Then you mention the name Boris Bernaskoni to other architects in Moscow they phrase their opinions carefully. He is a provocative figure, chiefly due to his self-confidence, and his ability to self-promotion since he began work as architect eight years ago at the tender age of 23. Bernaskoni has an instinct for media-friendly slogans, his designs are witty and thought-provoking, and he is fully confident of his precocity. In March this year, his colleagues were silenced when Bernaskoni won international approval with a winning design for a new museum in Perm, a city in the Ural Mountain in western Russia. Out of 320 entries from 50 different countries, he came joint first with Swiss Valerio Olgiati, beating Zaha Hadid, Eric Owen Moss, Hans Hollein, Lars Spuybroek’s NOX, Hani Rashid’s Asymptote, Odile Decq, Alexander Brodsky and others. Now all eyes are on Bernaskoni.

Part of the secret of his success is his ability to align himself with established forces, and to see opportunities where others don’t. For example, he plans to lead an information revolution in the All-Russia Architect’s Union building, where he has his practice. His idea is to reinvigorate the old institution over the next year, and create an accessible and lively hub for architects and designers. I find him in an untidy office lacking any artistic atmosphere. One of Bernaskoni’s theories is that truly creative people are indifferent to interiors.

Bemaskoni is an exotic hybrid of western and eastern Europe: his revolutionary outlook and love of abstract thinking marks him out as Russian. His pragmatism and savvyness feel more western, however, perhaps inherited from his forefathers, architects from Italy who came to Russia in the 18th century to work on the palaces of St Petersburg. While his follow graduates from the Moscow Architecture Institute are all training with established architects of the older generation, Bernaskoni feels no need to learn at the master’s knee. He is the only one of them to have his own practice. And he certainly works hard: according to one of his peers, he docs party, but only at the right parties, and he is certainly not among the more Bohemian architects, with their louche way of life.

His latest exploit was the presentation at this year’s Venice Biennale of his manifesto, Profoster / Interface that takes issue with Norman Foster’s Project Orange, planned to replace the Central House of Artists (CHA) on the Moscow embankment, a mile from the Kremlin. Bernaskoni believes that the case of the CHA marks a crisis point in relations between the authorities and the people of Moscow.

The CHA, built in the Sixties by Nikolay Sukoyan and Yuri Sheverdyaev, houses a giant public art collection and is set in parkland. The manifesto includes a map of Moscow illustrating how the CHA and it’s park are a reflection of the Kremlin: yin and yang, one representing the power of the state, and the other, the creative force of the people. While they remain in balance, the country can function, as soon as one is removed, there will be chaos.
Instead of using his place in the central pavilion at the Biennale to show his own work, Bernaskoni gave out copies of the manifesto, against a backdrop of posters depicting the Kremlin skyline, above which floats a giant banana and a demonic head of Foster. The banana is a reference to the fruit and veg connotations of Project Orange and the Gherkin in London. He proudly shows me photographs of himself with the manifesto, alongside a series of architectural stars. Here he is combining finely tuned opportunism and ambition with a fantastic bit of architectural campaigning. ‘I am not attacking Foster,’ says Bernaskoni, ‘He is simply the figure at the sharp end of the social conflict that has arisen around the CHA. He himself is not of interest. We are talking about territory not about Foster. I spoke on behalf of a large group of people, not only my own practice. It is agitprop.’

Bernaskoni’s active public role is unusual for an architect, especially in Moscow where apathy reigns in the face of the enormous demolitions crushing the city. ‘Architects are, by and large, conformists. It is easier that way. Boris is different, however, and this marks him out in a positive way,’ comments David Sarkisyan, director of the Moscow Schusev Museum of Architecture. Bernaskoni’s vision for CHA, as laid out in the manifesto, is to encase the existing building in a glass box and re-landscape the park around it, planting more trees and constructing pavilions, commissioned from many different architects. The project, like most of his work, is large-scale, efficient and bold.

Bernaskoni’s built constructions can be counted on one hand: three pavilions
in Moscow, one of them temporary. His IMMaterialBOX is in the courtyard of the Schusev architecture museum, another example of his ability to inveigle himself into the right places. The plywood cabin serves as a security post and an extra exhibition space. Here, high-tech meets the most basic construction techniques. It stands on a foundation of sawn-off birch trunks, and has a window of Emdelight glass. The luminous glass changes colour on demand, and costs an alien glow into the courtyard. Sarkisyan, who commissioned the work, says of Bernaskoni: ‘In him are all the minuses and pluses of youth. He considers himself a genius.I can’t comment on that. But this is not necessarily a bad thing for a creative person.’

