What does the roof of the Sydney Opera House resemble? Sydney Opera House

The Sydney Opera House is one of the most famous buildings of the 20th century and is by far Australia's most popular architectural structure in the style. It is located on Sydney Harbour, close to the huge Harbor Bridge. The unusual silhouette of the Sydney Opera House resembles a row of sails soaring above the surface of the sea. Nowadays, smooth lines in architecture are quite common, but it was the Sydney Theater that became one of the first buildings on the planet with such a radical design. Its distinctive feature is its recognizable shape, which includes a number of identical “shells” or “shells”.

The history of the theater's creation is full of drama. It all started in 1955, when the state government of which Sydney is the capital announced an international architectural competition. From the very beginning, great hopes were placed on the construction - it was planned that the implementation of an ambitious project to create a new magnificent theater would serve as an impetus for the development of culture on the Australian continent. The competition attracted the attention of many famous architects around the world: the organizers received 233 applications from 28 countries. As a result, the government chose one of the most striking and unusual projects, the author of which was the Danish architect Jorn Utzon. An interesting designer and thinker in search of new means of expression, Utzon designed a building that seemed to “come from the world of fantasy,” as the architect himself said.

In 1957, Utzon arrived in Sydney, and two years later construction of the theater began. There were many unforeseen difficulties associated with the start of work. It turned out that Utzon's project was not sufficiently developed, the design as a whole turned out to be unstable, and the engineers could not find an acceptable solution to implement the bold idea.

Another failure is an error in the construction of the foundation. As a result, it was decided to destroy the original version and start all over again. Meanwhile, the architect attached paramount importance to the foundation: in his design there were no walls as such, the roof vaults rested directly on the plane of the foundation.

Initially, Utzon believed that his idea could be realized quite simply: make sinks from reinforcing mesh, and then cover them with tiles on top. But calculations showed that this method would not be suitable for a giant roof. Engineers tried different shapes - parabolic, ellipsoidal, but without success. Time passed, money melted, customer dissatisfaction grew. Utzon, in desperation, drew dozens of different options over and over again. Finally, one fine day, it dawned on him: his gaze accidentally stopped at orange peels in the form of the usual triangular segments. This was the very form that the designers had been looking for for so long! Roof vaults, which are parts of a sphere of constant curvature, have the necessary strength and stability.

After Utzon found a solution to the problem with the roof vaults, construction resumed, but the financial costs turned out to be more significant than originally planned. According to preliminary estimates, the construction of the building required 4 years. But it took 14 long years to build. The construction budget was exceeded by more than 14 times. Customers' dissatisfaction grew so much that at a certain point they removed Utzon from work. The brilliant architect left for Denmark, never to return to Sydney. He never saw his creation, despite the fact that over time everything fell into place, and his talent and contribution to the construction of the theater was recognized not only in Australia, but throughout the world. The interior design of the Sydney Theater was done by other architects, so there is a difference between the exterior of the building and its interior.

As a result, the roof segments, seemingly crashing into each other, were made of precast and monolithic reinforced concrete. The surface of the concrete “orange peels” was covered with a huge number of tiles made in Sweden. The tiles are coated with a matte glaze, allowing the roof of the Sydney Theater to be used today as a reflective screen for video art and the projection of vibrant images. The roof panels of the Sydney Opera House were built using special cranes ordered from France - the theater was one of the first buildings in Australia to be erected using cranes. And the highest “shell” of the roof corresponds to the height of a 22-story building.

Construction of the Sydney Opera House was officially completed in 1973. The theater was opened by Queen Elizabeth II, the grand opening was accompanied by fireworks and a performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. The first performance performed in the new theater was S. Prokofiev’s opera “War and Peace”.

Today the Sydney Opera House is Australia's largest cultural center. It hosts more than 3 thousand events annually, and has an annual audience of 2 million viewers. The theater program includes an opera called “The Eighth Miracle”, which tells about difficult history construction of the building.

At the heart of the Opera House project is the desire to bring people from the world of daily routine to the world of fantasy, where musicians and actors live.
Jorn Utzon, July 1964.

Two fragments of a jagged roof on the Olympic emblem - and the whole world knows in which city the Games will be held. The Sydney Opera House is the only building of the 20th century that stands on a par with such great architectural symbols of the 19th century as Big Ben, the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Along with the Hagia Sophia and the Taj Mahal, this building belongs to the highest cultural achievements of the last millennium. How did it happen that Sydney - even in the opinion of Australians, is by no means the most beautiful and elegant city in the world - got this miracle? And why didn't any other city compete with it? Why is it that most modern cities are a jumble of ugly skyscrapers, while our attempts to mark the end of the outgoing millennium by creating an architectural masterpiece have failed miserably?

Before the Opera House, Sydney boasted its world-class famous bridge. Painted a sullen gray, it looms like a Calvinist conscience over a city that was intended to be King George's Gulag and still cannot free itself from the powerful influence of a small island on the other side of the world. One glance at our Bridge is enough to make you not want to look at it a second time. The construction of this substantial structure almost bankrupted the British company Dorman, Long and Co. The Bridge's granite piers, enlarged replicas of Cenotaph 1 on Whitehall, don't actually support anything, but their construction helped Yorkshire's Middlesbrough survive the Depression. But even decorated with the Olympic rings and huge Australian flags, the Sydney Bridge is now nothing more than a proscenium, for the gaze of tourists is irresistibly drawn to the wonderful silhouette of the Opera House, which seems to float above blue waters harbor This creation of daring architectural fantasy easily dwarfs the largest steel arch in the world.

