolese people with fear. However, his commandeering of a cultural blooming in Kinshasa in the late 1960s and early 1970s was important. Instead of dismissing what he built as only the work of a dictator, my book draws out some of the complexity of this time and what it meant to celebrate African craft, art forms and traditional culture.
The process of appropriating Euro-American artistic ideas and architectural styles in order to celebrate Africanness, as an anti-colonial statement, still holds weight today. Many of Mobutu’s towering monuments are considered objects of pride in the city.
How does this live on today?
There is something to be gained from looking at what is left in the wake of tragically violent regimes and how their structures are treated within both their societies and their immediate surroundings. How material culture is made is as important as what is made. Reckoning with monuments and memorials, and considering how these are maintained in the city, can shed often unexpected insights into the ways histories are told.
My hope is that the book remains relevant as a sign there is value in picking apart material remains of regimes that aimed for total control, but never fully achieved it. The associations that build up around public spaces and exhibitions are not necessarily only to do with the circumstances of their making, but how these stories have been filtered over time. They can alienate people but they can also engender pride.
The extractivist attitudes I describe throughout the book, which see the Congo as a resource with bountiful raw natural materials, are still very much present in our day-to-day life. The cobalt in our smartphones, computers and electric cars is mined by labourers working in near slave conditions to feed our need for the latest technology. While Congo Style stays with historical examples in Kinshasa, the built material that follows colonial ecocide is the main topic.
Transnational Architecture Group 