All of those who are familiar with the practice of architecture are aware of the multifarious mechanisms, legislations and regulations that pervade the discipline. What begins as a free-flowing, gratifying and creative exercise in constituting abstractly shaped components (to reflect the moods, emotions and narratives) in the first year of architectural education, soon becomes encumbered with the continual addition of new constraints in subsequent years. Despite these limitations, imparted in the form of project briefs and levied through local and national by-laws or reference books compiled by European authors and architects, the condition of the architect who graduates after five or more years of education is dreary. Their entrance into the workforce is met with further revelations. In addition to fragmenting work such that each worker—whether those developing the blueprints or those implementing them on the ground— is blissfully unaware of the complete picture, each step in the process is saddled with the responsibility of fulfilling laws and demands that seldom leave any room for creative expression.

This culture of control and ambiguity further seeps into the way buildings are finished, presented, and photographed. Clean lines, evened-out plasterwork and several coats of paint hide the skeleton that supports the structure. This packaging rarely reveals the structural systems that keep the building standing erect. It is no wonder, then, that it takes years, if not decades, for architects to gauge the complexity of architecture and building construction. An architect’s career begins at 40, they say. In a system that presents the illusion of efficiency under the garb of monotonous repetitive tasks that do little to enhance the designer’s knowledge, gaining expertise in the art of building will come only after decades of practice. This way of practice also translates into the way spaces are presented and photographed—again, cleanly engineered, with not a soul in sight. These images, devoid of life and its impact on shaping designed spaces, manage to further alienate the process of creation from the process of inhabitation and in tandem, the requirements that emerge from it.

Disenchanted by aspects such as these, Paris-based architect Marc Leschelier embarked upon disparate paths, to research and to build as a form of art. The Parisian architect, now also a sculptor, constructs without the intention of conflating his creations into habitable or usable spaces. The French sculptor scours spaces that are exempted from urban regulations, to utilise the 'construction process as a visualisation of one of architecture’s inner dimensions: the union in the masonry of opposing materials, the fluid and solid matter, the brick and the mortar.'

He believes that the nature of architecture is intrinsically linked to the dichotomous union of disparate materials and elements, and the complementary aspects that attribute contrasting entities. Leschelier refers to his way of building and sculpting as ‘pre-architecture.’

The French architect and sculptor constructs both permanent and temporary installations. His work, an expression of dualities that pervade the discipline of architecture, seeks to raise the question: what can architecture be if it is not designed for use? This query establishes architecture as a metalanguage, which is now employed by Leschelier to sculpt architectural installations evocative of construction sites. His latest creation, Pavilion X, is a demountable structure that was designed and built to be presented by Ketabi Bourdet gallery in the gardens of the Hôtel de Maisons, in Paris, France, as part of the Design at Large program for the first edition of Design Miami/ Paris, held from October 17 to the 22, 2023.

Pavilion X, just like Leschelier’s other works, exists at the brink of sculpture and architecture. Aluminium frames are clad in cement textile that was previously crumpled and stiffened by the action of water. The sculptural installation, cuboid in shape, is decorated with uniquely configured panels on each face. “Each of the façade panels is unique, allowing the pavilion to contrast the plastic qualities of a sculptural form with those of a rational object. The function of the building is not defined, however, the user is offered a space that engages the impression rather than the use,” an excerpt from the press release mentions, describing the prefabricated installation.

Prefabrication systems have increasingly interested Leschelier. While most architects view it as a threat to their creative freedom, Leschelier views the processes of prefabrication and building components within one’s studio space, as one that grants him more freedom—by reducing dependence on other professionals. For Leschelier, this enables him to develop an architectural vocabulary that exists outside urban regulation and construction standards.

In an attempt to understand more about Leschelier’s practice, his inspirations and aspirations, and the processes that shaped Pavilion X, we presented the sculptor with a series of queries. His responses are enlisted below:

Almas Sadique: Tell us a little about some of your earliest inspirations and experiences in tandem with the creative disciplines.

Marc Leschelier: I have been very influenced by Viennese Actionism. It became strangely a base to think of architecture for me. I tried to integrate the chaotic and direct processes of this art movement in my discipline which was always quite opposite to chaos. After my studies, I worked for SANAA in Tokyo and Christian Kerez in Zürich. What was great about working with Christian Kerez was that he had a very direct approach to his design process, sometimes we were building super-large models without any precise plans.

I have also always had a passion for anti-architects, starting with the radical architects who created only works on paper, followed by Jean Prouvé, Konrad Wachsmann, Simon Ungers, Raimund Abraham and the late works of Sigurd Lewerentz, who opened up new paradigms from a constructive point of view. I can only underline Mark Wigley's exceptional work in tracing the history of these approaches, often at odds with the architectural discipline.

Almas: What did your journey look like, from studying architecture, and then moving on to sculpting installations inspired by it?

Marc: I worked for years in the architectural discipline, then I quit this vocation and worked as a librarian for two years in the National Architecture Library in Paris. I found it great to be surrounded with so much knowledge I could dig into, and at the same time, get paid for it. Besides that job, I started to teach architecture and develop some experimental exercises. I took a studio and did some exhibitions, then I got a year residency at Villa Medicis in Rome and started to do bricklaying there after seeing the magnificent Bath of Caracalla. It was the start of my practice where I am the architect and the builder at the same time. I always wanted to be an independent builder, to practice construction as a pure art form, not compromised by the "construction police", as I call them, who deliver building permits.