Like Sydney itself, the Opera House was invented by the British. In 1945, Sir Eugene Goossens, a violinist and composer, arrived in Australia and was invited by the Australian Broadcasting Board (then headed by another refined Briton, Sir Charles Moses) to conduct a recording of a concert series. Goossens discovered local residents“an unusually passionate interest” in the musical arts, but there was practically nowhere to satisfy it except the Sydney Town Hall, whose architecture resembled a “wedding cake” in the spirit of the Second Empire, with poor acoustics and a hall with only 2,500 seats. Like many other visitors, Goossens was struck by Sydney's indifference to the city's magnificent skyline and its fondness for hackneyed European ideas that arose in a completely different historical and cultural context. This “cultural subservience” was later reflected in the row over the foreign-designed Opera House.

Goossens, that lover of bohemian life and tireless bon vivant, knew what was missing here: a palace for opera, ballet, theater and concerts - “society must be aware of modern musical achievements.” In the company of Kurt Langer, a city planner originally from Vienna, he combed the entire city with true missionary fervor in search of a suitable site. They chose the rocky headland of Bennelong Point near the Circular Quay, a junction where residents transferred from ferries to trains and buses. On this cape, named after an Australian Aborigine, a friend of the first Sydney governor, stood Fort Macquarie - a real monster, a late Victorian counterfeit of antiquity. Behind its powerful walls with loopholes and crenellated turrets hid a modest institution - the central tram depot. A short period of citizens' fascination with Sydney's criminal past was yet to come. “And thank God,” as one visitor noted, “otherwise they would have included even the tram depot as an architectural monument!” Goossens considered the location “ideal.” He dreamed of a huge hall for 3500-4000 spectators, in which all Sydneysiders who had suffered without music could finally quench their cultural thirst.

The first “convert” was G. Ingham Ashworth, a former British colonel and then professor of architecture at the University of Sydney. If he understood anything, it was more likely in Indian barracks than in opera houses, but, once succumbing to the charm of Goossens’ idea, he became its faithful adept and stubborn defender. Ashworth introduced Goossens to John Joseph Cahill, a descendant of Irish immigrants who was soon to become the Labor premier of New South Wales. An expert in behind-the-scenes politics who dreamed of bringing art to the masses, Cahill secured the support of the Australian public for the aristocrats' plan - many still call the Opera House "Taj Cahill". He brought in another opera lover, Stan Haviland, head of the Sydney Water Authority. The ice has broken.

On 17 May 1955, the State Government gave permission for the construction of an Opera House at Bennelong Point on the condition that no public funds would be required. An international competition was announced for the building design. The following year, Cahill's cabinet managed with great difficulty to remain in power for a second three-year term. Time was running out, but sanctimonious, provincial New South Wales was already preparing the first retaliatory blow to the fighters for the culturalization of Sydney. Some unknown person called Moses and warned that the luggage of Goossens, who had gone abroad to study opera houses, would be searched at Sydney Airport - then, in the pre-drug era, this was unheard of unceremoniousness. Moses did not tell his friend about this, and upon his return, Black Mass paraphernalia was found in Goossens' suitcases, including rubber masks shaped like genitals. It turned out that the musician sometimes whiled away boring Sydney evenings in the company of black magic lovers led by a certain Rosalyn (Rowe) Norton, a very famous person in relevant circles. Goossens claimed that the ritual paraphernalia (which would not be even glanced at today at Sydney's annual Gay and Lesbian Ball) was foisted on him by blackmailers. He was fined a hundred pounds, resigned as conductor of the new Sydney Symphony Orchestra and went back to England, where he died in sadness and obscurity. Thus the Opera House lost its first, most eloquent and influential supporter.

223 works were submitted to the competition - the world was clearly interested in the fresh idea. Before the scandal broke, Goossens managed to select a jury that included four professional architects: his friend Ashworth; Leslie Martin, co-creator of London's Festival Hall; Finnish-American Ero Saarinen, who recently abandoned the boring “linear” design and began to master the new technology of “concrete shells” with its sculptural possibilities; and Gobden Parkes, chairman of the State Government's Architecture Committee, symbolically representing the Australians. Goossens and Moses formulated the terms of the competition. Although they spoke of the Opera House in the singular, it was supposed to have two halls: one very large, for concerts and lavish productions like operas by Wagner or Puccini, and another smaller one for chamber operas, dramatic performances and ballets; plus warehouses for storing props and premises for rehearsal rooms and restaurants. Traveling around Europe, Goossens saw the consequences of such numerous demands: the clumsy construction of theaters had to be hidden behind a high façade and a featureless rear. For the Sydney Opera House, which was supposed to be built on a peninsula surrounded by water and an urban area of high-rise buildings, this solution was not suitable.

All but one of the contenders began by trying to solve an obvious problem: how to fit two opera houses on a small piece of land measuring 250 by 350 feet, surrounded on three sides by water? The French writer Françoise Fromoneau, who calls the Opera building one of the “great projects” that were never realized in its intended form, in her book “Jorn Utzon: Sydney Opera” introduces the reader to the winners of the second and third prizes (from their works it is quite possible to judge projects of all other competition participants). The second-place group of American architects arranged the theaters back-to-back, combining their stages in one central tower, and tried to smooth out the unwanted “pair of shoes” effect with the help of a spiral structure on pylons. The British project, which received third place, bears a noticeable resemblance to New York's Lincoln Center - here the theaters stand one after the other on a huge paved area. But, as Robert Frost said, in the very idea of theater there is “something that does not tolerate walls.” No matter where you look, the buildings represented by these projects look like disguised factories for the production of consumer goods or the same meat pies, for an inexplicable reason put on public display - in fact, these are doubles of the tram depot condemned to death.

In only one competition entry, the theaters are placed close to each other, and the problem of walls is eliminated thanks to their absence: a series of fan-shaped white roofs are attached directly to the Cyclopean podium. The author of the project proposed storing the scenery in special recesses made in a massive platform: this was how the problem of the backstage was solved. The pile of rejected projects grew, and the jury members returned to this strikingly original work for the umpteenth time. They say that Saarinen even hired a boat to show his colleagues how the building would look from the water. On January 29, 1957, a beaming Joe Cahill announced the result. The winner was a thirty-eight-year-old Dane who lived with his family in a romantic corner near Hamlet’s Elsinore, in a house built according to his own design (this was one of the architect’s few plans that were realized). The laureate's difficult-to-pronounce name, which meant nothing to most Sydneysiders, was Jorn Utzon.

