Pritzker Prize 2018: for Balkrishna Doshi, architecture,

urbanism and landscape are inseparable

9 May, 2016 By William JR Curtis

Doshi’s work mirrors his life: influences from overseas are combined with a
transformation of Indian culture and tradition
‘India, even before the time of the Buddha, had a civilisation which was peculiarly her own…
The philosophy and religion contained in that civilisation had a potent influence, not only in
absorbing the artistic elements derived from the culture of other countries, but also in
reshaping and transforming them according to her own ideals.’ EB Havell, 1913
The development of a modern architectural tradition resembles a delta with many streams.
Some have dried up, others have been nourished by subterranean springs, others again have
moved forward with renewed strength. The historian is obliged to sidestep the trite and short-
term labels used to designate changing fashions and to look out for the works of lasting
quality. As usual these do not fit passing categories as they fuse diverse influences around a
core of driving images and intentions. The best buildings have a way of combining new and old,
local and general, in their ideas and forms. In effect, a tradition is formed from a string of
such works of high intensity that have greater staying power than mere formalist exercises,
precisely because they embody a world view, or a symbolic content, in forms of enduring
presence and resonance.
Looking back to the 1970s and the ’80s it is less the noisily discussed ‘movements’ and ‘isms’ of
the period that stand out; rather it is the individual works of substance. These fit no easy
stylistic or ideological pigeonholes: one thinks of buildings as varied as the Museum of Roman
Art in Mérida by Rafael Moneo, the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank by Norman Foster, the
Supreme Court in Mexico City by Teodoro González de Léon, the official Presidential Guest
House in Cartagena, Colombia by Rogelio Salmona, the Myyrmäki Church near Helsinki by Juha
Leiviskä, the Fujisawa Gymnasium by Fumihiko Maki, the Koshino House by Tadao Ando, the
National Institute of Immunology in New Delhi by Raj Rewal, or, to come to the point, the
architectural studio ‘Sangath’ in Ahmedabad by Balkrishna Doshi. Each of these works has its
unique order, but also has its special pedigree, blending strands of the Modern Movement with
concepts derived from earlier traditions.

Doshi ATIRA low cost housing Ahmedabad 1959 61

Source: WJR Curtis
Doshi, ATIRA low-cost housing, Ahmedabad
Balkrishna Doshi addressing his student by W J R Curtis
Source: W J R Curtis
Balkrishna Doshi addressing students on steps of open-air classroom to rear of his
own School of Architecture, Ahmedabad, 1966-68
 Doshi own studio known as Sangath Ahmedabad preparatory sketch 1979
Source: WJR Curtis
Doshi own studio known as ‘Sangath’, Ahmedabad, preparatory sketch, 1979
The trajectory of Balkrishna Doshi has been guided by the need to create an architecture and
urbanism fusing features of International Modernism with a deep reading of Indian realities
and traditions. Born in Pune in 1927, Doshi came of age in the late ’40s, a period marked by the
hopes surrounding the Independence of India and the traumas following Partition and the
creation of Pakistan. After studies in Bombay he found his way to England then to the atelier
of Le Corbusier in Paris in the early ’50s at precisely the moment that plans were being drawn
up for the new city of Chandigarh and for four buildings in Ahmedabad. After this
apprenticeship in Paris, Doshi moved briefly to Chandigarh, then permanently to Ahmedabad
where he helped to supervise the construction of the Mill Owner’s Association Building by Le
Corbusier, and was intensely involved with other projects such as the low-vaulted Sarabhai
House which was steered by Jean-Louis Véret. This was a rigorous training and Doshi learned a
language from the inside in day-to-day practice, first of all in the design phase in Paris, then
in construction in India.

