There’s something about the corkscrew-like pattern of the spiral staircase that attracts photographers. Almost every portfolio of architectural photography has at least one.
Last week I photographed one of the best examples I have come across to date in the Mechanics’ Institute in San Francisco https://www.milibrary.org/about. This comparatively modest neoclassical building can be found on Market Street, in the centre of the city’s bustling financial district. Building started in 1909, three years after the great San Francisco earthquake, under the direction of architect Albert Pissis.
We may live in the age of the lift and escalator, but this hasn’t stopped architects using beautiful staircases as a means of adding value to spaces. These creative souls never saw ‘the stairs’ just as humdrum routes up or down but as a vehicle for conveying the character of the areas they grace. And it wasn’t just architects who loved them: French fashion designer Coco Chanel designed her very own and even added mirrored and lacquered walls to surround it.
I want to share with you some I have photographed over the last few years. Among my own personal favourites is the beautiful example in the Vatican Museum, designed by Giuseppe Momo in 1932. This staircase, like the original it replaced, is a double helix, having two staircases allowing people to ascend without meeting people descending; as with the original, the main purpose of this design is to allow uninterrupted traffic in each direction.
The turn of the century heralded boom times for architectural photographers in Dublin. The noughties saw the city’s skyline sprout a forest of cranes, with former inner-city wastelands ceding space to gleaming steel and concrete. I remember shooting some of these new buildings, marvelling at the talent of their young architects. You can see my architectural photography by visiting https://www.robertmullan.com/Architecture/The-Built-Eviornment
Back then, digital photography hadn’t established itself and digital camera sensors had not ‘come of age’, these new ‘toys’ were viewed with suspicion. Most architectural photographers in Dublin stuck with film.
There was one film camera that became de rigueur: The Hasselblad SWC https://www.hasselblad.com/history/. Made in Sweden, it combined the precision of a Swiss watch and the strength of hardened steel. The legendary Carl Zeiss optical company designed the lens in the 1950s. Nothing came near for its distortion-free images. Lines were always parallel it never failed to deliver brilliant colour reproduction and contrast; oh I could go on and on! For interiors, it had no equal, no wonder the camera was in every good architectural photographer’s camera bag.
I used my Hasselblad to capture one of my favourite images: Trinity College Dublin’s iconic Old Library building. This magnificent building celebrated its 300th anniversary a couple of years ago. Work started in May 1712 and it took another 20 years to complete the building. Many famous students of the college like writer Jonathan Swift, philosopher Edmund Burke and artist Mary Delany were amongst the ‘regulars’. More information on this wonderful building see www.tcd.ie/library/tercentenary
Mention Architectural Photography in Bilbao and one building springs to mind: the Guggenheim Museum. https://www.guggenheim-bilbao.eus/en/It has become the city’s ‘avatar’ since it opened nearly 20 years ago.
I was lucky, it had rained most of the day but by evening the weather shaped up for a nice twilight shot. It was crucial that I used the small window between sunset and darkness to get the effect I wanted. You can see many of my ‘golden-hour’ images here: https://www.robertmullan.com/Architecture/The-Built-Eviornment
If ever a building turned a struggling industrial city into a cultural metropolis it was this one. In fact, you could it say the expression ‘the Guggenheim effect’ was coined because of it. Designed by ‘starchitect’ Frank Gehry, it changed the fortunes of this Basque city. The region was once known as a former powerhouse of heavy industries like shipbuilding and coal and steel production.
Failing to embrace modern technology, one by one, outdated dockyards and warehouses had to close. Workers and their families deserted the city, leaving in their wake a ‘rust belt’ of abandoned factories and shipyards. Passionate art lovers were thin on the ground in Bilbao, so when plans for the ambitious cultural project were revealed, many assumed it was a bad joke. It was no joke! In all, 20 million visitors have contributed to giving the city a new life. The Guggenheim effect, also known as the Bilbao effect, has turned into the symbol of how art and culture can boost the struggling economy.