There was an unusual fate behind the original project. Like all Danes, Utzon grew up by the sea. His father Aage, who designed yachts, taught his sons to sail on the Öresund. Jorn spent his childhood on the water, among unfinished models and unfinished boat hulls in his father's shipyard. Years later, a crane operator working on the construction of the Opera House, seeing it from a bird's eye view, would say to Sydney artist Emerson Curtis: “There's not a single right angle there, mate! A ship, and that’s all!” Young Utzon at first thought to follow his father’s path, but poor academic performance, a consequence of dyslexia, crossed out this intention, instilling in him an unjustified sense of inferiority. Two artists from his grandmother’s circle of friends taught the young man to draw and observe nature, and on the advice of his sculptor uncle, he entered the Royal Danish Academy, which at that time (1937) was in a state of aesthetic ferment: the heavy, ornate forms of Ibsen’s era were giving way to pure , the light lines of modern Scandinavia. Sydney was lucky that Utzon's talent was formed during the Second World War, when commercial construction almost stopped. As in all modern cities, the center of Sydney became a business district where thousands of people gathered. Thanks to the advent of the elevator, one and the same piece of land could be rented out simultaneously to sixty, or even a hundred, in short, God knows how many tenants, and cities began to grow upward. Sometimes in modern megacities you come across original buildings that can capture the imagination (for example, Beaubourg in Paris), but basically their appearance is determined by the same type of skyscrapers with a steel frame and panel walls from a construction catalogue. For the first time in the history of mankind, the most beautiful cities in the world are becoming like twins.

During the war, Utzon studied in Denmark, then in Sweden, and could not participate in commercial projects to create such featureless structures. Instead, he began sending his works to competitions - after the war, the construction of all kinds of public buildings revived. In 1945, together with a fellow student, he was awarded the Small Gold Medal for his design of a concert hall for Copenhagen. The structure, which remained on paper, was supposed to be erected on a special platform. Utzon borrowed this idea from classical Chinese architecture. Chinese palaces stood on podiums, the height of which corresponded to the greatness of the rulers, and the length of the flights of stairs to the scale of their power. According to Utzon, such platforms had their advantage: they emphasized the detachment of timeless art from the bustle of the city. Utzon and his colleague crowned the concert hall with a copper-clad concrete “shell”, the outer profile of which followed the shape of the sound-reflecting ceiling inside the structure. This student work already foreshadowed the stunning success that befell its author in Sydney eleven years later.

In 1946, Utzon took part in another competition - to erect a building on the site of the Crystal Palace in London, built by Sir Joseph Paxton in 1851 and burned down in 1936. England was lucky that the project that took first place was not implemented and the structure, reminiscent of the famous Baths of Caracalla of another dying empire, Ancient Rome, was never built. Compositional elements of the Sydney Opera were already visible in Utzon's work. “Poetic and inspired,” said the English architect Maxwell Fry about this project, “but more like a dream than a reality.” There is already a hint here that sooner or later Utzon’s originality will come into conflict with the earthiness of less refined natures. Of the remaining projects, only one could be compared in technical audacity with the Crystal Palace: two Britons, Clive Entwistle and Ove Arup, proposed a pyramid of glass and concrete. Far ahead of his time, Entwistle, following the Greek proverb “The gods see on all sides,” proposed turning the roof into a “fifth façade”: “The ambiguity of the pyramid is especially interesting. Such a building faces the sky and the horizon in equal measure... New architecture not only needs sculpture, it becomes sculpture itself.” The Fifth Façade is the essence of the Sydney Opera House idea. Perhaps due to school failures, Denmark never truly became a home for Utzon. In the late 40s, the Utzons visited Greece and Morocco, drove around the United States in an old car, and visited Frank Lloyd Wright, Saarinen and Mies van der Rohe, who honored the young architect with a “minimalist” interview. Apparently, in communicating with people, he professed the same principles of strict functionality as in architecture: turning away from his guest, Van der Rohe dictated short answers to questions to the secretary, who repeated them loudly. Then the family went to Mexico to look at the Aztec temples in Oaxaca's Monte Alban and Yucatan's Chichen Itza. These stunning ruins sit on massive platforms reached by wide staircases, seeming to float above a sea of jungle that stretches to the horizon. Utzon was looking for architectural masterpieces that were equally attractive inside and out and at the same time were not the product of any one culture (he sought to create architecture that would absorb elements of different cultures). It’s hard to imagine a more striking antithesis to the British austerity of the Harbor Bridge than Utzon’s Sydney Opera House, and a better emblem for a growing city that aspires to a new synthesis of cultures could not be found. In any case, none of the other participants in the 1957 competition came close to the laureate.

The entire Sydney elite was fascinated by the winning project, and even more so by its author, who first visited the city in July 1957. (Utzon extracted all the necessary information about the construction site from nautical charts.) “Our Gary Cooper!” - one Sydney lady involuntarily burst out when she saw a tall, blue-eyed blond man and heard his exotic Scandinavian accent, which contrasted favorably with the rough local pronunciation. Although the project presented was actually a sketch, a certain Sydney firm estimated the cost of the work at three and a half million pounds. “It doesn’t get any cheaper!” cackled the Sydney Morning Herald. Utzon volunteered to start collecting funds by selling kisses for a hundred pounds apiece, but this playful offer had to be abandoned, and the money was raised in a more conventional way - through a lottery, thanks to which the building funds increased by a hundred thousand pounds in two weeks. Utzon returned to Denmark, put together a project team there, and things took off. “We were like a jazz orchestra - everyone knew exactly what was required of them,” recalls one of Utzon’s associates, Jon Lundberg, in the wonderful documentary The Edge of Possibility. “We spent seven absolutely happy years together.”

