GrahamH

That is a good point – it’s more than likely the interiors, not least the once-retail spaces on the ground floors, are probably non-existant now as a result of the blocking up & ‘conversion’ job.
I don’t know – if the interiors are in tatters, a replacement superstructure still wouldn’t detract from the facade’s contribution to streetscape which is the primary concern. Of course the buildings’ integrity is what’s at stake in such a case – but if the interiors are thoroughly unremarkable or are in bits, while the buildings could be put to a productive new use with a new structure to the rear then perhaps…it’s always tricky to know where to draw the line. If part of the original structure could be incorporated into the new section to offer a connection and a sense of coherence with the external facades, then I suppose it would become more acceptable. Exactly how you’d do that now…

I’d hate to see these buildings demolished, I pass them every couple of days and they really help define this part of Pearse St – not just by forming the street, but their architecture give the place a unique identity. The terrace as a whole is quite unusual, there’s nothing else to compare it to in the city centre; it’s almost like a Victorian version of a Wide Streets Commission development, more intimate in scale being only 3 storeys and of red brick, but featuring regular window placement and an unusually level parapet. It’d kind of remind you of the doomed York St terrace for some reason…
It also works in tandem with the three storey brown terrace across the road, and the other unusual William IVish houses next to the Trinity Capital.
To chop em off at the end diminishes the terrace’s impact, and undermines the established character of the street.
Yes there’s some black spots on this stretch of the street already, but no major ones, and none on this side.
What does the terrace no favours is that it’s manky dirty and north facing, giving the buildings an intimidating appearance. That brickwork could glow red if cleaned.

Does anyone know what these shop-like units are under the the bridge next door?

They’re one of those features you just always wonder about but never get round to finding out about 🙂
Were they an 1890s version of these regenerating coffee kiosks, popped in by the Loop Line builders, maybe in an effort to earn some cash from the acres of otherwise untouchable land they created? The railings appear to date from around then.

Have to laugh at the contractors working on the Boardwalk – they’ve just covered the most recently erected handrail in sheets of plastic and parcel tape to protect it from The Attack of airborne detritus 🙂

Wonder if the open ones are doing any decent trade – I passed them today and the man in the newsagent one looked bored senseless; then again staff tend to in most stores so maybe that’s not the best indicator…

Agreed about the boardwalk kiosks, they do work well – just being flippant earlier – however the wood cladding is in an very poor state on both of them and requires immediate attention – they look so tatty.

Here’s the Irish Times article about the pavilion from last week, sums it up very well – you probably got it via e-mail anyway…

Dail’s simple security box conceals complex structure

The new security pavilion outside the Dáil has a calm presence, deftness of touch and displays confidence, writes Emma Cullinan.

The simplest objects can mask the complexities in their making.

This is the case with a building which is so transparent that passers’ by may not even notice it at first, despite its prominent position.

The new security pavilion outside the Dáil in Kildare Street, Dublin 2, is a glass box tucked in behind the traditional railings, whose roof line barely peeks above the iron uprights.

The complexities came in both the design and the bureaucracy involved.

“It took a lot of persuasion and consultation to get this building here,” says monitoring architect Angela Rolfe, “because a fine 18th century building demands an excellent contemporary building in its grounds to enhance the space rather than detract from it.”

It certainly takes some structure to stand in front of the Georgian mansion that is Leinster House, designed by Richard Cassels in 1745, and the wings that house the library and museum, by Thomas Newenham Deane and his son, Thomas Manly Deane, which were added in 1890.

The new “Welcoming Pavilion” could be considered as phase two for architects Bucholz McEvoy, which created the two glass pavilions for the Department of the Taoiseach at the other side of this building complex on Merrion Row a few years ago.

In her search for a dynamic young practice to design this, Angela Rolfe was told about Bucholz McEvoy who were then working on Fingal County Hall (with BDP), a building that gave Irish county council office design a shake up. Now many local authorities are commissioning good architects to create their HQs.

While those manning the entrances to visitor attractions and car-parks the world over are often confined to timber or plastic boxes, it was always the intention of the OPW to have a splendid pavilion for their security staff to sit in.

“We absolutely set out to have a beautiful structure,” says Rolfe. And they’ve achieved that.

Glass buildings are the rage for many good reasons, not least their ability to sit lightly beside older buildings.

Here the structure achieves the gentler security presence the OPW wanted, rather than assaulting visitors with a fortress-style box.

As you approach you feel you are being watched, actually, you know you are being watched because you can see the security staff looking at you.

The new pavilion is designed to control the movement of people. In the past visitors would stroll in through the vehicle entrance and wait to be spotted by a security guard.

Now cars have their entrance; TDs and other staff have a quick walk-through in which they just have to give the nod to security staff; while the general public enter via a ramp for proper processing.

This includes parties of school children who can be kept in the “holding bay” at one end of the building, with handy timber benches for them to slouch and slide on.

