Oct 27, 2007
BOOK REVIEW
Building Cambodia by Helen Grant Ross and Darryl Leon Collins
Reviewed by Andrew Symon
Asia Times (Hong Kong)
PHNOM PENH - Despite the scars of war and strains of poverty, Cambodia's capital city is visually one of Asia's most attractive. Now with the peace-time rush towards modernity and cookie-cutter-shaped urban development threatening its unique and regionally unrivalled low-rise scale, Phnom Penh finds itself at important architectural crossroads.
Architect Helen Ross and historian Darryl Collins, two long-term residents of Cambodia, address this threatened heritage in their new compelling book, Building Cambodia: New Khmer Architecture: 1953-1970. A product of careful French colonial design in the early part of the 20th century, and a striking Khmer modernist architectural movement after independence in the 1950s and 1960s, the inland city nestles at the junction of the Mekong and Tonle Sap Rivers.
As more money and people flow into the city to share in the new buoyancy of the Cambodian economy, nondescript, unimaginative glass tower architecture is beginning to erode the city's old world character. Arguably historical Phnom Penh is no longer protected by the time warp created by the lost years of the Khmer Rouge tyranny of the 1970s and the subsequent two decades of civil war, upheaval and economic stagnation.
Times are now better for Cambodians than they have been for the past 40 years. But whether the city can preserve its heritage and charm while making wise choices for future development - and avoid the fate of the now congested and mostly ugly Southeast Asian mega-cities elsewhere in the region - remains to be seen.
It is not just a matter of protecting French colonial period boulevards, villas and public buildings - of which the city has in virtually complete precincts. At risk also is a very Cambodian legacy in the many distinctive modernist buildings constructed in the 1950s and 1960s by largely Khmer architects.
It was a true local school of design - a "new Khmer architecture" - as it was described at the time. It expressed a fast lost golden age of optimism and modernization after independence in 1953. Yet this story, and the movement's architectural legacy, are not well appreciated - not internationally and perhaps even less so in Cambodia itself. Ross and Collins attempt to fill that gap in their magnificent multi-dimensional new work.
The book, a product of seven years of research and the beneficiary of a grant from Japan's Toyota Foundation, was launched in September at the Foreign Correspondent's Club of Thailand. Through a rich mix of contemporary and current photos, it documents an extraordinary period of construction.
After nearly a century of colonialism, there was a great nationalist excitement at being able to shape a new Cambodia and this was driven by a wave of public construction inspired by the country's mercurial head of government, Prince Norodom Sihanouk.
Young architects, engineers and town planners newly returned from studies overseas, mostly in France, enthusiastically combined Western modernist forms, materials and functions with traditional Cambodian designs, practices and local materials. They often drew on inspiration from the temples at the world-renowned ancient Angkor complex, although they did not seek to recreate its monumentalism.
One structure that especially stands out is the Institute of Languages, formerly the library for the teacher's training college. It is a small but striking circular building whose form was inspired by the traditional Khmer woven palm leaf hat still worn throughout the countryside - though the structure makes use of ribs of concrete rather than rattan.
Designed by Vann Molyvann, one of the most influential of the Khmer architects, and today still living in Phnom Penh, its circular concrete roof is indented with concrete rays and seems to almost float in a circular glass wall. Inside light is filtered by the careful location of windows so that the interior is not exposed to intense illuminant contrasts.
Architects like Molyvann (as well as the economists, political scientists and lawyers, including those who would lead the Khmer Rouge) who went abroad to study after World War II were the first Cambodians of any significant number to do so. They returned, Ross and Collins note, with both the new ideas of Western modernism - the simplification of form and design following function - with designs and motifs inspired by Cambodian historical and contemporary architectures built in harmony with the country's tropical environment.
For instance, glass was not used on the extensive scale common to Western modernist buildings of the era. Rather - and sensibly so - there was great reliance on open spaces and verandahs allowing natural ventilation. Water was often used as moats around buildings and in courtyard ponds. Spaces under buildings are common as well as roof terraces. Concrete was often combined with brick and stone.