The jury chose Utzon's design, believing that his sketches could be used to “build one of the greatest buildings in the world,” but at the same time, the experts noted that his drawings were “too simple and more like sketches.” Here there is an implicit hint of difficulties that have not been overcome to this day. The two side-by-side buildings are accessed by a huge, dramatic staircase, which together creates an unforgettable overall silhouette. However, there was virtually no room left for traditional side scenes. In addition, for opera productions, a hall with a short reverberation time (about 1.2 seconds) was necessary so that the singers' words did not merge, and for a large orchestra this time should be approximately two seconds, provided that the sound was partially reflected from the side walls. Utzon proposed raising the scenery from the pits behind the stage (this idea could be achieved thanks to the presence of a massive podium), and the shell roofs should be shaped in such a way that all acoustic requirements were satisfied. Love of music, technical ingenuity and vast experience in building opera houses make Germany a world leader in the field of acoustics, and Utzon was very wise to invite Walter Unruh from Berlin as an expert in this field.

The New South Wales government invited Ove Arup's design firm to collaborate with Utzon. The two Danes got along well - perhaps too well, because by the second of March 1959, when Joe Cahill laid the first stone of the new building, the main engineering problems had not yet been solved. Less than a year later, Cahill died. “He adored Utzon for his talent and integrity, and Utzon admired his calculating patron because at heart he was a real dreamer,” writes Fromono. Shortly thereafter, Ove Arup stated that 3,000 hours of work and 1,500 hours of machine time (computers were just beginning to be used in architecture) did not help to find a technical solution to implement Utzon's idea, which proposed building roofs in the form of huge free-form shells. “From a design point of view, its design is simply naive,” said the London designers.

Utzon himself saved the future pride of Sydney. At first, he intended to “make shells from reinforcing mesh, dust and cover with tiles” - something like the way his sculptor uncle made mannequins, but this technique was completely unsuitable for the huge roof of the theater. Utzon's design team and Arup's designers tried dozens of options for parabolas, ellipsoids and more exotic surfaces, but they all turned out to be unsuitable. One day in 1961, a deeply disappointed Utzon was dismantling yet another unusable model and folding up the “shells” to put them away for storage, when suddenly an original idea struck him (perhaps his dyslexia should be thanked for this). Similar in shape, the shells fit more or less well into one pile. What surface, Utzon asked himself, has constant curvature? Spherical. The sinks can be made from triangular sections of an imaginary concrete ball with a diameter of 492 feet, and these sections in turn can be assembled from smaller curved triangles, industrially manufactured and pre-tiled on site. The result is a multi-layer vault - a structure known for its strength and stability. So, the roof problem was solved.

Subsequently, this decision of Utzon became the reason for his dismissal. But the Dane’s genius cannot be denied. The tiles were laid mechanically, and the roofs turned out to be perfectly level (this would have been impossible to achieve manually). That is why the reflections of the sun reflected from the water play so beautifully on them. Since any cross-section of the vaults is part of a circle, the outlines of the roofs have the same shape, and the building looks very harmonious. If the fanciful roofs could be erected according to Utzon's original sketch, the theater would seem like a lightweight toy compared to the mighty bridge nearby. Now the appearance of the building is created by the straight lines of the staircase and podium in combination with the circles of the roofs - a simple and strong design in which the influences of China, Mexico, Greece, Morocco, Denmark and God knows what else have merged, turning this whole vinaigrette from different styles into a single whole . The aesthetic principles used by Utzon offered an answer to the key question facing any modern architect: how to combine functionality and plastic grace and satisfy people's craving for beauty in our industrial age. Fromoneau notes that Utzon moved away from the “organic style” fashionable at the time, which, in the words of its discoverer Frank Lloyd Wright, prescribed “holding onto reality with both hands.” Unlike the American architect, Utzon wanted to understand what new means of expression an artist could find in our time, when machines have everywhere replaced humans.

Meanwhile, the new shape of the roofs created new difficulties. The taller ones no longer satisfied the acoustic requirements; separate sound-reflecting ceilings had to be designed. The holes of the “shells” facing the bay had to be closed with something; From an aesthetic point of view, this was a difficult task (since the walls should not look too bare and give the impression that they were supporting vaults) and, according to Utzon, could only be achieved with the help of plywood. By luck, an ardent supporter of this material, inventor and industrialist Ralph Symonds, was found in Sydney. When he grew tired of making furniture, he bought a disused abattoir on Homebush Bay, near the Olympic Stadium. There he made roofs for Sydney trains from single sheets of plywood measuring 45 by 8 feet, at that time the largest in the world. By coating plywood with a thin layer of bronze, lead and aluminum, Symonds created new materials in any desired shape, size and strength, with any desired weather resistance and acoustic properties. This is exactly what Utzon needed to complete the Opera House.

Constructing sound-reflecting ceilings from pieces of regular geometric shapes turned out to be more difficult than the roof vaults that Utzon liked to demonstrate by cutting orange peels into pieces. He studied for a long time and carefully the treatise “Ying Zao Fa Shi” on prefabricated consoles supporting the roofs of Chinese temples. However, the principle of repetition underlying the new architectural style required the use of industrial technology with which it was possible to produce homogeneous elements. Ultimately, Utzon's design team settled on the following idea: if you rolled an imaginary drum about six hundred feet in diameter down an inclined plane, it would leave a trail of continuous grooves. Such troughs, which were supposed to be made at Symonds's factory from equally curved parts, would simultaneously reflect sound and draw the audience's eyes towards the proscenium arches of the Great and Small Halls. It turned out that the ceilings (as well as the concrete elements of the roofs) could be made in advance, and then transported wherever needed on barges - in much the same way that unfinished ship hulls were delivered to the Utzon Sr. shipyard. The largest trough, corresponding to the lowest notes of the organ, had to be 140 feet long.

