Archi.ru:
You wrote on your Facebook page that the winning project for the new concept of the Great Circus was, in your opinion, a fake. Do you still think it was a fake?
Grigory Revzin:
No, I changed my mind. But the situation is highly unusual and, in that sense, incredibly intriguing.
Intriguing in what sense, exactly?
The project isn’t a fake, but it’s not really a project either. There was some kind of competition where the materials presented to us were unclear. And yet, something won. A single image leaked from the materials. There’s no guarantee that it was the best, the most important, or the most representative – it’s not clear at all. I don’t think we can consider it to be the actual result of the competition.
Why not?
If this is the case, then it’s a scandal. The competition implied a monetary prize. Essentially, it means that for five million rubles, an image was generated by artificial intelligence – an image that, in my view, would cost about 300 dollars on the market. No plans, no section views, no information that would allow us to treat it as an architectural project. And then there are other troubling aspects: the unclear list of participants, the unclear jury line-up, the competition’s conditions, and, finally, the unclear status of the winning project. The only official body that has confirmed the project’s victory is the mayor’s press office. That’s not how things work. We don’t even know whether the project has been approved or not, whether it’s a final design or just a preliminary concept, whether it will actually be built or not. We have established practices for competitions. And nothing like this has ever happened before. And this is what makes this whole story so intriguing.
Reconstruction project of the Great Moscow State Circus building on Vernadsky Avenue, 01.2025
Copyright: пресс-служба Мэра и Правительства Москвы
There are three important aspects here. The first one is mentioned in your article, and I agree with you. This could be a foreign project that is not published under a recognizable name due to the threat of sanctions imposed on Russia. I’ve encountered such situations before: Western architects we collaborated with at Strelka KB are currently unwilling to work on projects for Russia under their own names. There have been attempts to engage them, but this has to be done through branches in China, Singapore, Dubai, or elsewhere – anonymously, under the name of “some firm”. I wouldn’t say this practice has been particularly successful because one intermediary firm pays another intermediary firm, and everyone works accordingly. There are too many intermediaries – lawyers and financiers who can’t tell a real architectural project from an AI-generated image. The result is an unprofessional product making its way to the top.
The second, more interesting question is: why do clients even resort to competition-based approaches? For us at Strelka, this used to be a way of integrating Moscow into the global context – having Western star architects build here. Now, there’s no need to integrate into the global context; in fact, they require quite the opposite now. So why go through Singapore to obtain some vague image and then present it to the world?
I think this is an important point. I don’t know anyone in the professional community who would look at this circus project and say, “Great! Excellent work!”
People with very different perspectives consider it an unprofessional product. Not exactly “bad”, just unprofessional.
It’s beneath any kind of critique – discussing it in architectural terms is pointless. Just look at that 17-meter-tall knob hanging atop the circus tent-like structure.
I read your post – you believe that Sobyanin is the client and that this reflects his taste. I disagree. I don’t think Sobyanin has imposed any architectural preferences over the past ten years, so why would he suddenly change in his 15th year in office?
Really? Do you still think Sobyanin has no architectural preferences?
I still think he doesn’t. I believe this is more likely something coming from within the circus community. But there’s a more important issue here. The Zapashny brothers can’t be expected to distinguish good architects from bad ones – nor should they. Just as architects don’t know how to handle tigers. It was the responsibility of the Moscow government to provide this expertise, since the competition was organized by the Genplan Institute of Moscow.
But the fact that the outcome is a product that doesn’t meet professional standards indicates that the Moscow government has lost its connection with architects. All these councils, commissions, meetings, and informal networks – they no longer function. If architects had any influence on this process, such a result could never have been made public. The result could have been a disappointing one, but it would still meet some certain standards and tick some certain boxes. Moscow has about 50 well-known architects – practicing professionals with studios, reputations, and teaching experience at MARCHI. Not one of them would have allowed this to go through. This means that the mayor’s office no longer has ties with them.
