Interview with Majda Kregar

With her life’s work, the architect Majda Kregar, together with the architects Edo Ravnikar Jr. and Miha Kerin of the Ambient architectural practice, has left a mark on the Slovenian architectural scene of the last 50 years, and above all on the renovation of Ljubljana Castle, from the competition in 1969 to the last interventions in 2024, when the main renovation work was finally completed. In addition to the renovation of the castle, she has designed many new buildings, and is also the recipient of numerous architectural accolades, including the 1996 Plečnik Prize.

Piranesi: Seeing you so youthful, so full of life and positive energy, I cannot help but express my praise for you. You are still managing the office, creating, coordinating, even though you could have been “enjoying” retirement for the past twenty years. Your work inspires you and it is obvious that you find it fulfilling.iranesi: Boris, since this year marks the 40th anniversary of the Piran Days of Architecture, which take place every year in Piran and Portorož, I would like to start the interview with questions related to this event. On this occasion, a special collection will be published, which will present the views of various co-creators of Piran Days, including yours. However, I would like to ask you a few more questions for Piranesi magazine. It seems to me that at that time, in the 1980s, when you and other architects gathered around Vojteh Ravnikar, you had that connection with the world and the opportunity to advise them, to suggest connections with European architects. Can you tell us more about this?

Thank you for your encouraging words…. I think it’s Mother Nature’s way of setting you to work until the end. It instils in you a joy for life and creation, a sense of purpose and an awareness that you have to be useful.

In this interview for Piranesi, I would like us to walk through your life journey, from your studies, your partnership with Edo Ravnikar Jr., your family ties with Professor Edvard Ravnikar, his relationship with architecture and, of course, your various interesting projects. I would like to highlight your work at Ljubljana Castle, which is presented in more detail in this issue of the magazine, in the cover story by Andrej Hrausky.

I hope I’ll not be repeating myself too much, and that you’ll raise some new issues in the light of all my past statements and conversations. Thank you, though, for your kind invitation, I’ll try to answer your questions as honestly as possible.

Studies

By way of introduction I was wondering how you decided to go into architecture, into the design of space, of buildings. Did you know from a young age that this was going to be your life path?

No, far from it! Because I drew well and with a lot of enthusiasm as a child, my parents decided to send me to a secondary school for civil engineering, as the four children in the family were supposed to start earning their living quickly. Some of my father’s cousins were architects and nudged him towards that decision for me. This secondary school was of high quality at the time, with renowned professors who also taught at the Faculty. As the top graduate I got a job at the Slovenija Projekt office, where I worked with the architects Oton Jugovec and Svetozar Križaj. They got me interested in architecture, and since it was at that time [1960] that Prof. Edvard Ravnikar announced the introduction of the reformed study of architecture, I enrolled in this so-called “B course”. There my interest developed into a real passion, because I was completely taken by Ravnikar’s creative programme and way of working. Already in my second year I started to work with both the Professor and Edo Ravnikar Jr. on competition projects and then, or at the same time, on his detailed projects for construction. It was a magical time.

You graduated in 1968 under Professor Edvard Ravnikar, with a draft urban plan for Bled. Since you had already worked for a few years on his projects, I assume you wanted to finish your studies as soon as possible?

I was in no hurry to finish, as my studies were almost perfect when working with Ravnikar. I passed all  the exams almost without any problems, except for structural engineering with Prof. Vogelnik. I could not decide whether or not to sit for this exam, because whenever he met me on the staircase of the architectural school he would always say, “Well, how is the ‘paper method’ going?” He openly made fun of Ravnikar’s B course, so I only took the structural engineering exam with a new lecturer, and so it took me six – very hardworking – years from enrolment to graduation.

Already during your studies, but afterwards as well, you and Edo Ravnikar Jr. worked with Professor Ravnikar. Edo also continued his studies in London, where you also spent quite some time with him. What mark did this time in London leave on him, and on you? A certain openness, I imagine, because at that time we were living behind the Iron Curtain in Yugoslavia?

So far, neither Edo nor I have commented on these London studies or their continuation. A proper presentation of this interesting time, from both professional and political perspectives, would require a longer article by Edo himself, rather than a few simple sentences by me. I will just mention a few facts.