‘Looking back to the 1970s and the ’80s it is less the noisily discussed
‘movements’ and ‘isms’ of the period that stand out; rather it is the individual
works of substance’

But it was also an introduction to a certain utopian Modernism which matched, to some degree,
Nehru’s socialist modernisation programme for India. In addition to this progressive ethos
which informed the ‘green city’ of Chandigarh, there was the desire to return to roots after
the years of British colonial occupation. Doshi’s formation and emergence as an architect
occurred in Ahmedabad, a city with a strong industrial base founded on textiles, yet with an
equally strong engagement with rural crafts. After all, this had been the home of Gandhi’s
independence movement and of one of its main symbols, the home-spun ‘khadi’ cloth. In
addition, there was a rich architectural heritage including mosques, tanks and stepped wells of
the 14th to 16th centuries, and ruined temples from the Hindu Solanki dynasty such as the
Surya sun temple at Modhera (11th century). At an early stage Doshi sensed the need to
reconcile country and city, to draw upon the resources of deeply embedded local traditions
while also responding to the universalising drive of Modernism.
Doshi AR G2 Section drawing by Doshi of LeC Millowners 31 Oct 1952 Scan0001
Source: Fondation Le Corbusier
Lateral section of Mill Owner’s Association Building, Ahmedabad, 1951-54, drawn by
Doshi, dated 31/10/1952
stepped well Gujarat 15th century by WJR Curtis 1984
Source: WJR Curtis
Stepped well, Gujarat, 15th century
Le Corbusier Mill Owners Association Building east facade seen across River
Sabarmati
Source: WJR Curtis
Le Corbusier, Mill Owner’s Association Building, east facade seen across River
Sabarmati
Doshi’s earliest buildings inevitably bore the stamp of Le Corbusier, although he gradually
emancipated himself from his master. The ATIRA low-cost housing (1957-60) in Ahmedabad
drew upon Le Corbusier’s vaulted types but restated these in a robust form providing
protected thresholds and rear courts at a scale based on that of a village. The Institute of
Indology (1957-60) established a strong institutional presence with its formal geometry and its
protruding balconies in concrete. It found a middle way between the local Gujarati traditions
of trabeated construction in stone and wood, and the principles although not the direct forms
of Le Corbusier. Doshi’s own house (1959-61) in the leafy suburb of Ellis Bridge was based on a
square plan with internal slots of structure establishing different living zones. Constructed
from cheap local brick, the house is protected from the fierce sunlight and heat by concrete
panels based on traditional chhajjas (protective ledges) and jharokhas (overhanging balconies).
Unlike some of the literal neo-Corbusians working elsewhere in India, Doshi was determined not
to use brise-soleil, but rather to transform past usages into modern terms. He was interested
in the spirit not the letter.

‘The development of a modern architectural tradition resembles a delta with

many streams’

In 1962, Louis Kahn came to Ahmedabad at the instigation of Vikram Sarabhai (and on the
advice of Doshi) to design the Indian Institute of Management, in effect a business school on
an American model. Rather like Palladio’s clients in Vicenza, Le Corbusier’s and Kahn’s belonged
to an elite of interconnected families. Most were mill owners and nearly all of them were Jain
with a long tradition of supporting religious, educational and cultural institutions. They wished
to modernise their city while linking it to a much wider world. Kahn’s IIM was conceived as a
sort of citadel of learning with a figure-ground pattern of diagonal dormitories and
interlocking squares.
Le Corbusier and Doshi visiting Le Corbusiers Shodhan House Ahmedabad in
construction 1955
Le Corbusier and Doshi visiting Le Corbusier’s Shodhan House, Ahmedabad, in
construction, 1955
 Louis Kahn Indian Institute of Management Ahmedabad
Source: WJR Curtis
Louis I Kahn, Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad, 1963-72.
Where Le Corbusier constructed principally in bare concrete, Kahn worked with bold archaic
forms combining brick arches, cylindrical towers and walls. IIM was the prototype for many
later institutional works in the educational sector in India. Where Doshi himself was concerned,
Kahn was another sentinel of principle providing forms and a philosophy to be absorbed but not
copied directly.
Kahn’s influence can be sensed in Doshi’s School of Architecture (1966-68) in Ahmedabad, a
building based on an interlocking section and an extension of the ground plane. The vocabulary
is that of a simple industrial loft combining concrete slabs, brick walls and skylights, but the
space is fluid and encourages an interaction of people and ideas. The shaded loggias and
protective overhangs in turn encouraged the flow of air across the entire building. Doshi was
the principal founder of the school which rapidly gained an international reputation. In addition
to teaching, he founded research programmes into the Indian environment that eventually
developed into the activities of the Vastu Shilpa Foundation later housed in Sangath. While the
school building relied on a straightforward structural rationalism in its tectonic expression, the
spaces in and around it were inspired by the traditional Indian townscape.  

