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Svalbard’s Glacier Beer Debuts Next Week

Svalbard’s Glacier Beer Debuts Next Week


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The world’s northernmost brewery makes beer from glacier water

Svalbard is home to the world's northernmost beer brewery.

The Arctic island of Svalbard is located about halfway between Norway and the North Pole, and it is about to become home to the world’s “most northerly brewed beer” now that authorities have repealed a brewing ban that had been in place for 80 years.

According to The Local, Svalbard banned brewing in 1928 because the authorities did not want local coal miners getting drunk and rambunctious in the town. That brewing ban was just removed last year, and now master brewer Andreas Hegermann Riis has developed two local beers at the Svalbard Brewery, which is officially the world’s northernmost brewery. Riis says he has produced an IPA and a wheat beer, both called Spitsbergen, and together he has about 8,000 liters ready to be packaged this weekend. Both will be put into cans so tourists can safely take them out on excursions.

The beer is made with water from the local glacier, which Riis says he hopes will give the beer a unique, hyper-local flavor. After the IPA and the wheat beer, Riis says he’s looking forward to making a stout, a pilsner, and more.

“Anything in time we will experiment with, just like a proper craft beer brewery should do,” he said.

The beers will be introduced next Friday at the Coal Miner’s Cabin in Svalbard.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


SFMOMA's new wing is no masterpiece, but it has real joys

When the architects at Snøhetta won the 2010 competition to design the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art&rsquos immense new wing, museum Director Neal Benezra likened the firm&rsquos concept to &ldquosomewhere between an intellectual exercise and a practical proposal.&rdquo

Six years later, the $305 million makeover is complete &mdash and that initial verdict still holds.

The building that opens to the public May 14 is an ambitious merger that seeks to engage the city both inside and out, while offering moments of serendipity amid a daunting 3-plus acres of indoor gallery space.

Inside and out, there are sublime smaller touches that show us why Snøhetta won the job, and why the firm is now on the short list to design President Obama&rsquos library in Chicago. But several major aspects seem forced, like a collection of problems being solved rather than an architectural creation that fits right in.

There&rsquos no more obvious example than the first thing you&rsquore likely to notice: the slumped form of the addition and its unusual skin.

The new wing rises behind the red-brick citadel that opened in 1995 on Third Street across from Yerba Buena Gardens, and the sections look as different as can be. The original was designed by Swiss architect Mario Botta, with such monumental touches as an oculus of zebra-striped granite to catch the eye at a time when this part of town was defined by parking lots. The addition, by contrast, squeezes into a long thin site that begins next to a hotel tower on Howard Street.

Instead of trying to one-up Botta&rsquos drama, Snøhetta packs the museum&rsquos extra space into a 10-story slab that folds back from the oculus on the west and is tapered on the east, as if deferring to the neighbors. And instead of red brick, it wears an off-white cloak of fiberglass-reinforced polymer panels that are rippled on the east and west facades to accentuate the shift of shadows and sun throughout the day.

As slabs go, this one is chubby, with a midriff bulge that contains the new gallery space. Nor does Snøhetta try to camouflage the girth. Instead, the firm treats it as a sculptural presence &mdash &ldquoan odd piece of geology, almost like standing at the cliffs of Yosemite,&rdquo suggests co-founder Craig Dykers. &ldquoWe wanted to bring a bit of nature to the city, something that architecture often doesn&rsquot do.&rdquo

This naturalistic approach is one Snøhetta has used elsewhere, including the glacier-like opera house in Oslo, where Snøhetta was founded. The catch is, a skin of conventional stone or precast concrete would have been too heavy (and expensive). So Snøhetta worked with facade manufacturer Kreysler and Associates of American Canyon to find a lightweight substitute.

The solution was ingenious, malleable enough to allow the intricate creases. It&rsquos also obviously artificial, with the open seams between each of the 700-plus panels plain to see, looking as though you could pry one off and carry it home. As for the north and south facades, which aren&rsquot rippled, they have a sheen that makes them appear almost shellacked.

Members of the press get a preview of the renovated San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. The museum opens to the public May 14. Tim Hussin/The Chronicle

There&rsquos awkwardness of a different sort inside the building where the old and new wings meet.

The museum now has two entrances &mdash one on Third Street through Botta&rsquos cave-like portal, and the other down a path and up a staircase from Howard Street. The former involves a trek through the now-redundant sky-lit atrium the latter takes you past a glassed-in gallery that holds Richard Serra&rsquos giant coiled steel &ldquoSequence.&rdquo Each leads to the new Helen and Charles Schwab Hall on the second floor, where the ticketed journey begins.

Snøhetta probably did the best job it could fitting the two pieces together, especially since the entry sequence concludes above the loading docks at Natoma Street. But it&rsquos an odd set of transitions: a formal front door that leads into an underused space or an alley-like detour from the sidewalk that first-time visitors could easily miss.

Challenging entry

Clouds are reflected in the SFMOMA panels facing Howard Street. Suzuki/The Chronicle

Both the entry sequence and the new wing&rsquos skin testify to the challenge faced by Snøhetta and its associate architect, local firm EHDD. They needed to pack nearly a half-million square feet of space into a constrained package and create a memorable destination without starting from scratch. So we have two very large structures attached at the hip, an architectural marriage of convenience.

But if not everything comes together with ease, individual details add up to a compelling whole.

There are hints outside, such as the fusion of old and new on Minna Street where Snøhetta tucks the after-hours entrance into a deep base of black lava that lines up smoothly with Botta&rsquos brickwork. It&rsquos a small but wholly satisfying junction, the one exterior moment where Snohetta embraces the challenge of meeting Botta on his own terms.


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Comments:

  1. Arashile

    I liked everything, only if they gave more money for the lecture or held a competition, it would be great.

  2. Murrough

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  3. Corwan

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  4. Halsig

    Bravo, you just visited a wonderful idea

  5. JoJojin

    I congratulate, a remarkable idea

  6. Oscar

    whether there are analogs?



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