19. The Most Fantastic Doorway in Paris

One thing about the French is that they certainly enjoy their share of the avant-garde. In fact, I'd say Paris was at the leading edge of avant-garde were it not for the fact that avant-garde already means "leading edge". Or something like that.

One building, 29 Avenue Rappe, is even certified avant-garde. Designed by the great Art Nouveau architect Jules Lavirotte and built by an all-star cast of France's best ceramicists, door makers and framers, the apartment was given an award for the best facade in Paris in 1901:

While folks line up for the Eiffel Tower, a five-minute walk away you can have 29 Avenue Rapp all to yourself - just you and this unique showcase of French decorative arts. It may not give you an unparalleled view of Paris, but what you'll see will certainly be unlike anything else in the city of light.

Like the flamboyant doorway that puts the WOW in the WOWchitecture: 

While I stood in front of it, a friendly middle-aged Parisian man sauntered over to make sure I understood the truly masculine nature of the building. It was hard to miss. I had already spotted the testes carved out of the top of the magnificent doors. But my friend also pointed out the phallus descending from them, as well as the lizard-shaped door handle:

Still, the ceramic door-surround had some distinctly feminine touches to it. Like the head of a woman, said to be Lavirotte's wife, at the crest of the arch, adorned with the head and fur of some poor fox. Or the delicate, nude and rather young-looking images of Adam and Eve, a little higher up. And, indeed, the flowerpots decorating most of the windows:

Then again, the stone blocks making up most of the building gave a rugged masculine feel to them, as did the arches and oxen heads that appeared to support the wrought-iron balconies:



Lavirotte was by no means a one-hit wonder, nor were all of his buildings whimsical. His beautiful 3 Avenue Rapp, just down the block, contains many classical Art Nouveau elements: a wonderfully colourful round turret; sinewy, green wrought iron; ceramic figures, coloured bricks; and beautiful balconies. Not to mention a six-storey high tromp l'oeil trellis that appears to be three-dimensional:

Still, if you like your Paris icons to be tall and famous, check out the Lavirotte-designed Parkette, Rapp Square, and look through his black wrought-iron gate:

You'll feel the visit was worth it. As for me, I'll take the little-known gem called 29 Avenue Rapp over that other hyper-extended phallic symbol any day of the week. And while you're at Lavirotte's exuberant building, don't forget to drop into the patisserie across the street. If the buildings haven't yet made you go "WOW", their tarte au citron surely will.

18. The Craziest Building in Valencia, Spain.

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered, quite by accident, what I consider to be Valencia's most unusual, yet least known architectural structure. It's not mentioned in any Valencia guidebooks or tourist websites. Its location is rather out of the way - down a small road between the bullring (boooooo) and train station. There are no signs nearby pointing the way, or plaques out front indicating that it's a sight of historical/cultural interest.

But once you've found it - assuming you do - I think you'll agree it's a most peculiar building:

 

I did a bit of digging and found that surprisingly little is known about the building. It was constructed in the early 1930s and is known as Casa Judia (or The Jewish Home). The name was given (nobody seems to know by whom) because of the blue Star of David that sits just under the curved lintel: 

I have to admit that I love everything about this entry way: the wooden doors surrounded by ornamental doodads, the green wrought iron protecting the glass (and which may symbolize the Tree of Life), the Dali-esque crenelated watch below the rounded lintel, and the antique-striped colours, which at this portion of the building remain relatively mute.
 

But the Star of David does not necessarily mean a direct link to Judaism. If it did, then the following building would likely be the largest synagogue in Europe:
 

It's not. It's Valencia's Catholic Cathedral.
 

And this building would possibly be the Jewish social centre:
 

Again, it's not. It's the Palace of Expositions.

The fact is, the hexagram is a symbol of many ancient peoples. It's just that King David - who may have been the world's first and best brander and marketer - added the star to his shield, and ever since it has been associated most commonly with the Jewish people.
 

Meanwhile, back at the Casa Judia, as your eyes wander up the middle and top portion of the tower, you notice that it becomes progressively more wild and colourful: 

  

With the piece de resistance being the penthouse suite:

Fortunately, for the architecture lovers amongst you, there seems to be a bit more known about the architect. His name was Juan Francisco Guardiola Martinez, and he was Swedish (one presumes on his mother's side of the family. It will not surprise you to learn that he was a leading disciple of the great Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi.

He built the Casa for a man named Joseph Salom, who was presumed to be Jewish. But to add a little mystery to the building, if you look again at the second picture from the top, you'll see that the initials inside the Star of David appear to be JB and not JS.
 

Guardiola's other work of great gaudy architecture, which preceded Casa Judia, is up the coast in Barcelona, where it's known as Casa Mora, Casa Chino, and by another few names:
 

While I was trying to unravel the mystery of Casa Judia, I saw Guardiola's style variously described as Deco, Nouveau, neo-Egyptian and various other things. I disagree with each of these assessments. I simply see it as the iconoclastic style of an architect with a unique vision and a singular way of expressing it.

The world needs more people like that!

My blog: http://WOWchitecture.blogspot.com

My online store: http://seymour-kanowitch.americanfineart.com

My other online store: http://zazzle.com/wowchitecture*

17. My 8 Favorite Buildings that Look Like Flying Saucers

Architects, like the rest of us, are fascinated by flying saucers. Unlike the rest of us, they can actually do something about it. Here are some of my favourite buildings that look like flying saucers.