Reconstruction project of the Great Moscow State Circus building on Vernadsky Avenue, 01.2025
Copyright: пресс-служба Мэра и Правительства Москвы
It’s a fascinating situation. Look at what’s happening: all the traditional functions of an architectural competition are disappearing. There’s no need to attract Western stars. There’s no PR benefit – after all, we don’t know the participants or the jury, so what is there to promote? But one function remains – the simplest one: picking something out and saying “this is the thing!”
This is a rapid collapse of architectural practice as a structured profession.
Even compared to Yuri Luzhkov. It’s clear how a project like this would have been handled under Luzhkov. There was an infrastructure of “insider” architects, a bureaucratic system in which they would have divided the work among themselves. From our perspective, it might have been terrible in terms of taste, but it wouldn’t have been unprofessional. Now, that structure is gone. As far as I understand, Moscow’s chief architect, Sergey Kuznetsov, was never given the opportunity to build such a system. He’s entirely out of the process. If he had been involved in any meaningful way, a project like this would never have come to light. Clearly, nothing was coordinated with him. Just look at how he shared the announcement – no mention of the competition, no mention of the city planning council’s review, no discussion of architecture. Just: A new circus will be built. Watch it on the mayor’s channel. No, he was out of this.
We no longer have an institutional environment for developing the city’s most important architectural projects.
Something that used to connect the mayor’s office, developers, official architects, opposition architects, and the architectural community – where they would all hash things out together, and in the end, some kind of project would emerge. That’s completely gone now. This is the key outcome of the competition. We can acknowledge it – and, well, just shrug our shoulders.
Sounds like some kind of post-apocalypse.
Why apocalypse? It’s just about simplification. They’ve shut us all down.
Still, we do have a list of competition participants, don’t we?
Yes, but we know them only as company names, which, by your own logic, are likely just fronts for Western firms. Take Apex, for example – the firm that was retroactively named the winner (it wasn’t even mentioned in the original press release). Apex specializes in overseeing foreign projects. Back in the day, Kuznetsov had this dream: to have a strong, professional bureau, like Ove Arup, that would develop the designs of a talented individual architect. But now, when the head of this bureau is presented as the project’s author, it’s done in a kind of “Photoshop” way. His picture is pasted next to the building, yet he says nothing about the project, doesn’t comment on it, and isn’t officially credited as the author anywhere. Have you ever seen an “author” like that anywhere?
There’s a second competition, for the Durov Corner project, and it was run exactly the same way, just as bizarre.
Well, that’s how they’re all going to be from now on.
Russian architects have been shut out.
They have no reputation at all anymore – they/ve become a bunch of nobodies. The reasons for this are another matter. You and I, we both contributed to it, at least I did – I was the one bringing all those Western architects here. I should have thought more about what I was doing. But architects themselves played a role in destroying their own reputation, too. And now the profession as a whole has been discredited. Russian architects have no authority, clients are looking for foreign ones, and foreign architects fear sanctions. Remember that Zodchestvo event where Nikolai Shumakov, president of the Union of Architects of Russia, gave his grand speech? He said a new era was dawning – that with the country closed to Western architects, we were about to see an unprecedented flourishing of Russian architecture. So far, that’s not happening.
It’s not a flourishing of Russian architecture, but some creepy theater of foreign shadows.
Well… Looking at the Kazanysh forum right now, we can see that the search for foreign architects has simply shifted from the West to the East. There are representatives from 25 BRICS countries.
I’ve seen the Kazanysh program, and it’s great that this is happening. But in my view, there’s a problem. Take China, for example – its design culture doesn’t emphasize individual names. If you ask who designed a project, the answer will be: “The Communist Party of China”. Or at best, they’ll name a firm, but not individuals. Meanwhile, in places like Argentina or Brazil, it’s the complete opposite – there, it’s all about the maestro – but it’s unclear if they are actually capable of designing something decent. A building is an expensive thing; it’s not easy to entrust it to some caballero with no firm behind him to vouch for his reputation.