Almas: What is the inspiration behind the design of Pavilion X?

Marc: All my installations to date have been created in situ and could never be moved. This is the first time I have created a pavilion that can be dismantled. The logic was obviously completely different. Technically, the pavilion is inspired by the ideas of Jean Prouvé, with a main aluminium structure to which concrete fabric panels are attached.

Almas: What is the best way to interact with your architectural sculptures?

Marc: As my constructions have no function (I never design them with a preconceived use), the best interaction would be to read them as open books. What I create can be termed as naked architecture, a pure skeleton, the connection between the elements is never hidden, which is rarely the case in architecture. Most of the time, I am very disappointed by architecture because the skeleton is always hidden. When you make physical things, the vocabulary is based on physical properties and to me, the real gift a designer can give is when the person who sees the object can understand visually how it works, especially today, as society gets more and more unreadable. Even if your work is a mess, at least, something has to appear clearly.

Almas: What is the construction process for Pavilion X? Where are the materials acquired from?

Marc: All the materials used in the pavilion come from industry, and were shaped and assembled in my workshop in a totally artisanal way. The concrete fabric was purchased from freeway retailers. I have worked a lot with Concrete Canvas, a company from the UK that has sponsored some of my projects. Concrete Canvas is a geotextile that is used, for example, to maintain embankments or the sides of motorways. I used this cement-filled textile, which hardens under the action of water, to brace the main aluminium structure. Like many of Jean Prouvé's pavilions, the pavilion is detached from the ground. It rests on cement blocks mechanically attached by chains, bolted together to allow, once again, the pavilion to be completely dismantled and reassembled elsewhere.

Almas: How are the materials used by you typically disposed off once the installation is dismantled?

Marc: When my constructions are not permanent, they are recycled by specialised companies. But when Ketabi Bourdet Gallery and Design Miami gave me the opportunity to show my last work, Pavilion X, which is a fully demountable pavilion, it gave me the opportunity to develop a new approach, more ecologic, which allow these works to travel from places to places, and not produce any waste.

Almas: In a lot of cases, the bricks and boulders used to create your sculptures are not assembled in ways that would be able to support a structure. What does this dichotomous assemblage convey?

Marc: Yes, it is unconventional bricklaying and it would be forbidden on a real construction site, that is why I build them like this. It goes against the norms of construction and the rules that were imposed by non-architects or non-thinkers on our architectural discipline. The beams and columns I have built still hold at the time we speak and they are not absurd, they are just designed according to the force of gravity and to their own properties, not according to a law that has nothing to do with architecture. Of course, I had to build all these constructions myself to understand them and evaluate where the limit is. My idea was always to develop a vocabulary off-the-system and be able to express something through the medium of construction, as it became today mainly a product of bureaucracy.

Almas: What is the process of making your sculptures? What inspires the first sketch, the first prototype?

Marc: It is quite organic, it changes all the time. What I taught in school was to develop something out of no site, no preconceived program, no desire for shapes. It is the most difficult thing because that is the opposite of the normal process. I was trying to teach independence in the creative process. I do the same in my work, I start with an assemblage of materials I like for the way it exists in this world, maybe this detail is against the idea of a well-made product, but it expresses something of our time, it shows a new approach for construction and then I develop my building from that starting point and it can be expressed through a drawing, a model or a mock-up.

Almas: Please elaborate upon the concept of ‘pre-architecture.’

Marc: It was important for me to name the genre of architecture I create because I assume that it is not pure architecture, it is full of openings, it invites rain inside, so I thought it is a gesture that comes before architecture: a pre-architecture. It is incomplete, it is frozen in an intermediate state, like a worksite, and that is precisely this unfinished state that is the right plasticity to express what I want to express.

Almas: Is the dominance of the colour 'grey' in your work intentional? What does it mean?

Marc: At the beginning, it was not intentional. I was just trying to make something with the cheapest construction materials I could find, which was the concrete blocks. Then, I fell in love with their plasticity, their abrasiveness is very beautiful to me. The mortar is also grey, so when you build a wall with blocks and mortar you keep this grey palette but with different textures. I loved this tone-on-tone aspect, then it probably became a theme in my work. Having one colour also makes the objects appear clearer. But the other main reason is that I only use construction materials, to root my work in the architectural vocabulary. Even the textile is made for highways. There is no meaning behind it, just the intention of being raw and working with the construction industry.

Almas: Do you intend to construct larger sculptures?

Marc: Yes, absolutely, usually, the context dictates this, but I understood with time that the larger the constructions are, the more people consider them as architecture and not sculpture, which is a very important thing for me as I try to develop a different genre of architecture.

Almas: What's NEXT for you?

Marc: I am involved in many projects at the same time but usually only the third or even less is going to be built. I recently had a commission in Alaska and another one on a beautiful land in Australia which is very exciting to me as I love extreme landscapes. I would love to build in the desert or on water. These commissions are future sculpture parks and artist residencies where I was asked to build a space with no fixed functions, which fit quite well with the philosophy of my work.