There is also a wealth of inventive and playful non-built works that have attracted a great deal of press and admiration in Russia. These include a skyscraper in the form of a giant Russian doll, a project to encase the giant and unpopular sculpture of Peter the Great-th at stands on the Moscow River in a glass box, and the Villabernaskoni, whose façade changes pattern and co lour according to the temperature, a development from the IMMaterialBOX. An: these headline grabbing devices or serious architecture? ‘I believe that an clement of playfulness has to exist in all projects,’ says Bernaskoni, ‘But all my projects are commissions and are realisable. They are not jokes. Architects don’t joke.‘ The idea of mutation is present in all of Bernaskoni’s work. This is his central thesis, which he calls the Interface. He describes the Interface as a building’s ability to adapt and change. ‘Architecture is not simply about a building — about a roof and exterior decoration. Style is only one part of the equation, therefore I do not have anyone style. Today, architecture is interactive and this idea of reaction to change must be built into the building and even the façade must be able to change after 5 or 10 years. Architecture is becoming a way of forming the surrounding environment and the mood of its inhabitants.’ In Perm we see another interpretation of this idea: the building is multi-functional and adaptable, a museum, a transport hub, and a viewing platform. The most radical aspect of the project is that the Trans-Siberian railway runs through the middle of it, with a pedestrian route going over the top, and a jetty for boats to moor at its foot.

Alexei Muratov, editor of architecture magazine Project Russia, admires Bemaskoni. ‘Boris has a big talent as an ideologue and a good intuition for what message is interesting, for example the idea of Interface. He is unable to clearly explain it but the slogan is sexy, as is the Foster campaign. He is a big character and it is this strong personality that generates ideas and projects.’

For economic and political reasons, the project in Perm is presently on hold, but the very fact of winning it has changed perceptions of Bernaskonl in Russia. He has become a source of pride in a country, where the prizes usually go to foreign architects. Architect and a professor at the Moscow Institute of Architecture, Evgeny Asse believes that it has done a lot of good for the Russian architectural scene. ‘In our competitions, these things are usually decided in advance and are normally down to cost rather than quality,’ he says. ‘In his small projects we can see Bernaskoni’s love of architecture. He is able to work with sincerity on noncommercial projects. This is the way that good architecture is born’. 

Then you mention the name Boris Bernaskoni to other architects in Moscow they phrase their opinions carefully. He is a provocative figure, chiefly due to his self-confidence, and his ability to self-promotion since he began work as architect eight years ago at the tender age of 23. Bernaskoni has an instinct for media-friendly slogans, his designs are witty and thought-provoking, and he is fully confident of his precocity. In March this year, his colleagues were silenced when Bernaskoni won international approval with a winning design for a new museum in Perm, a city in the Ural Mountain in western Russia. Out of 320 entries from 50 different countries, he came joint first with Swiss Valerio Olgiati, beating Zaha Hadid, Eric Owen Moss, Hans Hollein, Lars Spuybroek’s NOX, Hani Rashid’s Asymptote, Odile Decq, Alexander Brodsky and others. Now all eyes are on Bernaskoni.

Part of the secret of his success is his ability to align himself with established forces, and to see opportunities where others don’t. For example, he plans to lead an information revolution in the All-Russia Architect’s Union building, where he has his practice. His idea is to reinvigorate the old institution over the next year, and create an accessible and lively hub for architects and designers. I find him in an untidy office lacking any artistic atmosphere. One of Bernaskoni’s theories is that truly creative people are indifferent to interiors.

Bemaskoni is an exotic hybrid of western and eastern Europe: his revolutionary outlook and love of abstract thinking marks him out as Russian. His pragmatism and savvyness feel more western, however, perhaps inherited from his forefathers, architects from Italy who came to Russia in the 18th century to work on the palaces of St Petersburg. While his follow graduates from the Moscow Architecture Institute are all training with established architects of the older generation, Bernaskoni feels no need to learn at the master’s knee. He is the only one of them to have his own practice. And he certainly works hard: according to one of his peers, he docs party, but only at the right parties, and he is certainly not among the more Bohemian architects, with their louche way of life.

His latest exploit was the presentation at this year’s Venice Biennale of his manifesto, Profoster / Interface that takes issue with Norman Foster’s Project Orange, planned to replace the Central House of Artists (CHA) on the Moscow embankment, a mile from the Kremlin. Bernaskoni believes that the case of the CHA marks a crisis point in relations between the authorities and the people of Moscow.