The largest construction of the era is the National Sports Complex, finished in 1964 and built on a 40-hectare site originally designed to host the inaugural Southeast Asian Games in 1963 - but which in fact came to be held in Jakarta. The complex was also designed by Molyvann and made great use of earthworks to shape the site. Half a million cubic meters of earth were dug out of the site and piled up to create an elliptical stadium able to seat 60,000 people.
Royal builder
The authors set their story in the wider context of Cambodia's political and economic development over those years. At the heart of this expansion was Sihanouk, who believed that a widespread pubic construction program was a key to shaping a confident new Cambodia. In this pursuit, the royal figure reportedly saw himself in the tradition of the great Angkor kings of the country's ancient past, emulating in small scale their monumental architectural achievements.
While Sihanouk's leadership has often been criticized as verging on the dictatorial, leading in part perhaps to the country's later traumas, Ross and Collins argue the architecture he oversaw was certainly not that of an authoritarian state. There was diversity, subtlety and innovation and there were no monumental works that de-humanize by their scale. And construction was not just limited to government buildings, monuments, arts and sports centers, hotels and homes for the wealthy.
There were also uniquely constructed schools, university buildings, commercial offices, model factories, churches and private homes for the middle class as well as housing estates for low wage earners. Nor was building limited to just Phnom Penh; works were done all over Cambodia. And it was often meshed with astute town planning, as manifested in the expansion of Phnom Penh.
This was also seen in other newly independent countries in the period. Elsewhere in Southeast Asia, the Cambodian experience brings to mind Indonesia and president Sukarno's promotion of urban development and architecture. But there seems nothing elsewhere quite like the coherence and extent of the Khmer modernist movement.
So impressed was Singapore's founding prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew, with the new buildings and gardens of the well-planned Phnom Penh during his visit in 1967 that he saw it as a model for his vision of a modern Singapore. Vann Molyvann recalled decades later that Lee unsuccessfully requested Sihanouk to allow Cambodia's state architects to work in his city-state.
"The term 'new Khmer architecture' was in fact coined in the 1960s, but the detail of this school was later largely forgotten in Cambodia," Collins says. Collins originally came to Cambodia in 1994 as part of an Australian government-funded program to assist with the restoration of Phnom Penh's national museum. Ross, originally from the United Kingdom, moved to Phonm Penh in 1997 from Thailand after having worked on the development of Bangkok's rapid transit system.
Unfortunately, both authors note, much is now being lost or threatened through demolition and unregulated development as more money flows into Cambodia. For instance, chipping away at Molyvann's national sports center is a dense Taiwanese-invested office, shopping and apartment development which is being built literally to encircle the architectural masterpiece.
One of the greatest losses has been the Preah Suramarit national theater, which was opened in 1968 and also designed by Molyvann. Much of the building was gutted by fire in 1994 and no attempt at restoration followed. It has continued to be used by local musicians, dancers and singers as a place for rehearsals, but a recent deal between the Ministry of Culture and the locally-owned Royal Group has the structure scheduled for demolition.
Khmer-designed modernist buildings are at more risk than the old French colonial architecture and planning, Ross and Collins say. That's because the older European structures tend to be more accepted internationally for their heritage value than those of the more recent modernist style - although belatedly world bodies such as the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization are making efforts to encourage preservation of the mid-20th century legacy.
"These buildings show a real Cambodian spirit," said Collins. "It was a real experiment that worked." So, too, does the authors' book in detailing how the vitality and promise of that short but golden era was captured in the then young country's architecture.
Building Cambodia: New Khmer Architecture 1953-1970 by Helen Grant Ross and Darry Leon Collins, including a preface by His Majesty King Shamoni. The Key Publisher, Bangkok, 2007. ISBN: 974934121. Price US$65, 333 pages.
Andrew Symon is a Singapore-based journalist and analyst specializing in energy and mining issues.
Architect Helen Ross and historian Darryl Collins, two long-term residents of Cambodia, address this threatened heritage in their new compelling book, Building Cambodia: New Khmer Architecture: 1953-1970. A product of careful French colonial design in the early part of the 20th century, and a striking Khmer modernist architectural movement after independence in the 1950s and 1960s, the inland city nestles at the junction of the Mekong and Tonle Sap Rivers.