Utzon wanted to paint the acoustic ceilings in very impressive colors: scarlet and gold in the Great Hall, blue and silver in the Small Hall (a combination he borrowed from the coral fish of the Great Barrier Reef). After consulting with Symonds, he decided to close the mouths of the “shells” with giant glass walls with plywood mullions attached to the ribs of the vault and curved to match the shape of the vestibules located below. Light and durable, like the wing of a seabird, the entire structure, thanks to the play of light, was supposed to create a feeling of mystery, the unpredictability of what lies inside. Passionate about invention, Utzon, together with Symonds' engineers, designed toilets, railings, doors - all from a magical new material.

The experience of an architect and an industrialist working together using cutting-edge technology was unfamiliar to Australians. Although, in fact, this is just a modernized version of the old European tradition - the collaboration of medieval architects with skilled masons. In the era of universal religiosity, serving God required complete dedication from a person. Time and money didn't matter. One modern masterpiece is still being built according to these principles: the Expiatory Church of the Holy Family (Sagrada Familia) by the Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi was founded in 1882, Gaudi himself died in 1926, and construction is still not completed and is only moving forward. How Barcelona enthusiasts are raising the necessary funds. For some time it seemed that the old days had returned, only now people served not God, but art: ardent fans of Utzon bought lottery tickets, donating fifty thousand pounds a week, and thus freeing taxpayers from the financial burden. Meanwhile, clouds were gathering over the architect and his creation.

The first estimate of the project's cost of three and a half million pounds was made "by eye" by a reporter who was in a hurry to submit an article for typesetting. It turned out that even the cost of the first contract - for the construction of the foundation and podium - estimated at 2.75 million pounds, is much lower than the real one. Joe Cahill's haste to start the building before all the engineering problems had been solved was politically justifiable - Labor was losing popularity - but it forced the designers to make random decisions about the load that the as yet undesigned vaults would place on the podium. When Utzon decided to make the roofs spherical, he had to blow up the existing foundation and lay a new, more durable one. In January 1963, a contract for the construction of roofs was awarded at a cost of 6.25 million pounds - another example of unjustified optimism. Three months later, when Utzon moved to Sydney, the allowable spending limit was raised to 12.5 million.

Rising costs and the slow pace of construction were not lost on those who met in Sydney's oldest public building, Parliament House, which was called the "drinking shop" because the prisoners and convicts who built it worked only for drinks. Since then, corruption in Welsh political circles has remained the talk of the town. On the very first day when the winner of the competition was announced, and even earlier, a wave of criticism arose. Rural residents, traditionally opposed to Sydneysiders, did not like the fact that most of the money ended up in the capital, even if it was raised through the lottery. Competing contractors were jealous of Symonds and other entrepreneurs whom Utzon favored. It is known that the great Frank Lloyd Wright (he was already approaching ninety) reacted to his project this way: “A whim, and nothing more!”, And the first architect of Australia, Harry Seidler, who failed in the competition, on the contrary, was delighted and sent Utzon a telegram : “Pure poetry. Fabulous!" However, few of the 119 aggrieved Australians whose applications were rejected were as generous as Zeidler.

In 1965, drought struck inland New South Wales. Promising to "get to the bottom of this Opera House imbroglio", the parliamentary opposition said the remainder of the lottery money would be used to build schools, roads and hospitals. In May 1965, after twenty-four years in power, Labor was defeated in the elections. New Prime Minister Robert Askin rejoiced: “The whole pie is now ours, guys!” - bearing in mind that now nothing prevents you from making good money from the income from brothels, casinos and illegal betting, controlled by the Sydney police. Utzon was forced to resign as head of construction and leave Sydney forever. The next seven years and huge sums of money were spent disfiguring his masterpiece.

Recounting further events with bitterness, Philip Drew, the author of a book about Utzon, reports that immediately after the elections, Askin lost all interest in the Opera House and barely mentioned it until his death in 1981 (we note, by the way, that he died multimillionaire). According to Drew, the role of the main villain in this story belongs to the Minister of Public Works, Davis Hughes, a former school teacher from provincial Orange, who, like Utzon, is still alive. Referring to documents, Drew accuses him of plotting to remove Utzon even before the elections. Called to the carpet by Hughes, fully confident that the Minister of Public Works would talk about sewers, dams and bridges, Utzon did not sense any danger. Moreover, he was flattered to see that the new minister's office was hung with sketches and photographs of his creation. "I decided that Hughes doted on my Opera House," he recalled years later. In a sense, this was true. Hughes personally took charge of the investigation into the "Opera scandal" promised during the election campaign, and did not overlook a single detail. Looking for a way to bring down Utzon, he turned to government architect Bill Wood. He advised to suspend monthly cash payments, without which Utzon could not continue working. Hughes then demanded detailed drawings of the building be submitted to him for approval in order to hold an open competition for contractors. This mechanism, invented in the 19th century to prevent bribery of government officials, was suitable for laying sewer pipes and building roads, but was completely inapplicable in this case.

