More than just sad… heart-wrenching! Were the buildings on the right torn down specifically for UQAM or were they demolished earlier?
Wow, the only recognizable similarity is the church in the back!
I was just in that UQAM building a couple of weeks ago for some lectures. The complete lack of windows on the lower floors of the St. Denis façade – there were some by the elevators, looking out at René Levèsque – “oh yeah, there’s a city out there, almost forgot” -with the lower blockiness blocking the view of the windows at the top floor, creates a sense of “hurry along now, don’t linger along this block” that’s almost palpably hostile to street life, in sharp contrast to the vibrant scene of St. Denis just north of there. How NOT to integrate a university building into the community. What WERE the architects thinking? (Another case of brochure architecture?)
Le 2e immeuble à gauche est toujours présent :
L’université Laval à été démolie pour permettre la construction de l’UQAM mais l’immeuble était alors en ruine suite à un incendie.
Ouf. Ça fait mal. À brailler.
Il faut tout de même voir le côté positif de ces transformations. À l’époque de la construction de l’UQAM, le quartier n’était aucunement ce qu’il est aujourd’hui.
C’est grâce aux étudiants que ce coin à reprit vie et qu’il est devenu animé. Bien que les immeubles de l’université ne sont pas particulièrement attrayant, leurs emplacements sont tout de même stratégique et c’est notamment pour être au coeur du centre-ville et non isolé sur le haut d’une montagne (UDM) que j’ai choisi d’étudier à cette université.
Well, not quite. True, the anti-window policy is uncomprehensible and the cave-like darkness inside oppressive, but there are some neat features — Judith Jasmin has the interior courtyard with the church façade, which would be nice space if only it were cleaned up and lit a bit better, and Hubert-Aquin has an exterior courtyard with the waterfall, and it’s connected directly to the métro…
Luckily, UQAM has learned from its mistakes, and I really, really, really like the new science complex, the Design Pavillion, and the impressive J.-A.-DeSève Pavillion with its very discreet desconstructionist details.
Of course, let’s see what happens with the Voyageur fiasco.
One might wonder if they were not more focused on building a francophone university on the limited capital budget they had (when the anglo-montrealer bankers weren’t busy selling all their bonds at the same time to discipline the Québec government and dissuade it from “over”-spending) than satisfying the romanticist aesthetic sensibilities of coddled anglophone hipsters from the future.
As other commenters have alluded to, the original UQAM building is a product of its times. In the l960s and 70s, mega-projects were the order of the day and the bigger the better. Universities didn’t want to be integrated into the communities, but felt like they needed to be protected enclaves of learning. In fact,inner courtyards were quite popular design features for large projects.
But times change and design impulses change too. What will people say about the new science complex in 30 or 40 years?
J’étudie à l’UQAM depuis 1 an et je regrette presque mon choix à cause de l’architecture des pavillons. C’est sombre, il fait froid, peu importe l’étage, on a toujours l’impression d’être dans un sous-sol. La connexion directe avec le métro est pratique, mais ça entraîne un gros problème: personne ne sort ou entre par les portes extérieures. L’entrée principale du Hubert-Aquin est vraiment une blague.
C’est vrai que les pavillons plus récents sur René-Lévesque et le complexe des sciences sont beaucoup plus conviviaux (pas une réussite économique pour le second…) L’agora du Judith-Jasmin pourrait être intéressante, si elle servait à quelque chose. C’est un corridor.
Je ne sais pas quel impact la construction de l’UQAM a réellement eu sur le coin, j’étais pas là avant et il y a eu pas mal d’autres changements, mais j’ai préféré mon expérience à l’Université Laval, même si le campus est isolé et ridiculement trop grand: pavillons éclairés (même si en mauvais état), lieux publics agréables où on a envie de se tenir.
Je ne sais pas Louis. Bien que beaucoup trop âgée pour être une “hipster”, je déteste l’architecture brutaliste de l’UQAM; par contre cette uni a tout de même l’avantage d’être profondément urbaine, et accessible par métro ou vélo. L’Université Laval est terriblement isolée. Une amie de Québec m’a parlé d’étudiants étrangers de pays chauds qui ne mettent jamais le nez dehors pendant l’hiver, entre les résidences, les pavillons et même le bureau des bourses tous reliés par des tunnels souterrains.