For Doshi, architecture, urbanism and landscape are inseparable. From Le Corbusier he
absorbed a desire to reconcile industrialism with the supposed ‘essential joys’ of light, space
and greenery. But like his contemporaries in Team 10, Doshi rejected free-standing objects in
favour of the spaces between. His various housing projects for industrial townships in the 1960s
and ’70s (Gujarat State Fertilizers, Baroda, 1964-69, Electronics Corporation of India, 1968-
71, and the Indian Farmers Fertiliser Cooperative, Kalol, 1970-73), established basic types
using courtyards, throughways, terraces and shaded terraces. He disposed these in geometrical
configurations combining privacy with orientation to prevailing winds. Again many primary
lessons were learned from the vernacular. At the same time Doshi’s planning geometries with
their chevron forms and diagonal arrays reflected the influence of Kahn’s IIM.

Sangath view over platforms vaults and water channels towards road
Source: WJR Curtis
Sangath, view over platforms, vaults and water channels towards road and open
fields to south of site.

‘For Doshi, architecture, urbanism and landscape are inseparable’

angath view towards open air theatre and entrance past one of huge pots in garden.
Sangath, view towards open-air theatre and entrance past one of huge pots in
garden.
In effect, Doshi, like Kahn, tended to think of public educational institutions as miniature
cities, an old theme in university planning in both Eastern and Western architectural traditions.
The Indian Institute of Management (1977-83) in Bengaluru embodies these intentions in a
design that weaves together covered streets and squares, classrooms and student residences
in an overlapping system of structural supports in concrete, with screens, pergolas, stone walls,
balconies and fronds of greenery. Doshi referred to IIM Bengaluru as a ‘bazaar for the
exchange of ideas’. He was considering simultaneously Western contemporary models, such as
the lattices of the Free University in Berlin by Josic, Candilis and Woods, and traditional Indian
city, palace and temple complexes with their galleries, platforms, screens and courts. Here the
key themes were: labyrinthine networks of covered streets, overlapping spaces fusing into one
another, shading layers and cooling bodies of water. 

In effect, Doshi was involved in a sort of excavation of Indian traditions. Nation-building relies
upon the construction of myths of ‘identity’ and in the newly independent democratic and
secular republic of India, with its overlaid Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim and other pasts, there was
no question of settling on one period or one religion as a supposed repository of ‘Indianness’. On
the contrary, architects of Doshi’s generation such as Charles Correa, Raj Rewal and Anant
Raje sought out ‘substructures’ in the rich heritage of past Indian architecture, transforming
these through a modern abstraction into forms and spaces adjusted to the climate, to local
traditions and to changing technical and social realities. They admired the force of Le
Corbusier’s forms but rejected his free-standing objects in favour of spatial layers and
interlocking precincts that were better suited to the searing hot climate and to the social
complexity of Indian life. These were the years when obligatory pilgrimages were made to the
desert city of Jaisalmer with its networks of streets, squares, and havelis with
interpenetrating terraces and courts; to Fatehpur Sikri (16th century) with its syncopated
columns, overlapping spaces, focal points and slipped axes; to Indian villages with their
recurrent types, transitional spaces and robust forms. While Correa made much of ‘open to sky
space’, Rewal was drawn to Rajput forts with interlocking sections and courts, and Raje was
obsessed with palace/fortress complexes such as Mandu in the Deccan (but always with a
glance westwards to Hadrian’s Villa and Roman ruins). Each architect established his own
pedigree and Doshi in particular was deeply attracted to southern Hindu temple complexes such
as Madurai and Tiruchirappalli, with their labyrinthine galleries and walkways, and their
indirect approach to the spiritual centre.
Sangath section jpg
Sangath, lateral section, west-east, through vaulted studio, skylight and lower
meeting room
 plates from Percy Brown Indian Architecture 1940 illustrating origins of vaulted
structures in timber huts and rock cut chambers
Plates from Percy Brown, Indian Architecture (1940) illustrating origins of vaulted
structures in timber huts and rock-cut chambers; and Buddhist cavernous chaitya
halls, second century BCE– second century CE
Doshi referred to this search for values in tradition as a form of metaphysical quest in which
he was guided by intuition and meditation as well as analysis. At the end of the ’70s he
acquired a strip of land on the western fringes of Ahmedabad and designed himself and his
associates a new studio set in a shaded garden. He called this place ‘Sangath’, which translates
roughly as ‘working together through participation’. More than just an architectural atelier,
Doshi thought of Sangath as a place for the exchange of ideas, a sort of latter-day monastery
for teaching, even as an emblem of his own philosophy. It was Le Corbusier who suggested that
a profound work would be ‘full of hidden implications’. Sangath is surely an example of this, as
it draws together both Doshi’s international inspirations and the results of his search for
fundamentals in several areas of Indian tradition.