That’s why – speaking from my own experience – finding an architect, or rather a contractor, that you can confidently recommend to a client, vouching for their quality, is difficult in Asian markets. The job of a consultant is to say: “These, these, and these people will deliver – not necessarily what you’ll love, that’s impossible to predict – but I can guarantee their level of professional competence”. Today, that’s hard to say. This is a fundamental aspect of working with China: just like with a microchip made there, you can’t vouch for its quality – it might be excellent, or it might be complete junk. The same goes for architecture.
Yes, but since you wrote about China’s “no-name” architecture, things have changed. First, they now have architects with recognized names. Second, they passed a law banning international architects from working there.
I’m not saying anything bad about Chinese architecture, and certainly don’t mean to blame it for that design we’re discussing. Of course, China has become much more sophisticated since I wrote my review of the Shanghai Expo – they even have a Pritzker winner now. But we’re not dealing with those top-league architects. We’re the ones under sanctions, the ones who have to squeeze through the gray zone. And the thing about gray zones is – they don’t become civilized. When they do, they simply disappear.
Why are multiple modernist demolitions happening at once – both the CMEA building and the circus? Do you see any “conspiracy” in this?
It’s definitely significant, even though it’s probably just a coincidence. Someone from the circus world may have asked the mayor’s press office to publish that image, which drew attention. Then, riding that wave, Yefimov announced that the CMEA building would be demolished too. Meanwhile, the House of Cinema was also taken down. And so, suddenly, it became an event. I don’t think there was a mastermind orchestrating a public attack on modernism. Probably not. But that’s exactly what happened.
And here’s the thing: the trick worked. Everyone is talking about architecture again.
The last time architecture was at the center of attention was in 2016 with the My Street program – though even then, it was not so much about architecture as about urbanism. The progressive crowd was stirred up, the conservative crowd was activated. And that program is still ongoing – somebody is always doing some kind of improvement project, the Moscow construction department’s news feed is full of updates. But no one really pays attention to them. And then – boom – an explosion of interest. In my little information bubble, about three thousand people are obsessed with this news. That’s a lot.
Here’s what’s changed: these are powerful, explicitly architectural moves. Massive structures that capture the imagination, reshaping key parts of the city – true architectural events. This is completely different from the concerns of environmental urbanism. And it aligns with what’s happening in the rest of the world, even though we’re currently cut off from it.
Has the world fallen in love with WOW-architecture again?
Yes, I think so. The backlash against grand architectural statements is over. All the big players are now building their own Great Pyramid of Giza – super-objects designed to impress. Of course, the Arabs are the undisputed champions of this, but the French Olympics are showcasing the same trend.
The projects being presented to us are attempts at making a bold architectural statement. But since we’re under sanctions, we have to do it quietly. So we end up with a “bold statement made on the sly”. That’s why it leaves such a “staggering” impression.
And a bold statement executed provincially looks particularly ridiculous.
I think the problem lies elsewhere. Provincial architecture can still be professional. This architecture isn’t. Once Apex starts working on it and makes it professional, then we can talk about whether it’s provincial. But right now, we need a different term.
Alright – do you think there’s any way to bring Russian architects into this process?
I don’t know. They’ve lost their influence. You can sympathize with them, maybe even be outraged on their behalf. But influence doesn’t work that way. Remember the Gazprom Tower competition? The St. Petersburg Union of Architects was completely ignored. A provincial organization, let’s be honest. However, what they did was they stirred up public outcry, and that wave ultimately sank the skyscraper. Gazprom realized they’d made a mistake – ignoring them ended up being too costly. That is influence. But I don’t see any such possibilities for architects in Moscow today. Even if I had the opportunity, I wouldn’t know how to explain to Sergey Sobyanin what exactly he did wrong. He simply wouldn’t believe that he needs to consider the professional community in any form – whether it’s the Union of Architects, the Academy of Architecture, MARCHI... forgive me if I’m forgetting anyone.