Et newurbanspaces, ce n’est pas utile de traiter les gens de “coddled anglophone hipsters”. Tu ne connais pas le vécu ni l’origine nationale ou de classe des gens qui écrivent ici.
“satisfying the romanticist aesthetic sensibilities of coddled anglophone hipsters from the future” … uh, ‘scuse, mais on peut très bien détester ces pavilions même si on est un pauv’ francophone opprimé par les anglos de Westmount. En fait je gagerais qu’il y a bien plus de francos qui les détestent par expérience et non pas juste en théorie, étant donné la langue d’enseignement d’UQAM.
Il y a sûrement de très bonnes raisons pour sa laideur et ses fautes — l’époque et manque argent et complications et sûrement une bonne bataille entre architectes et fonctionnaires que nous, les hipsters de l’avenir ont oubliées. Mais laissons tomber les vieux stéréotypes, svp…
I also realize that times change, and what was once incredibly chic can turn ugly and then become chic again — think “vintage” furniture or 70’s sunglasses. But I’ve lived a few blocks from UQAM for the past 19 years, and I have seen the neighbourhood transform from quite run-down and depressing and empty to almost chic and bustling, and witnessed the arrival of quite a few nice new buildings — the new library, the cinema, some nice condos, the new UQAM pavilions, And yet, I still do not like the original UQAM nor Place Dupuis, even though it is my philosophy to concentrate on what is good and to downplay what is bad. And they do indeed have some very nice redeeming features — the ceiling of the Banque nationale is incredibly beautiful, for example, and even the clammy darkness of UQAM can be very welcoming on an exceedingly hot and bright day.
But given that I have not succeeded despite my best efforts, I figure it’s not my lack of education or ability to appreciate, but that the buildings are, in fact, just plain not good. How much importance I place on this affront to my coddled anglo sensibilities is another question… I still walk through UQAM on purpose and with pleasure often, and shop at Place Dupuis almost every week, so even something that is so wrong isn’t all that bad you know.
What’s the problem again? It is nice to see old pictures of areas, but the buildings on the right side don’t appear to have any interest architecturally… and were probably in a dismal state when torn down anyway. UQAM is nice
Cyrus,
The problem is that the UQAM building is telling the people on the street:
F**k you. I don’t want to see you, and I sure don’t want you to see me.
The problem is not just the perceived “ugliness” (which is really a matter of taste or fashion), but a problem of function.
A building in such an urban setting must interact with the street with features such as windows and clear entrances.
Windows also have other perks, like letting sunlight in to let the people inside know if it’s day or night outside… :-)
Even on the old black and white picture, it’s quite clear which parts of the buildings are doorways. Can we say the same of the new building?
— X
… oh, also the problem is:
How come they have bigger and nicer trees back then? Shouldn’t we have trees that are older (thus much bigger) by now!
I don’t like the building either, but the analysis here seems to go no further than “Ew! Tacky!”.
The decision-makers likely faced a choice in the 1960s – do we build this popular francophone university downtown with our limited government-funded budget, or not at all? They chose to build it.
Maybe you lot can convince Montréal’s billionaires to donate to UQÀM for some New Urbanist-style renovations, so that they’ll finally have a campus as nice as McGill.
Perhaps a more interesting and constructive way to develop this discussion would be to explore ways this “patrimoine acquis” could be improved? After all, if windows can be cut into the side of a van der Rohe…
I’m all for that. I think what Guy Favereau has done to its inside mall — almost as dreadful as UQAM — is brilliant for a low-cost but high-impact improvement. Change the dark dark floor, leave the existing ceiling, adding some some nice white bits with bright lights here and there. A simple but effective way to make a space much more happy.
I also remember the architect for Complexe Desjardins throwing a mini hissy-fit when they decided to put boutiques along Ste-Catherine street… I think it’s much better now than the parallel but unused indoor passageway that was there before, despite ruining the original “vision”.
But don’t hold your breath. UQAM’s recent financial shenanigans means it won’t be investing in pretty windows or improved lighting or even a bit of paint any time soon :)
20 comments
Sad.
no comment.
More than just sad… heart-wrenching! Were the buildings on the right torn down specifically for UQAM or were they demolished earlier?
