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Günther Domenig 1934–2012

Peter Cook remembers the Austrian phenomenon and ‘truly good bloke’

Austria has seen some of the most creative and progressive architecture during the last 40 years: the strangeness of some of it has fed into every crevice. And yet Günther Domenig, as a seminal figure, is in danger of disappearing into the mysterious crevices of lost reputation. Back in the 1960s he was an exotic and brilliant student: developing megastructures and city projects that still resonate with audacity and expertise. Then he started to build, along with his friend Eilfred Huth, and their high school in Graz was fearless in its use of unadulterated concrete.

If Brutalism has been ascribed to the Smithsons and some German and Dutch architects, it is this school that should be studied as the key reference. Yet just down the street, the pair created an even more adventurous structure: a meeting hall-cum-refectory for a convent, hidden from the street in a courtyard. This armadillo-like structure with oval ‘eye’ rooflights can be clearly stated as the start of the ‘Grazer Schule’ − a conglomeration of somewhat expressionist architects, which included Szyszkowitz and Kowalski, Klaus Kada, Volker Giencke and some others.

Toshio Nakamura (editor of the Japanese magazine A+U) caught a glimpse of the ‘Z’ Bank in southern Vienna and naughtily chose it for the magazine’s cover. For many years this extraordinary structure, with its tumbling metal facade, its twisting ventilation tubes, and its giant sculpted hand on the wall, remained an essential part of Vienna for student tours. Domenig would flit in and out of the capital city: never really part of it but somehow bypassing its rivalries and paranoias. Indeed he would flit in and out of other European cities: admired by select coteries, but never mastering speaking English so remaining apart from international stardom.

The AA’s Alvin Boyarsky did nonetheless stage a really evocative show in London, complete with original drawings and an exotic ‘bird’ piece. At that time (the late 1980s), Domenig was embarking on his life’s dream: the construction of the Steinhaus (stone-house) on the lakeside site outside Klagenfurt that he inherited from his grandmother.The wherewithal for this undoubtedly came from some very substantial commissions: a large (rather Modernist) hospital and a composite two-block ‘megastucture’ for Graz University as well as a building for Graz Technical University, where he was Professor. In his first months in the post, he brought Cedric Price, Raimund Abraham, Coop Himmelb(l)au and me down to the school for one-week workshops. It says something about the man that he invited such rivals down to his school.

A fair crop of original structures can be found around Austria: museums, hotels, lakeside port buildings and probably a load of stuff that we don’t know about. Yet in the later years it was the Steinhaus that seemed to haunt him, somehow intended as, not so much a ‘house’, but a shrine to architecture. Characteristically generous with hospitality he would almost dare you to walk down the precipitous garden walls, only one day to fall off himself − with serious injuries. He lived life seemingly as a dare, smoking like a chimney and driving his red Maserati like a demon through tunnels beneath the Alps. He was the essence of the Austrian phenomenon and a truly good bloke.

Readers' comments (1)

  • In the mid-1980s he was the rising star of the Graz school of architecture. I remember in 1989 trying to secure a summer apprenticeship at his Graz office without success. (Instead I had a very beneficial work experience in the Atelier of Prof Wilhelm Holzbauer in Vienna.......)

    Some years later around 1994, when studying at UC Berkeley, I attended a lecture of his. His Steinhouse was his magnum opus and he was really emotionally involved with it. He shared (via translator --- he did not speak a word of English) with the audience anecdotes of horrified neighbours who were complaining about this alien and upsetting architectural intruder. His glint in his eye testimony to the enjoyment of subverting suburban conservatism in Carinthia, Austria. I would venture to state that he did what Frank Gehry did, two decades earlier and was unfortunately, not widely recognised beyond Austria.

    If architecture exists in heaven and beyond, he would be spicing things up for sure.

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