And what do you think of the chances of a petition on the Russian Public Initiative platform?
You know, my personal stance on demolitions and collective action is characterized by a distinct lack of clarity.
First of all, I’m not sure a petition will gather 100,000 signatures. It’s impossible to present this as a public movement like we saw with the Gazprom Tower, in my opinion. Secondly, I’m not a fan of 1970s architecture, not in the least I am. I respect those who appreciate it, even love them – my friend Nikolai Malinin, for example. But I love them, while I can’t stand the architecture itself. In that sense, I really don’t understand why I personally should be fighting for its preservation.
That doesn’t mean I’m calling for its demolition. I won’t fight for it, but I won’t fight against it either. I think it would be more appropriate to operate within the framework of the law, even if it’s imperfect. These buildings aren’t monuments, and they have owners who have the right to demolish them with the approval of the city authorities. The law hasn’t been broken. So what’s the big deal? If there’s significant public interest, and a considerable number of people who like the building – like what happened with the Central House of Artists (CDHA) – then, of course, it should be preserved. The outcome of this movement should be the building receiving the status of a monument. But I don’t see this movement happening. There’s not 100,000 people – only 3,000, and half of them aren’t even in the country.
I’m generally very skeptical about collective actions.
For them to attract attention from the authorities – at least 100, not just 3,000 concerned people – it requires organization and a political component. People weren’t fighting against the tower; they were fighting against the power of Gazprom in the city. And the political meaning of architecture is very random, to the point of absurdity.
Now, here’s the paradoxical situation: t5he buildings from Brezhnev-era modernism are defended by very respectable people, even the best people, with Nikolai Malinin leading a wide mass of hipsters. Meanwhile, those demolishing them are big bureaucrats and businessmen, in other words, in our context, patriots and statesmen. It could have been the other way around.
Right now, the Brezhnev era is an ideal. It’s the time of nuclear parity, the time when Brezhnev and Ford divided the world in half. The Helsinki Final Act is our goal, and we’re fighting for equality in relations with the United States.
Well, there’s a doubt here. The people who want to return to a symbolic USSR associate it more with the Stalin high-rises than with modernist architecture. Moreover, this substitution happened after the war: the Soviet government was building an empire while borrowing the stylistics of modernist, democratic architecture. Hence the ambiguity…
Your point is essentially that Leonid Ilyich was not Joseph Vissarionovich – that there was some kind of flaw in him, that he was weaker. But that’s incorrect because the empire that stretched across half of Europe and deep into Asia, all the way to Mongolia – that was Brezhnev. It was bigger than under Alexander III. Our five-story buildings stand from Hanoi to Budapest. I don’t love the Soviet empire, but under Stalin, it was kinda nervous, prone to excesses, whereas its “noble simplicity and serene grandeur”, as Winckelmann put it – that was Brezhnev, not Stalin.
And this is not just rhetoric.
They’re demolishing the CMEA building! CMEA was the center and axis of that great empire.
A skyscraper from which you could see Prague, Budapest, Warsaw – and wherever else our glorious peaceful tanks reached. It was designed that way: a book opening toward the West, mosaics of space, peaceful nuclear energy entering every home. This was the triumph of peace and socialism – the 1970s, the country’s pride. Soviet circus! Soviet ballet! Social modernism is the architectural equivalent of Sviridov’s Time, Forward! – imagine the “Vremya” news program rolling through all these socialist modernist buildings, one after another, a pure victory of progress and socialism. And now you’re tearing it down to build housing for billionaires. It’s like deciding to demolish the Mausoleum. Or the Kremlin. They’ve completely lost it!
Logically, it should be the imperial heavyweights defending the CMEA while the fluttering hipsters demand the demolition of this apotheosis of empire. But instead, it’s the opposite. This is some kind of illustration of the thesis that the “good Russians” secretly cherish the conquest of nations.