It was that swinging time, the most beautiful period of London. We were there for Edo’s postgraduate studies. His PhD thesis at the University College London [UCL] with the supervisors Prof. Dr. Rayner Banham, of the Bartlett School UCL, and Prof. John Watling, of the Department of Philosophy, covered the problems of civil engineering or its development based on the complexities of mathematics, biology and logic. It developed the theoretical basis for generative software not only for the design of buildings, but also for their execution.

We would spend those years of 1969-75 both here and there, coming back to Yugoslavia to work on big domestic projects like Hotel Lev in Bohinj, Hotel Miločer in Montenegro (both of which unfortunately remained just projects on paper due to the economic and political upheavals in Yugoslavia), and on a few competitions. The renovation of Ljubljana Castle was underway, too. In London in 1970 we participated in a competition together with the mathematician Andrej Kmet and won the French Grand prix international d’urbanisme et d’architecture, Edo also published a lot of articles in foreign professional journals. We also collaborated with Douglas Stephen & Partners, a well-known London office at that time, on the development of a tourist complex in France and together we started to explore the possibilities for tourism development in Dalmatia. We would associate with the architect Anthony Furst, who later won an Oscar for the set design of Batman [1989]. Edo held two lectures with him at the London University AA. We rented a shared flat together with the architect Bernard Tschumi for two years. Both of them were my acquaintances, who I’d known since 1966 when we met at an international student conference in Berlin. Although Edo’s PhD thesis challenged some of Bernard’s ideas, he was very interested in it. Out of their discussions came Tschumi’s famous superposition of the design elements of the Parc de la Villette in Paris.

However, when Edo’s mentor Prof. R. Banham was leaving UCL he invited Edo to come with him to the United States to complete his studies and work with him further, as he was one of the rare people who understood Edo’s thesis and believed in it. But this didn’t work out, precisely because of the impact of the Iron Curtain that you mentioned, and the torturous interference of the UDBA, the Yugoslav State Security Service, in his correspondence and work at the time. They would open Edo’s letters, and we were even taken to the Ljubljana Police for questioning. For some time they took Edo’s passport away from him, and so on. At that time we were also working on the design for the Avala Hotel in Montenegro in cooperation with Italian partners, and the Directorate for state security (UDBA) found all these activities suspicious. Besides, this exciting period of our lives also saw the birth of our children, a baby girl with an unidentified condition and, as I said, the intense work at home.

So Edo continued his research here, in Slovenia, although not without numerous complications, again interesting from the point of view of that historical period. Together with the mathematician Roman Šoper he obtained six US patents in 2012 and 2013 in the field of applying mathematical functions and computer algorithms for the automation of complex architectural design and construction, and they are still working on that together, including with the help of our son, Martin. What they have done so far is actually amazing, given all the obstacles and limited financial capacity, and what they need now is a capable manager to bring all this to life.

In 1969 you founded the Ljubljana Castle Restoration Bureau, an office of three architects, Edo Ravnikar Jr., who won the competition, you and Miha Kerin. How did you divide the roles?

Those were the few years with the progressive Slovenian politicians Boris Kraigher and Stane Kavčič. The then Mayor of Ljubljana, the engineer Miha Košak, took note of a letter from his advisor, the art-historian Prof. Franc Stele, strongly recommending the immediate commencement of the project based on the winning proposal. The Mayor thus set up the Ljubljana Castle Renovation Office within the Ljubljana Institute for Heritage Protection as soon as possible.

Edo set out a bold, comprehensive concept of the castle’s transformation, with the intensive integration of the hilltop fortress complex into the city’s life. His idea was to turn the dilapidated castle agglomeration into something that would make Slovenians proud in front of Europeans. He invited Kerin and me to his office to help achieve this. At that time there were no good examples of similar projects around the world, so ours was a pioneering one. Each of the three of us focused on what appealed to them most. Edo stood firmly behind the basic idea, devising original technological and programmatic approaches that would ensure a radical revitalisation of the castle in the middle of the city, Kerin tirelessly researched the built heritage, while my colleagues and I worked on concrete designs. Together we invented restoration procedures and worked towards the structural rehabilitation of old structures and reconstruction of battlements. Later on, in the development of various interior programmes and the design of interiors themselves, I did most of the work. Kerin worked thoroughly on the details, spending time on the site almost every day . All three of us were friends and colleagues, working like clockwork. Even when we were stopped by the conservators, who accused us of arbitrariness and going beyond the conservators’ doctrine, we fought together unyieldingly and proved the correctness of our approach to revitalisation. Those were wild times, when we started the battle all over again with every new mayor in office. All of this, of course, delayed the renovation enormously.

