municipal office Hovorčovice

In praise of the ordinary, the extravagance of banality!

I walk toward the gable, where silhouettes are flickering. Through the large window, I recognize the mayor, who is just closing the door behind him. A city council meeting is about to begin. But that doesn’t concern me for now. I see a spacious public area opening up before me, leading out to the old village green. Young people are sitting on the steps, and the city council is gathering behind the windows of the hall. I step inside and find myself in a small but generously vaulted space. My attention is drawn to a staircase winding around a solid column. On my way up, I pass the assistant. We’re both in a bit of a hurry, but there’s always time for a quick coffee and some gossip. I ask her to say hello to the mayor and, with views of the pond, I climb one floor higher. Instantly, I’m enveloped by a play of reflections and light filtering through a veil of decorative bricks. I run my hand along the cool railing. Moments after knocking on the door, I’m greeted by the building administration officer. A strange mix of stress, excitement, and pride flutters in my stomach. I’m ready to be one of the “locals” too…

In our approach to the Hovorčovice municipal office project, we spent so long debating whether the municipal office is a proud symbol or a quiet servant that we ended up somewhere in the middle. Maybe that’s why we didn’t win anything.
We began, as usual, by exploring the site. What exactly are Hovorčovice? Is it a village, a suburb of Prague, or perhaps even a future, independent city? The elementary school has a very village-like feel, while the high school is more urban; the area around the church by the pond is very rural, but the rest of the town feels more like something the capital city has spilt out into its surroundings. From the start, we sensed Hovorčovice’s somewhat unconventional position. Or perhaps an increasingly conventional one, for which architects haven’t yet managed to come up with a label?
We captured the village atmosphere. We designed a simple little house with a gabled roof, facing a pleasant old village green; then a post office booth sprang up next to it, enclosing a small piazzetta; and on the other side, we expected a bit of a mess, so we put up a fence there. The quiet, shared thought that the design wasn’t quite right was voiced more loudly by the fifth team member, who, incidentally, joined just as the project was nearly finished.
In our thought process, we returned to the fundamental questions of what a municipal office is and what Hovorčovice are. Immersed in the pleasant village atmosphere, we decided not to turn our backs on this mood, even if it might be a bit nostalgic. But we needed something more—after all, we’re building a municipal office that will stand in this spot for 50, 100, maybe even 200 years. If society is now facing the complete fragmentation of time and space, can we even imagine what it will be like in 100 years?
Our answer is a building that strikes a balance. A building that is, in part, a representation of Hovorčovice, and, in part, a dream of Hovorčovice—both past and future. A building that grows out of the remains of the former village toward an uncertain future, one that elevates the ordinariness of the place toward architecture as an event—a crossroads of stories that could emerge thanks to the building.
Perhaps that is why we hid the generous interior, completely unlike anything one would normally find in a village, behind a veil of orange fence tiles.  Or perhaps we simply liked those tiles and the staircase.