As more money and people flow into the city to share in the new buoyancy of the Cambodian economy, nondescript, unimaginative glass tower architecture is beginning to erode the city's old world character. Arguably historical Phnom Penh is no longer protected by the time warp created by the lost years of the Khmer Rouge tyranny of the 1970s and the subsequent two decades of civil war, upheaval and economic stagnation.
Times are now better for Cambodians than they have been for the past 40 years. But whether the city can preserve its heritage and charm while making wise choices for future development - and avoid the fate of the now congested and mostly ugly Southeast Asian mega-cities elsewhere in the region - remains to be seen.
It is not just a matter of protecting French colonial period boulevards, villas and public buildings - of which the city has in virtually complete precincts. At risk also is a very Cambodian legacy in the many distinctive modernist buildings constructed in the 1950s and 1960s by largely Khmer architects.
It was a true local school of design - a "new Khmer architecture" - as it was described at the time. It expressed a fast lost golden age of optimism and modernization after independence in 1953. Yet this story, and the movement's architectural legacy, are not well appreciated - not internationally and perhaps even less so in Cambodia itself. Ross and Collins attempt to fill that gap in their magnificent multi-dimensional new work.
The book, a product of seven years of research and the beneficiary of a grant from Japan's Toyota Foundation, was launched in September at the Foreign Correspondent's Club of Thailand. Through a rich mix of contemporary and current photos, it documents an extraordinary period of construction.
After nearly a century of colonialism, there was a great nationalist excitement at being able to shape a new Cambodia and this was driven by a wave of public construction inspired by the country's mercurial head of government, Prince Norodom Sihanouk.
Young architects, engineers and town planners newly returned from studies overseas, mostly in France, enthusiastically combined Western modernist forms, materials and functions with traditional Cambodian designs, practices and local materials. They often drew on inspiration from the temples at the world-renowned ancient Angkor complex, although they did not seek to recreate its monumentalism.
One structure that especially stands out is the Institute of Languages, formerly the library for the teacher's training college. It is a small but striking circular building whose form was inspired by the traditional Khmer woven palm leaf hat still worn throughout the countryside - though the structure makes use of ribs of concrete rather than rattan.
Designed by Vann Molyvann, one of the most influential of the Khmer architects, and today still living in Phnom Penh, its circular concrete roof is indented with concrete rays and seems to almost float in a circular glass wall. Inside light is filtered by the careful location of windows so that the interior is not exposed to intense illuminant contrasts.
Architects like Molyvann (as well as the economists, political scientists and lawyers, including those who would lead the Khmer Rouge) who went abroad to study after World War II were the first Cambodians of any significant number to do so. They returned, Ross and Collins note, with both the new ideas of Western modernism - the simplification of form and design following function - with designs and motifs inspired by Cambodian historical and contemporary architectures built in harmony with the country's tropical environment.
For instance, glass was not used on the extensive scale common to Western modernist buildings of the era. Rather - and sensibly so - there was great reliance on open spaces and verandahs allowing natural ventilation. Water was often used as moats around buildings and in courtyard ponds. Spaces under buildings are common as well as roof terraces. Concrete was often combined with brick and stone.
The largest construction of the era is the National Sports Complex, finished in 1964 and built on a 40-hectare site originally designed to host the inaugural Southeast Asian Games in 1963 - but which in fact came to be held in Jakarta. The complex was also designed by Molyvann and made great use of earthworks to shape the site. Half a million cubic meters of earth were dug out of the site and piled up to create an elliptical stadium able to seat 60,000 people.
Royal builder
The authors set their story in the wider context of Cambodia's political and economic development over those years. At the heart of this expansion was Sihanouk, who believed that a widespread pubic construction program was a key to shaping a confident new Cambodia. In this pursuit, the royal figure reportedly saw himself in the tradition of the great Angkor kings of the country's ancient past, emulating in small scale their monumental architectural achievements.