The inevitable conclusion came at the beginning of 1966, when £51,626 had to be paid to the designers of the equipment intended for opera productions in the Great Hall. Hughes once again suspended the release of money. In a state of extreme irritation (exacerbated, according to Drew, by the dire financial situation of Utzon himself, who was forced to pay taxes on his earnings to both the Australian and Danish governments), the architect tried to influence Hughes with a veiled threat. Having refused the salary due to him, on February 28, 1966, Utzon informed the minister: “You forced me to leave my post.” As Bill Wheatland, a member of the then design team, followed the architect out of Hughes's office, he turned and saw "the minister leaning over the table, hiding a satisfied grin." That same evening, Hughes called an emergency meeting and announced that Utzon had “resigned” from his position, but that it would not be difficult to complete the Opera House without him. However, there was one obvious problem: Utzon won the competition and became world famous, at least among architects. Hughes had found a replacement for him in advance and appointed in his place thirty-four-year-old Peter Hall from the Ministry of Public Works, who had built several university buildings with public funds. Hall had a long-standing friendly relationship with Utzon and he hoped to enlist his support, but, to his surprise, he was refused. Sydney architecture students, led by an indignant Harry Seidler, picketed the unfinished building with slogans like “Bring Utzon Back!” Most of the government architects, including Peter Hall, submitted a petition to Hughes stating that "from both a technical and an ethical point of view, Utzon is the only person capable of completing the Opera House." Hughes did not flinch, and Hall's appointment went through.

Poorly versed in music and acoustics, Hall and his retinue - now entirely Australian - set off on another tour of opera houses. In New York, expert Ben Schlanger expressed the opinion that it is impossible to stage an opera at all in the Sydney Theater - except in an abbreviated form and only in the Small Hall. Drew proves him wrong: there are plenty of dual-purpose venues with good acoustics, including one in Tokyo designed by the brilliant Dane's former assistant, Yuzo Mikami. The stage equipment that arrived from Europe during Utzon's last days in office was sold for scrap at fifty pence a pound, and a recording studio was set up in a remote space under the stage. The changes made by Hall and his team cost 4.7 million. The result was an inexpressive, outdated interior - which is what we see now. Hall's innovations did not affect the external appearance of the Opera, on which its world fame rests, with one (unfortunately too noticeable) exception. He replaced the gull-winged plywood mullions for the glass walls with painted steel windows in the style of the '60s. But he was unable to cope with the geometry: windows disfigured by strange convexities are a harbinger of complete collapse inside the premises. By October 20, 1973, the day of the Opera's grand opening by Queen Elizabeth, construction costs totaled A$102 million (£51 million at the time). 75 percent of this amount was spent after Utzon left. Architecture professor and Sydney cartoonist George Molnar wrote a scathing caption under one of his drawings: “Mr Hughes is right. We must control costs, no matter the cost." “If Mr. Utzon had stayed, we would have lost nothing,” the Sydney Morning Herald added sadly, seven years too late. Peter Hall was confident that his work on redesigning the Opera House would glorify his name, but he never received another significant order. He died in Sydney in 1989, forgotten by everyone. Sensing that Labor was again gaining strength, Hughes, even before the opening of the Opera, exchanged his post for a sinecure as the representative of New South Wales in London and doomed himself to further obscurity. If he is remembered at all in Sydney, it is only as a vandal who disfigured the pride of the metropolis. Hughes still maintains that without him the Opera House would never have been completed. The bronze plaque, displayed at the entrance since 1973, speaks volumes of his ambition: after the names of the crowned heads, it bears the name of the Minister of Public Works, the Honorable Davis Hughes, followed by the names of Peter Hall and his assistants. Utzon's name is not on this list; he was not even mentioned in Elizabeth's solemn speech - a shameful impoliteness, for in the days of the Dane's glory the monarch received him on board her yacht in Sydney Harbor.

Still hoping for a second invitation to Sydney, Utzon did not stop thinking about his plan in Denmark. He twice made an offer to continue working, but both times received an icy refusal from the minister. On a dark night in 1968, a desperate Utzon gave his theater a ritual funeral: he burned the last models and drawings on the shore of a deserted fiord in Jutland. In Denmark they were well aware of his troubles, so there was no need to expect decent orders from his fellow countrymen. Utzon resorted to a common way among architects to wait out the dark times - he began to build a house for himself in Mallorca. In 1972, on the recommendation of Leslie Martin, one of the Sydney competition judges, Utzon and his son Jan were commissioned to design the National Assembly in Kuwait. This Assembly, built on the shores of the Persian Gulf, is reminiscent of the Sydney Opera House: it also has two halls, located side by side, and in the middle is a canopy-like roof, under which, according to Utzon, Kuwaiti legislators could relax in the coolness of the whispering air conditioners. Although some have accused Utzon of never finishing what he starts, the building was completed in 1982 but was almost entirely destroyed during the 1991 Iraqi invasion. The newly rebuilt Assembly no longer sports Scandinavian crystal candelabra and gilt over Utzon's austere teak interior, and its covered courtyard has been converted into a parking lot. In Denmark, Utzon designed a church, a furniture store, a telephone booth, a garage with a defiant reprise of the glass walls of the Opera - that's probably all. The much-publicized theater project in Zurich never came to fruition, but this is not Utzon's fault. His architecture, using standardized building blocks, which are then laid according to a sculptural principle, did not find many followers: it is good from an aesthetic, not a commercial point of view, and has nothing in common with towers that are primitive in design and camouflaged “as classicism”, such as appeared in abundance in the era of postmodernism.

Of all the attractions in Australia, the Sydney Opera House attracts greatest number tourists. Even before the Olympics, it became one of the most famous buildings in the world. Sydneysiders would be happy to get rid of the pompous tinsel of the 60s and complete the Opera the way Utzon wanted - today money is not a problem for them. But the train left. The Mallorcan recluse is no longer the young dreamer who won the competition. Utzon's reluctance to see his mutilated creation is understandable. True, last year he did agree to sign a vague document on the basis of which it is planned to develop a project for restoring the Opera worth 35 million pounds. According to this document, the main architect of the construction will be Utzon's son, Jan. But you cannot create a great masterpiece from someone else’s words, even if these are the words of Utzon himself. His Opera House with a gigantic stage and stunningly beautiful interior forever remained just a wonderful idea that was not destined to come true.