In 1978, you merged with the Ambient Office, which was led by France and Marta Ivanšek. What was the reason for this?

In 1978, after a social process of restructuring into TOZDs [Basic Organisations of United Labour], when it was necessary to separate the work of conservators and art historians from the architectural work, our Office for the Renovation of the Ljubljana Castle split from the Regional Institute for Monument protection as a TOZD, a branch office, and joined the Ambient Office that had been created in 1963, and which was led by France Ivanšek. Naturally, we expanded our activities with many projects and collaborators. Today Ambient d.o.o. is probably the oldest architectural office in Slovenia.

Over a period of more than four decades many younger architects came into the office. How do you cooperate with your son Martin Ravnikar, who is also an architect?

We had many capable colleagues working with us, and after a period of time most of them started to work independently. There were considerable ups and downs in the business of the office, so sometimes colleagues would leave, but the three of us always found new projects or research work. Thus, among other things, we initiated several traffic management projects for Ljubljana. For example, a garage under the castle hill that would solve all the traffic problems of Old Ljubljana, the castle complex and the wider city centre, several proposals for deepening the railway and merging of the city centre with the Tivoli park, a traffic management study for Istria in synergy with water supply planning, and many others.

But yes, Martin is also an architect, and he’s particularly interested in research, having worked with his father Edo for several years on the development of the aforementioned software for architectural design and streamlining of construction, and he is a firm believer in the future development of the profession in parallel with the rapid technological changes taking place in other engineering disciplines. Modern buildings are becoming increasingly complex, with new requirements and the proliferation of secondary support systems, and in the quest to manage this complexity there is a tendency to resort to the simplification and trivialisation of architecture, and as a result, buildings are becoming increasingly identical. Of course, we are talking here about large buildings, not private houses, which may represent the greatest flourishing of forms and diversity. On the other hand, public buildings, apartment blocks and tower blocks are becoming typologically and formally universal. A tower block is built in Frankfurt, tomorrow there will be a similar one in Dubai, even in China. To some extent this is due to globalisation, but to a much greater extent it is a consequence of the inability to efficiently manage the complexity of all the safety and energy requirements and installation subsystems that these buildings require, and which have an increasing influence on architectural design. Edo has long had an idea how to solve this. In fact, today this has been developed well beyond an idea, and is already working in a prototype version. The aim is to give architects a more important role once again, with a tool that will allow them to focus not so much on subsystems and rules but on the form, function and local characteristics of construction, i.e. to be able to deal with the architecture itself, while the software will take care of the coherence of the auxiliary systems. Martin has been involved in this for 15 years. Working together with Edo and Roman, they have reached the point where they need a financial injection to continue, to go to the next step, to convert the prototype software into a user interface. Martin has had to leave some of this behind recently, not willingly or wholeheartedly, but based on the realisation that as Edo and myself gradually wind down our work at the office somebody will have to keep it afloat. That’s why he’s been working on a good number of houses for demanding private clients lately, in addition to working on my projects. As a young, sensible engineer, he can see all the problems and nonsense in the profession that today’s global society and, to an even greater extent, Slovenian society, produces. He is aware of the absurdities and inconsistencies of the related laws, the innumerable regulations and acts, and he feels that he should be involved in the de-bureaucratisation of our profession. I think the situation is not easy for young people, and it will not become any easier any time soon.

Edvard Ravnikar

I had the honour to meet Professor Ravnikar, to listen to his last few lectures in the early 1990s, when we invited him to the Faculty to shed light on many of the mysteries of architectural understanding, of architectural thought, but there was no opportunity for any more in-depth personal contact. What was it like to live with him, how was that relationship like? He probably appreciated and respected you, I suppose, and took your opinions into account?

