The first time he, Renzo Piano, and Bernard Plattner, his project manager, stood on the site, they immediately realised Klee was not someone who could be contained within an “ordinary building”; Paul Klee would need far more breathing space. And then there was that hill, which they immediately photographed. Not a very large hill, admittedly, but a very beautiful one. And of course they also took in the swathe and the noise made by the motorway. In those semi-rural surroundings the motorway was a clear indicator of where they were: in the middle of Bern’s metropolitan area, at the end of the 20th century.

A place of silence amid the buzz of traffic
The work began by looking very closely at the area and the terrain. Paul Klee’s grave at the Schosshalden Cemetery right next to the grounds was one of the first discoveries. The motorway had to be accepted for it was: not a fundamental evil that had to be negated and hidden but a pulsing artery of modern-day civilisation. In other words the project had to work with the motorway, not against it. That is how the meticulous study of the terrain’s dynamics generated the first ideas for the project.

Hills, both natural and artificial
Renzo Piano was struck by how the hill in the foreground acted as a backdrop in front of the horizon of wooded hills in the distance. The onlooker’s gaze automatically linked the foreground with the background. This special, direct link between near and far turned the area in between into an island within the landscape.

Using the principles of classical picture composition Piano then sketched out in his preliminary project a distinct, discrete, almost mysterious site for the future Zentrum Paul Klee. In it three hills shaped like undulations blended into the terrain, transforming the entire area into a landscape sculpture. As “art-ificial” structures they were to house the new cultural institution. From the motorway the unusual line of the roof is visible for around ten seconds. Visitors arriving from the park would not know initially whether the three mysterious waves were artificial or natural. The dimensions would only become clear once they reached the main façade: the middle wave is 12 m high, and the glass frontage facing the motorway is over 150 m in length. The roofs cast deep shadows onto the façade deeply offset behind the eaves.

An exacting project
The design of the Centre is both highly functional and high-tech. What at first sight may modestly appear as “nature tamed” must in reality meet the most exacting demands.

The preliminary project resolves the contradiction that exists at many museums, which to-and-fro between something of a cultural fair on the one hand and a place of quiet contemplation on the other. The public area is situated directly behind the main façade. This backbone area runs parallel with the motorway; it is both bright and loud, and easily accommodates the flow of visitors coming and going. Then comes a change of pace. “It’s almost as if you take your shoes off,” says Piano, boldly comparing this contrast to the transition from profane to sacred. Deep inside the Middle Hill lie the exhibition rooms, followed by the “Florentine Galleries”, where works hang tightly together like the collections of the Baroque period. And at the very heart, hidden as if in a cave, is the archive.

Twilight, not daylight
Renzo Piano rejects comparisons with the Fondation Beyeler in Basel, which he also designed. He points out that it’s not his style to repeat himself. What’s more each new project defines new tasks. Piano sees personal style as a golden cage into which the architect locks himself, forcing him to start from scratch with each new task.

The Fondation Beyeler is a clearly defined collection of oil paintings capable of withstanding up to 240 lux, which is why a sophisticated ceiling of light and lighting makes sense. By contrast the Zentrum Paul Klee will be showing mainly light-sensitive works that can stand a maximum of 80 lux. The future Centre will therefore be a twilight museum. The daylight that trickles in through the roof is regulated and dampened. And the further you penetrate into the hills, the less daylight there will be and the calmer the atmosphere will become. Inside the Centre a celebratory, sober atmosphere will prevail, a mood in stark contrast with the bright, bustling activity in the open area of the Museum’s backbone. But in here, visitors will be far, far away from everyday life.

A succession of keels
Renzo Piano immediately had shipping in mind for the design of the hills, with a ship's keel as the perfect shape. Accordingly he saw the Centre as a succession of three ship’s keels. The structure would remain visible to its future visitors, with only a light-regulating, semi-transparent sail obscuring it in part. Under these “upturned ships’ bellies” partitions will serve to define the individual exhibition rooms, without affecting in the slightest the impact of the space as a whole. Piano firmly believes that because Klee preferred smaller formats for his work, it was out of the question to create small exhibition rooms. It was the size of the oeuvre as a whole that was crucial, not the individual works.

Piano also believes that the Zentrum Paul Klee will not have to contend with the same problems as many other monographic museums. Paul Klee is a prominent figure who reinvented himself daily. Paul Klee’s years at the Bauhaus provide the link with the great artists of Classical Modernism. What’s more, it is not just a museum that is being planned but a research facility, an academy for contemporary art history, a forum of exchange with new forms of mediation.

The Zentrum Paul Klee will allow the City of Bern to step onto the stage shared by the world’s major museums. And to its size it must also add greatness. Which is something Renzo Piano’s project certainly has.