In short, the political basis for collective action seems absurd to me, and I don’t want to participate in this madness. I won’t sign anything.
As someone who doesn’t love modernist architecture, which buildings would you preserve and why?
Well, that’s a very personal question. I’m not ready to defend any of them. Whenever I encounter this architecture – whether in Paris, London, or Venice – I flinch and think: what kind of idiot put this here? Ridiculous! It’s paradoxical because this architecture was created by my father’s generation – people born in the 1920s and 1930s. I knew them, spoke with them, sometimes admired and even loved them. Yet I don’t “feel” them. The values embodied in these buildings don’t resonate with me intuitively. Their rhythm, their music – it doesn’t echo within me, so to speak. A bear stepped on my ear in this regard. I find it much easier to understand a Stalinist building – it speaks to me. But these? No, they don’t! That’s why I can’t rely on my personal taste when it comes to deciding whether to preserve or demolish them.
Where the law requires preservation, there’s no debate. Where it doesn’t, I’d establish a voting procedure among professionals – some kind of ranking system. Let’s at least register everyone with specialized education – architects, art historians, artists. Whoever wants to vote can do so: should we preserve this building or not? That would at least provide some sense of its public value. As for myself, I’d stay out of the process. But if I had no choice, I’d follow an ecological logic – because demolition is inherently anti-ecological.
There’s a European approach to renovating 1970s buildings – historicizing them. We don’t need to look far for an example – Koolhaas showed us how with Garage. Take the Vremena Goda café in Gorky Park and preserve it for a museum function. And how do you preserve it? You treat a Soviet-era mosaic like a 12th-century Byzantine imperial mosaic – restore it with the same reverence. Its value instantly increases, if only because the restoration itself costs ten times more than creating a new one. And apply this principle to every element. Put the worst painting in a good frame, and it’ll look much better. So, why not reconstruct all these buildings in a way that allows us to enjoy the advantages of modern office and entertainment spaces while recognizing that the building has stood for 50 years? As for the CMEA skyscraper – I don’t know of any precedent for historicizing a high-rise. Its silhouette is its defining feature, and silhouettes aren’t easy to historicize. But I think that’s an interesting creative challenge.
Historicization aligns with European values: tolerance, multiple meanings, multiple voices, the absence of a single will… Though perhaps even this paradigm is fading. As people like to say nowadays, Trump has already started working on that. Either way, there’s another approach – the Chinese one. Two-thirds of Shanghai was demolished in the process of reconstruction. The Russian quarter, the French quarter, the entire Shanghai of Alexander Vertinsky – all wiped out. And we, too, have chosen our path. No more Koolhaas-style complexity for us. We don’t need that anymore. No nuances, no ambiguity – we need a simple, strong gesture. Willpower. Like they do in China.
Part of this is due to sheer economic reasons. In the last 20 years, Europe’s economy has tripled, while China’s has grown twentyfold. When working with a client like Sergey Sobyanin, it’s hard to argue against that.
So, to summarize: WOW-architecture is back, the world is shifting East, everything is doomed.
Well, no, not quite. You see, building a skyscraper is hard. Constructing a circus on the level of Dubai is hard. These endeavors demand a high level of professional culture. It may be amoral, it may not align with today’s European values of tolerance and democracy – but it cannot be ignorant or uneducated.
So, no, not everything is lost. If I had the chance to speak with Sergey Sobyanin, I’d say: we need to bring professional expertise back into the creation of super-projects.
Ask that Sergey Kuznetsov of yours – he actually knows how to run competitions, how to build. He’s good at it, really good.
Not everything is lost. Within this overwhelming trend – which is dreadful for me, because at sixty, I can’t suddenly become fascinated with simple, masculine gestures (as in, “let’s put up a tower and let it stand”) – I just don’t relate to that. But others still have something worth fighting for. At the very least, for professional culture.