After the first few months of studying, the Professor and I hit it off. He recognised my sincere joy in working on the B course. I understood his thoughts and suggestions immediately. He was an enlightened European, and with his aristocratic reserve he inspired complete respect and trust. We were lucky to have such a charismatic teacher, an erudite and a versatile thinker, artist, theorist, and innovator, and at the same time a practitioner with a prophetic insight into the future of society. All his efforts were oriented at improving the modest living conditions of the Slovenes through the creation of an appropriate, developmental, functional and at the same time attractive living environment. He was a man of truth, who avoided everything inauthentic and false. When I think back on the past and the people that have been present in my life, almost everyone is associated with an event that makes me feel uneasy in one way or another, but not the Professor. I feel only gratitude and respect for him. Thanks to the Professor, I learned to view architecture with passion and love. He acknowledged my contributions and was grateful for them. I remember when he asked me – “What will I do when life calls you away?” It was hard when I had to start moving away from him, when I had small children, when we were working on our own competitions and had a lot of our own tasks at Ambient.

Still, even then he would come to the office to talk to us almost every day, and if we didn’t see each other we’d have a long evening phone call when he’d ask, “Well, what’s new?”

For Ravnikar, taking part in competitions was a way to get work. You helped with the competition for the Tronchetto in Venice when you were still a student. In its conceptual design, the project has a lot of added value. Much has been written about it, but I’m still interested in your opinion. Unfortunately, the city politics of the time did not recognise the boldness or innovativeness of the project, and did not give the green light for its realisation.

I did the Tronchetto competition with the Professor and Edo Jr. when I was in my third year. It was Ravnikar’s greatest success, and it also brought him his happiest moments. Finally, he had a big, important job that suited him, and it was in his beloved Venice, where, after the competition, we would go for the next two years to develop the project together with the other prize-winners. We had high expectations. Yes, it was an ambitious design, as you say, looking far into the future of the development of Venice, guaranteeing the existence of the old city at risk. That is why it was all the more distressing when, while we were working on the project, it was cancelled by Gianni De Michelis, the Venetian city planning chief. Not because of a lack of understanding of the project’s innovative design, but simply because it was not in line with the interests of capital, and thus it suffered in the face of the turn of Italy’s once progressive politics towards a policy tied to America’s corporate and financial takeover of Europe. Tronchetto was a valuable space for the Esso oil corporation, and for the new Italian politicians, who turned it into a banal global service zone, quite opposed to the idea of a shiny New Venice that Ravnikar envisioned. The joint project, which Ravnikar eventually led, thanks to his extraordinary knowledge of Venice and the trust of the other prize-winning architects, had been pushed forward by the biggest Italian industrialists of the time, including Olivetti, but political interests changed. In the end, the dissolution of the project team had nothing to do with the content of the project, but only with politics. It’s a pity, really, because today Venice would be different, it would have better conditions for the local population, it would have a strong new university and cultural centre with supporting programmes, a cultural continuity that ended with Carlo Scarpa.

You were the co-author in at least two of Prof. Ravnikar’s projects, the Maestral Hotel in Montenegro and the Babylon Hotel in Baghdad, Iraq. Did you also assist him with Cankarjev dom, or with the extension to the National Gallery?

At that time, we wouldn’t put our names besides the Professor’s very often. Mostly we would stamp the drawings with his signature. We took the work as training and were happy to be able to participate. But in fact I worked on a lot of projects with him, in all the competitions from 1962 to 1972, as well as several detailed projects for construction during that time. Ravnikar liked to send us to construction sites and to meetings with investors. He himself visited construction sites a lot when there was no official supervision. He often instructed us on what to agree to or change during the construction. He avoided conflicts that would arise in personal contact with the contractors’ managers and supervisors when a detail was not clear, or when he wanted to correct something. For example, at Cankarjev dom, when – due to time constraints – the design was done in a rush during the construction itself, and the investors’ representative, Janez Zemljarič, would call him at night for meetings and shout at him. But it varied from site to site, depending on who was in charge. He liked to talk to some of the clients’ representatives and site managers, such as those involved in the projects for OLO Kranj, Ljudska pravica, Creina and Globus. He always had a respectful, fair attitude towards the craftsmen and workers, but he was wary of semi-educated political figures and the pressures exerted by the regime. When building the Maestral Hotel in Montenegro and the Creina and Globus I was still a very immature architect, honing my skills on the construction sites. I often had to find my own way in meetings with investors.