The CHA, built in the Sixties by Nikolay Sukoyan and Yuri Sheverdyaev, houses a giant public art collection and is set in parkland. The manifesto includes a map of Moscow illustrating how the CHA and it’s park are a reflection of the Kremlin: yin and yang, one representing the power of the state, and the other, the creative force of the people. While they remain in balance, the country can function, as soon as one is removed, there will be chaos. Instead of using his place in the central pavilion at the Biennale to show his own work, Bernaskoni gave out copies of the manifesto, against a backdrop of posters depicting the Kremlin skyline, above which floats a giant banana and a demonic head of Foster. The banana is a reference to the fruit and veg connotations of Project Orange and the Gherkin in London. He proudly shows me photographs of himself with the manifesto, alongside a series of architectural stars. Here he is combining finely tuned opportunism and ambition with a fantastic bit of architectural campaigning. ‘I am not attacking Foster,’ says Bernaskoni, ‘He is simply the figure at the sharp end of the social conflict that has arisen around the CHA. He himself is not of interest. We are talking about territory not about Foster. I spoke on behalf of a large group of people, not only my own practice. It is agitprop.’

Bernaskoni’s active public role is unusual for an architect, especially in Moscow where apathy reigns in the face of the enormous demolitions crushing the city. ‘Architects are, by and large, conformists. It is easier that way. Boris is different, however, and this marks him out in a positive way,’ comments David Sarkisyan, director of the Moscow Schusev Museum of Architecture. Bernaskoni’s vision for CHA, as laid out in the manifesto, is to encase the existing building in a glass box and re-landscape the park around it, planting more trees and constructing pavilions, commissioned from many different architects. The project, like most of his work, is large-scale, efficient and bold.

Bernaskoni’s built constructions can be counted on one hand: three pavilions in Moscow, one of them temporary. His IMMaterialBOX is in the courtyard of the Schusev architecture museum, another example of his ability to inveigle himself into the right places. The plywood cabin serves as a security post and an extra exhibition space. Here, high-tech meets the most basic construction techniques. It stands on a foundation of sawn-off birch trunks, and has a window of Emdelight glass. The luminous glass changes colour on demand, and costs an alien glow into the courtyard. Sarkisyan, who commissioned the work, says of Bernaskoni: ‘In him are all the minuses and pluses of youth. He considers himself a genius.I can’t comment on that. But this is not necessarily a bad thing for a creative person.’

There is also a wealth of inventive and playful non-built works that have attracted a great deal of press and admiration in Russia. These include a skyscraper in the form of a giant Russian doll, a project to encase the giant and unpopular sculpture of Peter the Great-th at stands on the Moscow River in a glass box, and the Villabernaskoni, whose façade changes pattern and co lour according to the temperature, a development from the IMMaterialBOX. An: these headline grabbing devices or serious architecture? ‘I believe that an clement of playfulness has to exist in all projects,’ says Bernaskoni, ‘But all my projects are commissions and are realisable. They are not jokes. Architects don’t joke.‘ The idea of mutation is present in all of Bernaskoni’s work. This is his central thesis, which he calls the Interface. He describes the Interface as a building’s ability to adapt and change. ‘Architecture is not simply about a building — about a roof and exterior decoration. Style is only one part of the equation, therefore I do not have anyone style. Today, architecture is interactive and this idea of reaction to change must be built into the building and even the façade must be able to change after 5 or 10 years. Architecture is becoming a way of forming the surrounding environment and the mood of its inhabitants.’ In Perm we see another interpretation of this idea: the building is multi-functional and adaptable, a museum, a transport hub, and a viewing platform. The most radical aspect of the project is that the Trans-Siberian railway runs through the middle of it, with a pedestrian route going over the top, and a jetty for boats to moor at its foot.

Alexei Muratov, editor of architecture magazine Project Russia, admires Bemaskoni. ‘Boris has a big talent as an ideologue and a good intuition for what message is interesting, for example the idea of Interface. He is unable to clearly explain it but the slogan is sexy, as is the Foster campaign. He is a big character and it is this strong personality that generates ideas and projects.’

For economic and political reasons, the project in Perm is presently on hold, but the very fact of winning it has changed perceptions of Bernaskonl in Russia. He has become a source of pride in a country, where the prizes usually go to foreign architects. Architect and a professor at the Moscow Institute of Architecture, Evgeny Asse believes that it has done a lot of good for the Russian architectural scene. ‘In our competitions, these things are usually decided in advance and are normally down to cost rather than quality,’ he says. ‘In his small projects we can see Bernaskoni’s love of architecture. He is able to work with sincerity on noncommercial projects. This is the way that good architecture is born’.