Perhaps this could not have been avoided. Like all great artists, Utzon strives for perfection, believing that this is exactly what both the client and his own conscience demand of him. But architecture rarely becomes art; it is rather akin to a business that strives to satisfy conflicting demands, and at the lowest cost. And we should be grateful to fate that the rare union of an atheist visionary and a naive provincial town gave us a building whose appearance is almost ideal. “You will never tire of it, you will never tire of it,” Utzon predicted in 1965. He was right: it would never really happen.

Notes:
*Cenotaph is an obelisk in London erected in memory of those killed during the First World War. - Approx. translation
*In New York at that time, according to his design, the Trans World Airlines terminal building was being built, a kind of modest Opera House.
*Strait between Denmark and Sweden. - Approx. translation
*Thus, Utzon's name joined the long list of geniuses who suffered from dyslexia, which included Albert Einstein. *Invention by Elisha Otis of Yonkers, USA (1853).
*Another name for the Pompidou Center in Paris. - Approx. ed.
*Currently, Utzon still lives outside of the country, in Mallorca, where he leads a secluded and secluded lifestyle.
*Cahill was in a hurry with construction, spurred by deteriorating health and criticism from the parliamentary opposition.

Sydney Opera House

Sydney is rightfully considered the most beautiful city Australia and one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Sydney is located in the hills above a magnificent bay that is filled with boats all year round. The calling card of Sydney is the Sydney Opera House and the Harbor Bridge, the grandeur of which has amazed tourists for many decades.

When we say “Australia” or “Sydney”, we immediately imagine the quaint building of the Sydney Opera House. Resembling a swan or a surreal ship trying to unfurl its sails, or gigantic shells, the Opera House is the main symbol of Sydney.

SYDNEY OPERA. At the heart of the Opera House project is the desire to bring people from the world of daily routine to the world of fantasy, where musicians and actors live.
The Sydney Opera House is the only building of the 20th century that stands on a par with such great architectural symbols of the 19th century as Big Ben, the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Along with the Hagia Sophia and the Taj Mahal, this building belongs to the highest cultural achievements of the last millennium.

Almost every person has heard about the Sydney Opera House. However, few of us know that in addition to this wonderful building, the port and the port bridge are also considered the symbol of the Australian city. The ensemble of three buildings in Sydney is the subject of “hunting” by photographers, because the view is simply amazing. It’s no secret that the architect’s idea of creating such a roof for the opera was inspired by the sails in the harbor.

Let's delve a little into the history of the creation of the Sydney Opera House and perhaps we will understand why today this building has surpassed the port in its popularity - the previous unofficial symbol of the city. Back in 1954, a competition was announced, the winner of which could realize his idea. Then 233 highly qualified specialists from 32 countries immediately wanted to participate in the competition. The architect who received the right to realize his idea was the little-known Dane Jorg Utzon. He, like almost all the other contestants, only knew about the place where the opera would be located, but had never been there. The only help for him was photographs of the area. Uzton found inspiration, which has already been mentioned briefly, in the city port (he was very impressed by the luxurious white sails) and, to some extent, in the temple buildings of the ancient Mayan and Aztec peoples, which he visited in Mexico
The idea of Jörg Uzton turned out to be so new, one might even say revolutionary, that the builders took on it, despite its great complexity. However, the complexity was only one of the rough edges on the way to the implementation of the project - it was soon discovered new problem. With a stated cost of $7 million and a implementation period of 10 years, the builders failed to meet either the deadlines or the cost. Over the course of 20 years, the project “ate up” more than $100 million, and more than once the city council had the issue of curtailing the expensive project on its agenda. It is worth recalling that at the beginning of the second half of the last century, money was much more expensive than it is today. But the government men of Sydney, with exceptional ingenuity, solved the problem of lack of funding - the Sydney Opera House was built... at the expense of the lottery.

Clouds constantly gathered around the project, it was showered with a stream of criticism, and in 1966 Uzton could not stand it. Technical, financial and bureaucratic failures forced him to step away from the leadership of the project. The main technical challenge, along with its aesthetic perfection, were the giant concrete sails. The architects called them among themselves “elliptical paraboloids,” and in fact it turned out that it was not possible to construct them in their original form, and accordingly the entire project had to be redone. It took many hours of work and complex technical calculations to rework the project, but in the end the opera was built. The version of the building that we see today was a triumph not only of Utzon’s project, but also the embodiment of the technical thought of the Australian architects who were involved in the implementation of his idea.

The work was completed in 1973, and the opening ceremony of the Sydney Opera House took place on October 20 of the same year. An unusually large number of famous people attended, but the main guest was Queen Elizabeth II of England. According to numerous reviews, it is the building of the Sydney Opera House that has not been surpassed to this day - it is considered the most beautiful building built since the end of the Second World War. Photographers and connoisseurs of all things beautiful claim that it is best to admire this miracle of architecture and design from the stern of the ship, then the building turns into a kind of castle in the air or a white-winged swan ready to take off

The Sydney Opera House is a complex of almost 1000 rooms, home to the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, Australian Opera, Australian Ballet, Sydney Theater Company, Sydney Dance Company,
as well as several other small halls, one of which is located in the open-air courtyard.

Those who are not completely impressed by the external appearance of the Sydney Opera House are completely unsettled by the interior decoration of the opera, the style of which has been called “space age gothic”. The theater curtain, woven in France, is the largest in the world. The area of each half of this miracle curtain is 93 m2. The huge mechanical organ of the concert hall is also a record holder - it has 10,500 pipes. Under the opera vaults there are five halls for various performances, as well as a cinema and two restaurants. The opera hall can accommodate 1,550 spectators at once, and the concert hall - 2,700. The Sydney Opera House has become home to a symphony orchestra, a philharmonic choir and a city theater.

The sail-shaped shells that form the roof make this building unlike any other in the world. Now it is one of the most famous and easily recognizable buildings in the world, a symbol of Sydney and one of the main attractions of Australia. The Sydney Opera House is recognized as one of the outstanding buildings of modern architecture in the world.

