At present, Berliner Straße 15 is a thoroughly unremarkable piece of land, which is a suitable location for a building which is about the act of improvement, improvement on every level. Every function of a cultural center is designed to be a place where one comes to improve their life—the body through the fitness center, the social life through the café, the mind through the library, and the soul through the gallery.

We’re designing a space where this goal can be  accomplished, and it calls for a new architecture, an architecture of such a moral character as to inspire the community to become the best versions of themselves that they can be—a church of the 21^st Century. If such a building could be designed, and hundreds of different members of the community would come and be immersed in its atmosphere day after day, what sort of effect might it produce over the next fifty years? Over the next hundred? The question left to the architect is—what sort of future would we like to build?

However bold such an architecture may first appear, it was preeminently important that it be objectively less foreign to the street and its culture than any of the typical, “acceptable” contemporary architectural forms of concrete and curtain walls. The native architectural language of Germany, and particularly Pankow, is a simple rhythm of windows between load-bearing stone walls and pilasters. To avoid any risk of artificiality, no direct architectural references were consciously allowed except the same sort of humble buildings that one passes on the streets throughout the country, such that the local soil and a seed of utopia would be free to produce whatever building that they would.

Due to the shape, location, and orientation of the property, almost any design process would’ve inevitably come to the conclusion that some mechanism was required in the center of the northern façade to bring light into the building. The image of a raw crystal still embedded in the rock from which it grew emerged almost fully formed, and the building was carved into it.

The crystal’s significance as an artistic symbol has been prevalent in Germanic culture throughout its history, first developed by early mystics and then finding its best application in Expressionism with such figures as Bruno Taut and Lyonel Feininger. On a primal level we identify their natural beauty and adherence to geometry with the spiritual, and as such the symbol expresses a calm faith in the strength of the human spirit.

Substantial architectural forces are required to combat the nervous energy of a city the size of Berlin and hollow out a truly peaceful atmosphere, so the appearance of a solid construction was a very important element. The very large smooth bricks of the façade project a sense of strength and stability that provides both comfort and a stark contrast to the glass elements. A light variety of limestone was selected as the material for the interactions between its heavy, cool-toned form and the ethereal nature of the glass. To achieve the intended aesthetic effect, a material was pulled from the cultural wastebasket for use wherever visibility wasn’t desirable—the glass brick. A combination of blue-grained granite and matte oak boards provided a hint of color for interior accents.

The form of the building twists gentle away from the street toward the park as it goes up, giving nearly every room in the top four floors of the building a direct view of the park. In so doing, a relatively somber façade is presented to the street, while the true boldness of the building’s vision is reserved for the park entrance where its sculptural qualities would be best appreciated.