What especially attracts you in conversion projects like that of the Hôtel-Dieu Marseille?
Even if it seems a paradox, I find, today, that these are the projects that allow the most creativity. Yes, there are constraints, but they become sources of inspiration, and opportunities. From an architectural point of view, and more especially where the volumes of space are concerned, they’re the most interesting projects as they are much less standardised than in new-builds. It’s only there that you find the large atriums or the high ceilings, where it’s possible to place a bar under a 32-metre ceiling without it causing an outcry! Beyond the style and the era, the characteristics of those buildings give more quality to their spaces. I also like to imagine projects which reflect ourselves, which echo what we are, and these conversions form part of that spirit, all the more so because we are attached to our history, our heritage. It’s our DNA. So, there is a balance to be found between heritage and modernity which makes the research and the work of design more subtle. My parents liked contemporary art, while living in old houses; I was immersed in that blend, so it must be written somewhere in my genes.
What guiding principle underlies your design work?
I start always from one premise; I want to affirm the new function of the place through its modernity. Respecting the heritage is one thing but if, on the other hand, the building changes its function, we must not create a pastiche in the desire to evoke the past at any price. We can, of course, do that, but without it becoming a hindrance. To have roots is not to say that we cannot live in our times. So I approach the architecture and the decoration from that angle, in trying never to create a historical reconstitution. The project unfolds naturally from that dialogue between the old and the new history of the place. My project in Marseille was a Hôtel-Dieu as it was originally, a place conceived for caring for the disinherited. I find it would have been indecent to bring superfluous luxury here, to go for glitter. There’s a natural restraint that emanates from the place.
What was the recurring theme of your work at the Hôtel-Dieu Marseille?
In an era when too much decor kills the decor, I’ve tried here, as in all my projects, to find the right note, to avoid shams and pastiche, mannerisms or instant impacts. As in literature or poetry, we must find the balance of the phrase, the precision of the word, to attain a fragment of emotion. I am not for soulless minimalism - I’m on a quest for meaning and truth, seeking, doubtless, to prove that decoration is not superficial but, on the contrary, a living expression rooted in its time.
What were your sources of inspiration?
When I started work on the project, I didn’t know the city very well. What struck me, while discovering it, is its mineral character; the stone appears very white under the sun, sharply different to the Mediterranean tones. That sensation of contrast was a real source of inspiration, especially for the high part, where I worked with the stone in the walls or in the floors, and where the sculpted panels of the master glassmaker, Bernard Pictet, placed in perspective in the entrance, express the play of light and the sparkle of the sea, like so many virtual windows inviting the gaze to take flight.
How did you work with the hotel entrance?
The glass ceiling, which offers a low-angle view towards the façade of the Hôtel-Dieu, is the only element contributed by the architecture. It forms a composition axis enhanced by the pillars that structure and organise the space. Great vases, harking back to amphorae and specially designed for the project, support the composition. The space is not historic; there is no high ceiling or cornice or classic vocabulary. On the contrary, its quality as the foundation of a building carved in the hill is consciously embraced. The tones of stone and slate prolong the range of colours of the city, echoing Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde and the Cathédrale de la Major.
Interview by Jordi Patillon.
© Jean-François Jaussaud