‘Doshi here treats the visitor to a well-orchestrated promenade architecturale:

lesson number one in Le Corbusier’s atelier’
Sangath is approached off Thaltej Road, with the precinct entered via a gate and a forecourt
for parking. The pedestrian path departs to the left between giant Gujarati pots and scraped
concrete walls surmounted by turf mounds. One is guided on a diagonal past ponds with low
curved rims and it is from this vantage point that the general view of the building opens up.
Sangath is buried half underground and the roofs are formed by vaults coated in broken
fragments of white porcelain, which reflect the light and the heat while also sluicing off the
rain and excluding the dust storms in the hot season. In Ahmedabad the temperature can rise
to 45°C and the downpours from the monsoons can be violent. In the foreground are the angled
and flat steps of an outdoor theatre which is used for lectures and discussions, even for night-
time concerts. The walls of Sangath continue the theme of concrete scraped by hand, a detail
recalling mud architecture. The route now shifts to the right towards the entrance near the
back of the building, approached past a screen down some steps. In effect, Doshi here treats
the visitor to a well-orchestrated promenade architecturale: lesson number one in Le
Corbusier’s atelier, and of course the ‘master’ himself often threaded routes around the back
of buildings.

Sangath plan of entire garden precinct showing integration of building and

landscaping
Sangath plan of entire garden precident showing integration of building and
landscaping
 Frank Lloyd Wright studio and architectural fellowship Taliesin West Arizona
Plan of Frank Lloyd Wright’s studio and architectural fellowship in Taliesin, West
Arizona
The interior of Sangath resembles a warren of rooms, stairs and a corridor. This leads back in
the direction of the main studio space under the curved vault seen from the gate at the
entrance. Natural light is filtered in under the vaults and from several skylights and small
windows. The work tables are laid out in this longitudinal space and it is then that one realises
that Doshi is perhaps recalling the dusty monastic corridor of Le Corbusier’s atelier at 35 rue
de Sèvres. In fact, as one strolls about the leafy precinct of the garden several other
‘memories’ float to the surface. One of these surely is Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin West
(1937) in Arizona, which Doshi visited in 1958, with its diagonal geometry, platforms, water
tank, tent roofs and half-sunken rooms. In addition Wright introduced pots and jars as ways of
recalling simultaneously the American Indian past and the Oriental theme of ‘the void’. Alvar
Aalto’s studio in the suburbs of Helsinki also comes to mind, with its small outdoor theatre of
grassy steps embraced by the curves and rectangles of the building. As for the theme of
vaults, water channels and greenery one is back to Le Corbusier, not just the Sarabhai House in
Ahmedabad, but also the unbuilt project for an Agriculturist’s Estate at Cherchell, North
Africa (1942) which Le Corbusier described as achieving ‘a harmony between countryside,
climate and tradition’.