The Sydney Opera House finds its absolute charm at night - when it is flooded with lantern lights.

The Sydney Opera House not only brought music to new heights, but also became a symbol of the entire country.

The port bridge and its design have always caused smiles among local residents. Designed by Australian engineer John Job Crewe Bradfield, the bridge was nicknamed the coat hanger. Officially, this functional steel structure bears his name - Bradfield Highway. The gray color of the bridge is explained by the cheapness of the paint, which was used during the crisis years of the bridge's creation - from 1923 to 1932. The total length of the bridge is 1150 meters, and the length of the spans between the arched trusses is 503 meters. The maximum height of the bridge is 135 meters relative to the water level. Tourists walking across this bridge will be able to enjoy superb views of the bustling port and the whole of Sydney.

It's hard to imagine Sydney without the Opera!

The Sydney Opera House is the main attraction of Australia. Opened by Queen Elizabeth II of England in 1973, the Sydney Opera House has become one of Australia's most important attractions, and it would be an unforgivable mistake not to visit. Until 1958, on the site where the opera house now stands, there was a tram depot, and even before the depot there was a fort.

The theater took 14 years to build and cost Australia around $102 million. Initially, it was planned to complete the project in 4 years, but due to difficulties with internal finishing work, the opening date was significantly delayed. For normal operation, the theater needs as much electrical energy as would be enough for a city with a population of 25 thousand people. To build this unique complex, piles were driven into the ocean floor of Sydney Harbor to a depth of 25 meters. The roof covering consists of 1,056,006 pieces of white and matte cream tiles.

The Sydney Opera House has very recognizable shapes, reminiscent of giant sails. But if many people recognize the theater immediately, seeing it from the outside in a photo or on television, then not everyone will be able to answer with confidence what kind of building it is, looking at its decorations from the inside. You can experience all the beauties of the theater with a tour that departs through its depths at 7 a.m., that is, at a time when the Sydney Opera House is still dozing and its walls are not disturbed by sonorous and loud performances.

This excursion is conducted only once a day. A huge variety of different performers from all over the world perform in the theater, among them the tradition arose of kissing the wall before a performance, but only the most worthy and great among them are awarded such an honor. For example, on the kissing wall you can find imprints of Janet Jackson's lips. But still, the excursion can only be an introductory stage into the world of the Sydney Opera House. In order to get maximum impressions and positive emotions, you need to attend at least 1 performance.

Another impressive performance venue in Sydney is Stadium Australia, which seats 83.5 thousand people.

Information for visitors:

Address: Bennelong Point, Sydney NSW 2000.

How to get there: The opera house is located on Sydney Harbor at Bennelong Point. It will be easy for you to get here from anywhere in Sydney; the intersection of sea and land transport routes is nearby.

Working hours:

Every day (except Sunday) from 9:00 to late evening;

Sunday: from 10:00 to late evening (depending on the event).

Prices: depending on the event.

One of the most interesting buildings of the 20th century is located in Australia. Built between 1957 and 1973, the Sydney Opera House is surrounded by water and strongly resembles a sailboat. The architect of the legendary structure was Jorn Utson from Denmark.

History of construction

Until the mid-20th century, there was not a single building in Sydney suitable for opera productions. With the arrival of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra's new chief conductor, Eugene Goosens, the problem was made public.

But the creation of a new building for opera and orchestral purposes did not become a matter of first importance. At this time, the whole world was in a state of recovery after the war, the Sydney administration was in no hurry to begin work, and the project was frozen.

Funding for the construction of the Sydney Opera House began in 1954. They continued until 1975, and in total about $100 million was collected.

Cape Bennelong was chosen as the site for one of the largest cultural buildings. According to the requirements, the building had to have two halls. The first of them, intended for opera and ballet performances, as well as symphonic music, was supposed to accommodate approximately three thousand people. In the second, with dramatic performances and chamber music, there are 1,200 people.

Jorn Utson, according to the commission, became the best architect out of 233 who sent their works. He was inspired to create the project by the sailing ships standing in Sydney Harbor. It took the builders 14 years to complete the project.

Construction began in 1959. Immediately problems began to arise. The government demanded that the number of halls be increased from two to four. In addition, the designed wing-sails turned out to be impossible to implement, so it took several more years of experimentation to find the right solution. Due to the outbreak of proceedings in 1966, Utson was replaced by a group of architects from Australia, led by Peter Hull.

On September 28, 1973, the Sydney Opera House opened its gates. The premiere was the production of the opera “War and Peace” by S. Prokofiev. The official opening ceremony was held on October 20 in the presence of Elizabeth II.

Some numbers

The constructed opera immediately immortalized itself in history. This is truly a huge complex containing 5 halls and about 1000 rooms for various purposes. The maximum height of the Opera House building is 67 meters. The total weight of the building is estimated to be 161,000 tons.

Opera House halls

1 hall

The largest hall of the Sydney Opera House is the Concert Hall. It accommodates 2679 visitors. The Great Concert Organ is also located here.

Hall 2

The Opera Hall, which seats 1,547 spectators, is used for opera and ballet performances. The hall houses the world's largest theatrical curtain-tapestry, the Curtain of the Sun.

Hall 3

The drama hall seats 544 spectators. Drama and dance performances take place here. There is also another tapestry curtain, also woven in Aubusson. Due to its dark tones, it was called “Curtain of the Moon”.

Hall 4

The Playhouse hall seats 398 spectators. It is intended for theatrical miniatures, lectures, and also for use as a cinema.

Hall 5

The newest hall, “Studio,” opened in 1999. 364 spectators can see plays in the spirit of avant-garde art here.

Since 1973, the Sydney Opera House has been in use almost 24 hours a day without interruption. In addition to culture and art lovers, the building is loved by thousands of tourists visiting Sydney. The Sydney Opera House has become a real symbol of Australia.