Wow, the only recognizable similarity is the church in the back!
I was just in that UQAM building a couple of weeks ago for some lectures. The complete lack of windows on the lower floors of the St. Denis façade – there were some by the elevators, looking out at René Levèsque – “oh yeah, there’s a city out there, almost forgot” -with the lower blockiness blocking the view of the windows at the top floor, creates a sense of “hurry along now, don’t linger along this block” that’s almost palpably hostile to street life, in sharp contrast to the vibrant scene of St. Denis just north of there. How NOT to integrate a university building into the community. What WERE the architects thinking? (Another case of brochure architecture?)
Le 2e immeuble à gauche est toujours présent :
L’université Laval à été démolie pour permettre la construction de l’UQAM mais l’immeuble était alors en ruine suite à un incendie.
Ouf. Ça fait mal. À brailler.
Il faut tout de même voir le côté positif de ces transformations. À l’époque de la construction de l’UQAM, le quartier n’était aucunement ce qu’il est aujourd’hui.
C’est grâce aux étudiants que ce coin à reprit vie et qu’il est devenu animé. Bien que les immeubles de l’université ne sont pas particulièrement attrayant, leurs emplacements sont tout de même stratégique et c’est notamment pour être au coeur du centre-ville et non isolé sur le haut d’une montagne (UDM) que j’ai choisi d’étudier à cette université.
…according to http://www.canadianencyclopedia.ca/index.cfm?PgNm=TCE&Params=A1ARTA0002295 UQAM won a Prix d’Excellence in 1974 if you can believe it. Such and award must entirely be due to the quality of drugs available in the 1970s; I can think of no other possible reason :)
Well, not quite. True, the anti-window policy is uncomprehensible and the cave-like darkness inside oppressive, but there are some neat features — Judith Jasmin has the interior courtyard with the church façade, which would be nice space if only it were cleaned up and lit a bit better, and Hubert-Aquin has an exterior courtyard with the waterfall, and it’s connected directly to the métro…
Luckily, UQAM has learned from its mistakes, and I really, really, really like the new science complex, the Design Pavillion, and the impressive J.-A.-DeSève Pavillion with its very discreet desconstructionist details.
Of course, let’s see what happens with the Voyageur fiasco.
One might wonder if they were not more focused on building a francophone university on the limited capital budget they had (when the anglo-montrealer bankers weren’t busy selling all their bonds at the same time to discipline the Québec government and dissuade it from “over”-spending) than satisfying the romanticist aesthetic sensibilities of coddled anglophone hipsters from the future.
As other commenters have alluded to, the original UQAM building is a product of its times. In the l960s and 70s, mega-projects were the order of the day and the bigger the better. Universities didn’t want to be integrated into the communities, but felt like they needed to be protected enclaves of learning. In fact,inner courtyards were quite popular design features for large projects.
But times change and design impulses change too. What will people say about the new science complex in 30 or 40 years?
J’étudie à l’UQAM depuis 1 an et je regrette presque mon choix à cause de l’architecture des pavillons. C’est sombre, il fait froid, peu importe l’étage, on a toujours l’impression d’être dans un sous-sol. La connexion directe avec le métro est pratique, mais ça entraîne un gros problème: personne ne sort ou entre par les portes extérieures. L’entrée principale du Hubert-Aquin est vraiment une blague.
C’est vrai que les pavillons plus récents sur René-Lévesque et le complexe des sciences sont beaucoup plus conviviaux (pas une réussite économique pour le second…) L’agora du Judith-Jasmin pourrait être intéressante, si elle servait à quelque chose. C’est un corridor.
Je ne sais pas quel impact la construction de l’UQAM a réellement eu sur le coin, j’étais pas là avant et il y a eu pas mal d’autres changements, mais j’ai préféré mon expérience à l’Université Laval, même si le campus est isolé et ridiculement trop grand: pavillons éclairés (même si en mauvais état), lieux publics agréables où on a envie de se tenir.
Je ne sais pas Louis. Bien que beaucoup trop âgée pour être une “hipster”, je déteste l’architecture brutaliste de l’UQAM; par contre cette uni a tout de même l’avantage d’être profondément urbaine, et accessible par métro ou vélo. L’Université Laval est terriblement isolée. Une amie de Québec m’a parlé d’étudiants étrangers de pays chauds qui ne mettent jamais le nez dehors pendant l’hiver, entre les résidences, les pavillons et même le bureau des bourses tous reliés par des tunnels souterrains.