1. Niteroi Museum of Contemporary Art

As with many of my lists, right at the top of this one is the late, great Oscar Niemeyer. The Brazilian architect once wrote, "It is not the right angle that attracts me, nor the straight line, hard and inflexible, created by man. What attracts me is the free and sensual curve..." Nowhere is this principle better put to use than in Niemeyer's out-of-this world Niteroi Museum of Contemporary Art:

2. Mercedes-Benz Arena

Close Encounters of the Third Kind - Part 2? Someone call Steven Spielberg and let him know that his mother ship has been taken. Once called the Shanghai World Expo Cultural Centre, it now goes by the name Mercedes-Benz Arena. You just know that somewhere Richard Dreyfuss is making a model of this out of mashed potatoes.

 

3. Biblioteca Sandro Penna

And you thought libraries all looked like boxes. This one, Biblioteca Sandro Penna in Perugia, Italy seems to be getting ready to take off:

 

4. Abu Dhabi Louvre

Put up $747-million, and you too can have a UFO-shaped Louvre Museum in your backyard (construction costs and batteries not included). WHAT, you say, you'd have to be Abu Dhabi to afford this? Well, actually you would.

The Abu Dhabi Louvre, designed by Jean Nouvel, will open in 2015 as part of the United Arab Emirates' massive cultural project, Saadiyat Island. The dome alone weighs 7,000 tonnes but is supported at only four points. Devilishly clever those aliens!

5. Lookout Tower of Olympic Park

More like a series of flying-saucer landing pads than actual UFOs, Bejing's Lookout Tower of Olympic Park keeps a watchful eye on the city's Bird's Nest Stadium:

 

 

6. Hotel Hesperia, Barcelona

Some flying saucers don't even need landing pads. They just set themselves down wherever they like - like this one on top of Richard Rogers' Hotel Hesperia in Barcelona. Fortunately, it fits in well with the design.

 
7. The Evoluon

The Evoluon, in Eindhoven (The Netherlands), even sounds like a futuristic transport vehicle. But it's not. It started out in the 1970s and 80s as a museum dedicated to Science and Technology. It was closed in 1989, but today flies on as an international conference centre:

8. Toronto City Hall

There is a good reason, of course, why I particularly like buildings that resemble flying saucers. I was born and lived most of my life in a city with a disc-shaped building right in its centre.

In the 1950s, Toronto held a global competition for an architect to design its new city hall. The winner, chosen in 1958, was Finnish architect Viljo Revell. His design featured two curved towers with a UFO-shaped saucer in between:

The saucer is actually the chamber where Toronto's City Council meets. It's a bit odd that a backward body should meet in such a futuristic-looking structure. But it's by no means the craziest thing at Toronto City Hall. That honour - by a longshot - goes to Mayor Rob Ford. Coming soon to a rehab clinic near you.

16. Hama, Syria: Between the Massacres

The city of Hama is virtually synonymous with the word "massacre".

As the home of Syria's conservative (Sunni) Muslim Brotherhood, Hama lies at the epicentre of uprisings against the (Shia) Assad regime. For this, it has suffered repression, reprisals and untold loss of life. 

Current Syrian President Bashar al-Assad

The most brutal carnage took place after an uprising in 1982. Then-president Haffez al-Assad, father of the current President, ordered the town besieged by his brother and his elite team of 12,000 special forces. The city was bombed from the air, shelled by artillery, and stormed by tanks and troops.

Large sections of the old city were completely destroyed. Torture and mass executions followed. The use of chemical weapons was alleged but never proved. No one knows the precise number of people killed in the massacre, but estimates range from 20,000-40,000.

Nor has Hama fared well since the onset of the "Arab Spring". Syria's fourth-largest city was once again put under siege in 2011 following large, but peaceful, anti-government demonstrations. By early 2012, the city was subdued. This time, deaths numbered in the hundreds rather than the tens of thousands.

And yet, when I think of Hama, a very different image comes to mind. I was fortunate to travel through Syria in the fall of 2009: a time when the country was at peace internally; a time when economic reforms and an openness to the world offered a glimmer of hope; and a time when a foreigner could travel about freely among the most welcoming people in the world, unaware of the blood-letting to follow in less than a year-and-a-half's time.

For me, when I think of Hama, the image that comes to mind is that of the Orontes River which gently meanders through the city, sustaining life in what would otherwise be a desert wasteland.

Hama during peaceful times

 I think of its verdant banks, and the people who saunter alongside them, pausing occasionally for a family photo. I think of the waiter who when he wasn't delivering falafel balls to my table, was on his knees behind my chair directing his evening prayers to Mecca.

I also think of Hama's unique architecture, like its police station, whose style I couldn't even begin to name:

One can only imagine the horrors that took place inside this beautiful building

And it's old colonial clock tower, always under the watchful gaze of the dictator of the day:

Even in peaceful times Big Brother was everywhere

Most of all I think of what made Hama famous centuries before the massacres - its iconic Norias or water wheels. Some of the 17 or so remaining wooden giants have been creaking and croaking their way through history since the 13th century. I like the single Norias that dot the riverbank:

  But I like even more the double ones:

One of Hama's double Norias reflected in the Orontes River

By surviving all these years, Hama's historic Norias have come to symbolize the triumph of the human spirit over the adverse and brutal conditions aligned against it. So too, in a way, have Hama's people.

I don't know if I will ever be able to return to Syria, or even if there will be a Syria left to which I can return. The country is balkanized, strife comes from within and without, and the buzzards are circling. And yet, I still kindle a small flame for a Syria that one day may be at peace, both with itself and its neighbours. 

Insha'alla, it will come to pass.