But the glass also allows visitors and passers by to see into the courtyard beyond, which ties the trio of history, politics and learning together: the National Museum, Leinster House and the National Library.

No clumsy columns obscure the view through, instead the building is supported by slender steel legs and in the roof great, no-nonsense glulam Siberian x-beams take care of the lateral forces (at the tops of the columns steel brackets rotate slightly to allow for lateral movement).

The architects worked with engineer Niccolo Baldicini, who specialises in aircraft engineering.

The aviation industry can’t have tolerances of 20mm here or there – as is possible in many buildings – such stresses might cause wings to fall off.

The colour of the beams was chosen to complement the shade of the stone on the museum (an excellent example of Irish decorative stonework), which can be seen through the roof.

There are more deft details. At the point where the larch beams cross, the strips of timber interlink, like fingers in a clasped hand, in such a way as to negate the need for bolts which would “interrupt the flow”.

The various elements in this building connect well: the structure was made by an Italian firm, Polar, and shipped to Ireland.

“They are good at glass, steel and timber,” says Karen McEvoy. “While many people may specialise in each of these materials, this company is good at combining all three and takes great care with the junctions between them.”

While some of these junctions slide discreetly together others are more extrovert in their expression with fat Frankenstein-like bolts securing slabs of metal. It makes for a good mix of sleek and chunky throughout.

With few places to hide in such a transparent building, the finishes and joins are important, as is the concealment of support mechanisms and everyday equipment.

The wiring for the building runs up behind the steel columns and sits on top of the larch beams, while other electrical equipment and anything that needs storing is held in the long countertop that runs along the centre of the building.

Made by Ross Furniture, this comprises upright oak slats topped with a busy green Connemara marble that shows how natural materials can get away with flourishes that synthetics just can’t carry off: this would look gaudy in plastic.

Green Irish marble seemed such an appropriate material with which to adorn the entrance to Ireland’s parliament building, says Merritt Bucholz (although Italians actually quarry and cut the stone).

It also works, along with the salvaged teak floor, as a counter to the sleekness of the rest of the structure.

“With such engineered details we wanted to add in materials that have the ability to speak,” says Bucholz.

One jarring element is the X-ray portal, which is more slender than most, but until all companies follow the likes of Apple in turning everyday objects into designer items, we will be lumbered with the devices on offer.

The interruption of nature, both outside and inside the pavilion, does contrast beautifully with the highly engineered simplicity of the box.

At one point the building draws inwards to accommodate a tree and beneath one of the benches a glass wall, filled with wood chips, bends in to make way for a tree root which couldn’t be cut.

Plane trees that were planted just over 100 years ago, in an arc, dictated the shape of this building, as did the outer railings and entrance road.

So the building performs acrobatics around the set points to create a trapezoid through tree trapeze.

Yet the building doesn’t look as if it has struggled to gain its shape.

It has a calm presence, deftness of touch and displays confidence.

Everything’s here for a reason and the various elements have been balanced beautifully.

© The Irish Times

Yes – any decent pics anywhere?

This is a highly highly sensitive location – it is Dublin, the image of the city presented to the rest of the world, whatever about our own enjoyment of the location. It is more Dublin than Merrion Square or the Custom House or the Spike will ever be.
That classic river view with O’Donovan Rossa & Fr Matthew bridges and matching balustrading along the quays ought not be touched with a bargepole.
Whereas it is generally accepted now that striking modern architecture works well next to older structures or locations, this should not be an excuse to build anywhere, supposedly because we’re so ‘enlightened’ now.

Leave the location alone. I know it’s a typical reactionary response but really, what is wrong with the existing bridges? It seems to be something of a CC hobby now to litter the riverscape with ‘striking’ new structures…

Agreed – at this stage it is in a way as much a commemoration of those who died as it is of the 1966 commemoration itself.
There’s a sense of history in there nearly moreso from 1966.
It is of it’s time and it’s something of a novelty to have a piece of 60s landscaping and architecture in such immaculate condition. Short of the whole square being redeveloped I think it should be left alone.

There’s a huge ‘dam’ just gone down on Eden Quay recently, wider than any of the openings in the walls on the older Boardwalk.
Here’s the lovely nerw wood going down – the craftmanship in laying the timbers is superb – from the cutting to the joining to the bolting down, very impressive.

Unfortunately it looks like there’s going to be a rather nasty problem with this new stretch of Boardwalk – over the past few days most of the brand new, unfinished handrail has been covered, and I mean covered in seagull droppings 😮
Never seen anything like it – whether it was just a one off or not I don’t know (not exactly an expert on the bowel movements of sea birds) but if this this is going to be the state of affairs along here on a permanent basis I’d gladly stick to Eden Quay, warts and all (yes it’s that bad :))
I pity the the person who has to sand it down for finishing…

Ah out comes the copper like clockwork – it’s become the new polished granite 🙂
The corner glazing is interesting, but that flat pararpet is as boring as I don’t know what, and is reminiscent of the worst 1990s apartment schemes in Dublin.