A sorry symbol of profligacy

What was described as the centrepiece of the redevelopment of Dunedin's town hall is officially no more.

The glass cube that was to replace the main Moray Pl entrance to the Dunedin Town Hall has been dropped from the plans, and it will not be missed.

In a way, the cube represented the serious weakness at the council over recent years; grandiose plans and little expense spared. The council had to pick and choose carefully its projects when faced with sewerage and water upgrades and stadium spending. It not only had to be smart and frugal but also be prepared to reject many worthy ideas, let alone flights of fancy.

The council did respond to the outcry about the development and its effect on Harrop St and came back in 2009 with fresh plans for a $45 million revamp of the Dunedin Centre, including the town hall.

When these were announced the cube was seen as something really special. The architect said the design philosophy for the cube was "one of detachment". It would be attached to the hall only where three doors provided access, and it would reveal the building's facade in a much better way than the existing entrance. It would have "giant pivot doors" and was basically a collection or flow-through point for hall visitors.

The cube, at that time, was presented in the context of the glass pyramid at the Louvre museum in Paris and glass additions to the Reichstad in Berlin.

While it is fair to note that such additions - as well as architectural masterpieces like the Sydney Opera House - almost always cause an uproar and sometimes opposition just has to be faced down and outlasted, the cube was not in that league. As well, it failed to fit with the style of the town hall and Dunedin.

There are plenty of examples where the innovative and unusual turns out to be unloved, impractical and a disappointment.

The latest reports seem to indicate that time would have shattered any illusions about the cube. The basic concern is whether it would have performed satisfactorily as an entranceway, as a place to meet, gather and proceed easily into and out of the hall itself.

We are now told that, although the design aimed to provide a collection or flow-through point, it essentially provided a space "that didn't serve any real purpose". The 80sq m of space amounted to a "very expensive glass veranda", the city's property manager now says.

It certainly looks as though, in its conception, form trumped function. Further, a consultant warned of possible problems with condensation in winter and heat in summer.

Such startling changes in attitude must prompt alarm and scepticism about advice sought and given to the council and councillors in this and other instances. If the cube was so inadequate how did it become such a centrepiece in the first place? Given its failings, why was it not dropped much sooner?

The so-called "eyebrow", the 1980s add-on, has its practical limitations as anyone crowded in that area and around the stairs well knows. Nevertheless, financial constraints means it either has to stay as it is now, or what is described as a "modest" upgrade could create a more usable space.

Another option is a more elaborate two-level stone and glass entrance which it is acknowledged would be a "much more significant decision". Yes indeed. Effort and money must go into completing a good job on the Dunedin Centre and extravagant plans must wait.

The cube was re-examined as the council endeavoured to save money on the project, and its removal will shave up to $2.6 million off the cost. Reviews of the Glenroy Auditorium upgrade had found $3 million in savings and more costs are expected to be cut when the town hall design is examined.

Without recent price pressure, the "Rolls-Royce" design, glass pyramid and all, could well have continued. Yet, the plans got so far at a time when it was already obvious council costs and debts were far too high. Imagine, though, if the cube had been constructed. It might just then have had one unintended purpose.

As citizens looked back on this period of Dunedin's history, the cube could have stood as a sorry symbol of profligacy.

 

 

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