You also mentioned Ravnikar’s later projects, when I already had my own assignments and was less involved with his work. At Cankarjev dom I was contracted, together with Ana Mavko, to design the interior at Ravnikar’s suggestion, and I designed the hall chairs with Edo, whereas at the National Gallery I had almost no involvement. At that time, we were already deep in our own work, such as the bus station in Zagreb and the Zagreb Library, a competition for which we also won, but were later disqualified because they claimed the model was open instead of sealed. I guess they didn’t want Slovenians to win again. And there was Ljubljana Castle, of course, and later the Bežigrad Dvor complex.

What was Ravnikar’s attitude towards politics, as it was impossible to realise such large-scale projects without direct cooperation with politicians?

The prevailing opinion is that Ravnikar achieved a lot despite his disagreements with the politicians. But some of us know how much more he was willing and able to do, if only the system had let him work or even supported him in his creative endeavours, which could have shaped the national identity in an even more lasting way. He was marked by politics throughout the post-war period, when architecture and civil engineering in Slovenia were the domain of politician Matija Maček. When the Professor, uncompromising and independent as he was, stood up against Maček, it was the end of that important, youthful creative period for him. All his major urban plans were cancelled, such as Nova Gorica, the regulation of Ljubljana with the deepening of the railway, the urban planning of the coastal region zone B, and so on. So he could not gain experience with the realisation of these projects. If he had been allowed to work then, today Slovenia would have its own modern architecture, just like Scandinavia has, where they supported Aalto, Jacobsen, Saarinen, and others, and in this way pushed the region out of post-war poverty with the help of architecture and design.

That he was able to realise a considerable number of projects despite everything can largely be attributed to the fact that along came years when more reasonable politicians came to power, who were open to advice from more progressive professionals like the architect Marko Šlajmer. Such were Miran Košmelj, the then Mayor of Kranj, and later Boris Kraigher and Stane Kavčič. However, there are good reasons why the Professor used to say “urban planning is politics”.

There were many compromises and constant adjustments during the construction of Cankarjev dom, and Ravnikar is known as having been a master of making adjustments on the fly. How do you remember this period?

It was typical for the Professor that he would endlessly test and correct every solution on paper, sometimes even as it was already being implemented. It was then up to us, as colleagues, to make sure that we were able to implement – or not – his wishes and suggestions on time. As I mentioned, this primarily depended on how reasonable the construction site management was. The fact that he was a master of adapting to changing circumstances comes from the conditions in which he worked, because there was always either a rush to implement the project, or the client changed the programme and financial conditions. But he always knew how to make the best of every situation, while at the same time being aware that no solution was the only possible or “correct” one, and he found every situation an interesting experiment. The fact is, however, that he was often unable to complete a project in its entirety due to deadlines, finances or the attitude of the client – as seen with Cankarjev dom, and also Trg Republike – which certainly angered and depressed him. This is also a shame for our architectural heritage.

Are the stories about his approach to competitions actually true, that he would change the concept at the last minute, always with a new and innovative approach, and would then stay up overnight to draw the new design in perspective, one that usually tipped the scales in favour of his solution?

There’s some truth to this, but it is still stated a bit too simplistically. A competition project would develop normally, with intermediate changes and twists as the idea evolved during the work itself. That’s why we always work under pressure with competitions. And yes, the Professor drew much of the perspectives himself, but sometimes he just finished ours and breathed life into them with greenery and figures, masterfully conjuring up the right ambience. But his competition reports are famous, with accompanying texts which always covered the broader issues of the assignment in relation to the call for entries. These were thoughtful essays that he wrote in his study, developing the assignment as he went along. If he came up with a better idea while writing then he’d quietly complain that it was probably too late to change the proposal, but then we usually found the time to rework it. So every competition was a tough race, right up to the finish line. But there are two competitions I’ll never forget in this regard. One is Tronchetto, where Professor came up with the idea of the phased transformation of Venice with the hinterland of Mestre on the last day, and Edo and I changed all the plans overnight, only to deliver the package – illegally – at the last moment, in a true cinematic fashion, bypassing customs and storms to reach Palazzo Cavalli.. Another example was the urban planning of New Skopje after the earthquake. Ravnikar had high expectations for this competition, which was obviously a major project. His ideas blossomed, piled up in sketches and texts, and then there was not enough time for a complete presentation of the work and the jury eliminated him. However, it was set out with great ambition and interesting developmental ideas that are now proving to have been very modern and valid.. Indeed, even back then there was a lot of debate among Yugoslav architects about this proposal after the competition had closed.

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