‘His aim once again was to treat an institutional building as a species of social
landscape’
Kahn was influenced by the same source in his vaulted Kimbell Museum at Fort Worth, but Doshi
deliberately avoided symmetry and fragmented the geometry to create ambiguous thresholds
linked to the landscape. This corresponded to his reading of Indian temple architecture where
‘there is a series of layers … pauses, transitional spaces’. Doshi was certainly interested in mud
architecture when he was designing Sangath and visited the Harania Museum in Egypt by Wissa
Wassef. In constructing the vaults of Sangath insulating fuses were used in imitation of a local
construction tradition using clay pots telescoped together. So in its ideas and its very fabric,
Sangath was on a knife-edge between rural and industrial worlds. Surely too Doshi addressed
the notion of origins in both the huge storage jars and the vaults. The elongated vaulted studio
calls to mind the ancient Buddhist type known as the chaitya hall, found at Ajanta and Karla
for example. These rock-cut temples in turn imitated wooden huts: the old theme then of the
‘primitive hut’ but recast in Indian terms.
The Gandhi Labour Institute (1980-84) is not far from Sangath but is on a much larger scale.
Here Doshi reverted to a similar solution of ceramic-clad vaults resting on solid brick and
concrete bases although this time the walls are coated in washed granite pebble dash, bluish
purple in colour. His aim once again was to treat an institutional building as a species of social
landscape incorporating courts, steps, water bodies, an outdoor theatre and protective vaults.

Doshi Indian Institute of Management 1977 85

Doshi, Indian Institute of Management, 1977-85, effects of light and shade
produced by pergola over interior street
Doshi low cost housing IFFCO Kalol Gujarat 1970 73
Source: WJR Curtis 1986
Doshi, low-cost housing, IFFCO, Kalol, Gujarat, 1970-73
Doshi Gandhi Labour Institute Ahmedabad 1980 84 construction of vault
Source: WJR Curtis 1984
Doshi, Gandhi Labour Institute, Ahmedabad, 1980-84, construction of vault
The entrance was placed at an upper level approached over shallow steps and the section of the
building and the surrounding ground form bears an uncanny resemblance to the section of the
mosque, tomb and tank complex of Sarkhej (15th century) some miles to the west of
Ahmedabad. Gujarat is also a region of remarkable stepped wells, truly celebrations of water
using the architectural means of pillared halls, steps, as well as light, shade and the passage of
cool air. Doshi’s aim of re-linking modern man with the rhythms of nature extends a Modernist
utopia while returning to ancient wisdom. His unbuilt urban plan for Vidhayanagar (New Jaipur,
1984-88) was a deliberate fusion of ideas drawn from Le Corbusier’s ‘green city’ principles in
Chandigarh, and the courtyards and cosmic observatories of 18th-century Jaipur, itself a
revival of ancient Hindu planning lore. So the concept of the mandala was crossbred with a
symbolic urbanism of modern sustainability.

‘A vital modern tradition is formed from buildings that crystallise a social

condition and express a cogent content in evocative spaces and forms’

One returns to the theme outlined at the beginning: that a vital modern tradition is formed
from buildings that crystallise a social condition and express a cogent content in evocative
spaces and forms. Sangath is such a work, sensually rich and deep in meaning. When I first
visited this enclave in 1983 it was on the western edge of Ahmedabad and there was open
countryside opposite. In a field next to the precinct, nomads from the Rann of Kutch used to
come and set up a temporary camp under the shelter of a tree. In 1987 when I was writing the
monograph Balkrishna Doshi: An Architecture for India, I stayed in the little apartment at the
rear of the building and one of my strongest memories is of the sudden arrival one night of
the monsoon, with rain sluicing off the porcelain vaults into gutters, channels and pools.
Occasionally a flash of lightning revealed the silhouettes of a camel train passing in front of
the building.
 Balkrishna Doshis colourful expression of his Sangath studio Ahmedabad
Balkrishna Doshi’s colourful expression of his Sangath studio, Ahmedabad: a place
for the exchange of ideas
Now this contact with the rural base has gone and Sangath is surrounded by shopping centres,
tall apartment buildings and the constant din of traffic. The old Ahmedabad of the early
Independence years with its philanthropic mill owners, its textile mills, its public civic culture
and its organised labour, has been replaced by the smash and grab of developers, the impact of
giant chemical firms and international money: the so-called Gujarati model of development
with its attendant ills of a fractured proletariat and religious identity politics.
It is a sobering reminder that architecture of authenticity requires the right social conditions,
cultural values and architectural intentions if it is to come into being.