Et newurbanspaces, ce n’est pas utile de traiter les gens de “coddled anglophone hipsters”. Tu ne connais pas le vécu ni l’origine nationale ou de classe des gens qui écrivent ici.
“satisfying the romanticist aesthetic sensibilities of coddled anglophone hipsters from the future” … uh, ‘scuse, mais on peut très bien détester ces pavilions même si on est un pauv’ francophone opprimé par les anglos de Westmount. En fait je gagerais qu’il y a bien plus de francos qui les détestent par expérience et non pas juste en théorie, étant donné la langue d’enseignement d’UQAM.
Il y a sûrement de très bonnes raisons pour sa laideur et ses fautes — l’époque et manque argent et complications et sûrement une bonne bataille entre architectes et fonctionnaires que nous, les hipsters de l’avenir ont oubliées. Mais laissons tomber les vieux stéréotypes, svp…
I also realize that times change, and what was once incredibly chic can turn ugly and then become chic again — think “vintage” furniture or 70’s sunglasses. But I’ve lived a few blocks from UQAM for the past 19 years, and I have seen the neighbourhood transform from quite run-down and depressing and empty to almost chic and bustling, and witnessed the arrival of quite a few nice new buildings — the new library, the cinema, some nice condos, the new UQAM pavilions, And yet, I still do not like the original UQAM nor Place Dupuis, even though it is my philosophy to concentrate on what is good and to downplay what is bad. And they do indeed have some very nice redeeming features — the ceiling of the Banque nationale is incredibly beautiful, for example, and even the clammy darkness of UQAM can be very welcoming on an exceedingly hot and bright day.
But given that I have not succeeded despite my best efforts, I figure it’s not my lack of education or ability to appreciate, but that the buildings are, in fact, just plain not good. How much importance I place on this affront to my coddled anglo sensibilities is another question… I still walk through UQAM on purpose and with pleasure often, and shop at Place Dupuis almost every week, so even something that is so wrong isn’t all that bad you know.
What’s the problem again? It is nice to see old pictures of areas, but the buildings on the right side don’t appear to have any interest architecturally… and were probably in a dismal state when torn down anyway. UQAM is nice
Cyrus,
The problem is that the UQAM building is telling the people on the street:
F**k you. I don’t want to see you, and I sure don’t want you to see me.
The problem is not just the perceived “ugliness” (which is really a matter of taste or fashion), but a problem of function.
A building in such an urban setting must interact with the street with features such as windows and clear entrances.
Windows also have other perks, like letting sunlight in to let the people inside know if it’s day or night outside… :-)
Even on the old black and white picture, it’s quite clear which parts of the buildings are doorways. Can we say the same of the new building?
— X
… oh, also the problem is:
How come they have bigger and nicer trees back then? Shouldn’t we have trees that are older (thus much bigger) by now!
I don’t like the building either, but the analysis here seems to go no further than “Ew! Tacky!”.
The decision-makers likely faced a choice in the 1960s – do we build this popular francophone university downtown with our limited government-funded budget, or not at all? They chose to build it.
Maybe you lot can convince Montréal’s billionaires to donate to UQÀM for some New Urbanist-style renovations, so that they’ll finally have a campus as nice as McGill.
Perhaps a more interesting and constructive way to develop this discussion would be to explore ways this “patrimoine acquis” could be improved? After all, if windows can be cut into the side of a van der Rohe…
I’m all for that. I think what Guy Favereau has done to its inside mall — almost as dreadful as UQAM — is brilliant for a low-cost but high-impact improvement. Change the dark dark floor, leave the existing ceiling, adding some some nice white bits with bright lights here and there. A simple but effective way to make a space much more happy.
I also remember the architect for Complexe Desjardins throwing a mini hissy-fit when they decided to put boutiques along Ste-Catherine street… I think it’s much better now than the parallel but unused indoor passageway that was there before, despite ruining the original “vision”.
But don’t hold your breath. UQAM’s recent financial shenanigans means it won’t be investing in pretty windows or improved lighting or even a bit of paint any time soon :)