While Sihanouk's leadership has often been criticized as verging on the dictatorial, leading in part perhaps to the country's later traumas, Ross and Collins argue the architecture he oversaw was certainly not that of an authoritarian state. There was diversity, subtlety and innovation and there were no monumental works that de-humanize by their scale. And construction was not just limited to government buildings, monuments, arts and sports centers, hotels and homes for the wealthy.
There were also uniquely constructed schools, university buildings, commercial offices, model factories, churches and private homes for the middle class as well as housing estates for low wage earners. Nor was building limited to just Phnom Penh; works were done all over Cambodia. And it was often meshed with astute town planning, as manifested in the expansion of Phnom Penh.
This was also seen in other newly independent countries in the period. Elsewhere in Southeast Asia, the Cambodian experience brings to mind Indonesia and president Sukarno's promotion of urban development and architecture. But there seems nothing elsewhere quite like the coherence and extent of the Khmer modernist movement.
So impressed was Singapore's founding prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew, with the new buildings and gardens of the well-planned Phnom Penh during his visit in 1967 that he saw it as a model for his vision of a modern Singapore. Vann Molyvann recalled decades later that Lee unsuccessfully requested Sihanouk to allow Cambodia's state architects to work in his city-state.
"The term 'new Khmer architecture' was in fact coined in the 1960s, but the detail of this school was later largely forgotten in Cambodia," Collins says. Collins originally came to Cambodia in 1994 as part of an Australian government-funded program to assist with the restoration of Phnom Penh's national museum. Ross, originally from the United Kingdom, moved to Phonm Penh in 1997 from Thailand after having worked on the development of Bangkok's rapid transit system.
Unfortunately, both authors note, much is now being lost or threatened through demolition and unregulated development as more money flows into Cambodia. For instance, chipping away at Molyvann's national sports center is a dense Taiwanese-invested office, shopping and apartment development which is being built literally to encircle the architectural masterpiece.
One of the greatest losses has been the Preah Suramarit national theater, which was opened in 1968 and also designed by Molyvann. Much of the building was gutted by fire in 1994 and no attempt at restoration followed. It has continued to be used by local musicians, dancers and singers as a place for rehearsals, but a recent deal between the Ministry of Culture and the locally-owned Royal Group has the structure scheduled for demolition.
Khmer-designed modernist buildings are at more risk than the old French colonial architecture and planning, Ross and Collins say. That's because the older European structures tend to be more accepted internationally for their heritage value than those of the more recent modernist style - although belatedly world bodies such as the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization are making efforts to encourage preservation of the mid-20th century legacy.
"These buildings show a real Cambodian spirit," said Collins. "It was a real experiment that worked." So, too, does the authors' book in detailing how the vitality and promise of that short but golden era was captured in the then young country's architecture.
Building Cambodia: New Khmer Architecture 1953-1970 by Helen Grant Ross and Darry Leon Collins, including a preface by His Majesty King Shamoni. The Key Publisher, Bangkok, 2007. ISBN: 974934121. Price US$65, 333 pages.
Andrew Symon is a Singapore-based journalist and analyst specializing in energy and mining issues.
8 comments:
Khmer know how to build but don't know how preserve!
Not quite, we do know how to preserve, but when you are broke, things just dry up and decay away. Luckly for us, however, we got lot of moisture here to slow down the decay process. Moreover, as you said, we know how to build and build thing that required very little maintenance.
Do that to your own house. Obviously you are one of them who knows nothing more than a getto because that's all you know of. If we look at the history of Cambodia it shows a pattern.
Yes, poor Ah Khmer-US who live in the slums (Long Beach) for generation after generation don't know anything about these goodies.
Black-teeth Yuon Vietcong troller on KI-media like this animal@3:33 AM that is pretending to be khmer and calling khmer "Ah Khmer-US" must be euthanized asap...
Yep, someone will have to keep a close eye on Ah tootless Khmer-Yuon.
To Anon. 3:33 AM
I agree with you, especially when it comes to the relatives of Ah Khvang M-khak who lives in Long Beach. You don't need to believe me, ask your one-eye boss in Nam Vang, he'll confirm it for you!
No, that will not be necessary, 8:05. If you say so, I will just take your words for it.
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