Monday, 09 April 2007 |

The holiday home or summer-house, by definition, is a building
constructed with a strictly defined personality. For the temporary
inhabitant, it provides a sense of escape without abandonment, and
leisure without effort. Its very existence is to promote feelings and
moods not experienced in our everyday lives. A temporary euphoria
squeezed between four walls for a period of the user's choosing. It is
a social engineer’s architectural dream.
This idea of temporary elation has existed for centuries. But the
concept exploded with the onset of modernism in the twentieth
century. A newly emerging middle class sought escapism from the
polluted cities while still enjoying the comforts of their newly
industrialized homes. A modernist belief that experience was shaped
through design spearheaded the mass-production of seasonal dwelling. Le
Corbusier described buildings as “machines for living”, and
architecture was bent to supply the petite bourgeoisie’s need for
leisure and relaxation. Buildings were simplified, historical
references and ornament removed in favor of promoting the beauty of
modern materials and construction. Concrete and its featureless
character became the material of choice in the construction of
buildings throughout Europe and North America. Their homogeneous
appearance celebrated by Brutalist architects but condemned by
post-modernists for their flagrant disregard towards the social,
historic, and architectural environment of its surroundings.

Today, this form of design is considered to be archaic in its
principles. Concrete is seen to be aesthetically vacuous, and is used
structurally rather than visually. Instead, glass facades and organic
materials are a building’s ornaments. But a team of architects in
Austria have resurrected the ideological trappings of modernist
thinkers to create a unique and eerily beautiful interpretation of the
holiday villa. Set on lake Millstatter See in Austria, this four-story
villa is an ode to the idealism of the holiday homes of old, but
simultaneously sits in the avant-garde.
Much of the design was adapted from the hotel that stood previously on
the original plot, and can be seen in the bold and unrelenting expanses
of concrete. But rather than mask the commanding stretches of gray
matter, the team have embraced and adorned the blank walls to become a
key part of the building’s persona. The vast expanses complemented by
materials that not only enhance the concrete’s authority, but also
mimic it in character. Pale, smooth furniture occupy the inside,
while white decking and exposed brick-work dominate the outside. The
effect of which can feel arresting at first, but develops a strange
allure when looked at up close.

The building is a prime example of the brutal, unrelenting style of
design from the 1950s, but the overhaul of ideas has transformed it
into a testament to the contemporary. The fluid transition between
interior and exterior, coupled with the large openings throughout the
build, allow nature to flow through the cold interior, giving it a warm
and organic feel. While the geometric shapes of the building draw
imposing silhouettes on the lake and the surrounding countryside.
The minimal material concept (structural concrete in combination with
white painted wood and metal surfaces) lends the building a monolithic
character. But the upper floors of the building have an intimate,
personal feel that doesn’t compromise the need for personal space.

It’s a building that screams arrogance and in places can feel a
little soulless. But the sheer audacity of its form juxtaposed
with its purpose as a leisure facility, offers an intriguing concept
that hasn’t been seen since modernism dared to challenge the purpose of
design and the human condition. By Matthew Hussey
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