Afflicted by Oblivion

The Conversion of Palazzo Sormani into the Central Municipal Library in Postwar Milan Arrigo Arrighetti’s Project as a Case in Point

The essay from the archive examines the manifold forms assumed by oblivion through the history of Milan’s Sormani Library and an occasional text authored by its designer, Arrigo Arrighetti, a “minor” architect, on the inauguration of the renovated building. Discovered in a little-known illustrated guide, the text brings to light the project report that is absent from the file documenting the intervention in the Arrighetti Archive of the Biblioteca Trivulziana, which preserves drawings and early reflections on the thesis project that would ultimately materialize as a built work, and subsequently enter the heritage of a modernity increasingly marked by oblivion. This condition is likewise reflected in the documentary lacunae found within the Historical Archive of the Politecnico di Milano and the Cittadella degli Archivi.

Erasure and replacement, “minor” architectures, and the difficulties encountered by institutions entrusted with the preservation and systematization of their own holdings constitute the three principal themes brought into focus by this reflection, through a case that is exemplary, yet by no means isolated. The story has been brought back to light thanks to the openness and sustained commitment of the archivists and librarians involved, who, in different capacities, contributed to its reconstruction through an evidentiary paradigm, bringing together dispersed traces and thereby delineating the contours of a history still profoundly marked by gaps and absences¹.

Erasure, often engendered by a tragic event – whether natural or man-made, singular or perpetuated over time—may, paradoxically, become an occasion for renewal and experimentation. What appears as a “painful mutilation” may ultimately give rise to a “prodigious rebirth,” to borrow the words of Giovanni Bellini, Deputy Director of the Civic Library of Milan from 1924 – then still housed in the Sforza Castle² – and, from 1945 to 1960, Director of the newly established Central Municipal Library, following its relocation to its new home at Palazzo Sormani. This was to become a home open to the city, a place whose history is inscribed, at a glance, in the very form through which it has been handed down to us.

Bellini is a central figure in the redefinition of the library as an architectural and civic institution – a “modern library for a modern city”³ – together with its “interpreter”, a very young architect, Arrigo Arrighetti. Arrighetti devoted himself to public service without ever pursuing authorship, working collaboratively and bringing to the project the quiet authority of his craft. He played his part throughout his life without imposing a personal signature, remaining, as it were, behind the scenes of the great diorama of the Municipality of Milan.

Against this backdrop, the specific case of the conversion of Palazzo Sormani into a Municipal Library in post-war Milan provides the author with an opportunity to articulate, and at the same time to denounce, a condition shared by numerous works of architecture – and, alongside them, by the architects, often regarded as “minor”, who conceived them. Their value resides in the appropriateness with which they respond to their purpose, and in their ability to unfold that purpose through ambitious solutions, despite the limited means that so often characterize the policies and practices of Municipal Technical Offices⁴.

 Architectures devoted to the life of their cities are increasingly vulnerable to a peculiar affliction: the relentless passage of time gradually consigns them to oblivion, depriving them of the care and protection they require. This gradual process ultimately manifests itself as inaccessibility, neglect, and forgetfulness – and, in the broadest sense, as loss.

To trace the story of the project for “the Sormani,” as Milanese people affectionately call it, inevitably takes us back to the night of 7-8 August 1943, when Milan endured the first in a series of Allied air raids on the heart of the historic city, marking a decisive turning point in the history of the Palazzo⁵.

Anamnesis and diagnosis are already intertwined in the words of Arrigo Arrighetti, dated June 1947, brought back to light after years of oblivion in a small exhibition installed along the route that leads from the entrance hall to the first floor of the “Comunale,” commemorating the Library’s first seventy years at Palazzo Sormani. These words return once more, reworked, in this brief essay occasioned by the project – transcribed below – which Arrighetti composed and signed as the concluding contribution to the publication prepared by the Municipality of Milan⁵ for the inauguration of the Library on 10 March 1956.

It is a technical report of the works carried out, preceded by notes on the existing conditions. The text is accompanied by concise drawings and simple axonometric projections which, in their sequence, make both the state of affairs and an initial line of thought immediately legible – a line of thought that already contained, in embryo, its own remedy: a proposal for the “Project for the adaptation of the building as the seat of the Civic Library,” at no. 6 Corso di Porta Vittoria.

THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE NEW PART

 And in terms of construction, this area hasn't seen any major changes compared to the norm for today's buildings, except for the façade, which will be discussed later. The only difference is the truly considerable weight (due to the books) that the structures are required to support. Very sturdy foundations and floors with very high unit loads had to be designed, without, however, deviating from the usual patterns of reinforced concrete construction. The connection areas between the new structure and the existing one, however, were somewhat delicate. Special measures were used here to avoid differences in settlement in the various areas of the structure, measures used especially in the foundations of the existing section. These were strengthened or redone.

The Via Guastalla facade, given its unique characteristics, was not built piece by piece off-site. Construction proceeded as follows: the various structural pieces were prepared and cured, planning the individual parts, including the necessary joints and connections, and the vertical elements were assembled from floor to floor, followed by the horizontal elements. Everything was then gradually locked and sealed. Construction was accomplished very quickly and with a certain simplicity. Once the structure was finished and loaded, the effectiveness of the system was demonstrated, as despite the heavy load (Open brackets, approximately 25 tons, Close brackets), not the slightest settlement occurred at the base of each vertical element. The sequence of drawings below represents the various phases required for the construction of this part of the building.

Another advantage obtained with this type of structure was the ease of assembly of the numerous window frames.

Wooden strips were embedded in the prefabricated prices, onto which the window frames were applied with great ease.

Here, finally, is the construction drawing that concerns this particular detail.

OVERALL RESULT OF THE WORK

It is possible, and indeed worthwhile, to draw a sort of balance from the work done, comparing the results achieved with the labor expended. From a construction standpoint, two significant results have undoubtedly been achieved: the first is the preservation of the monument, a preservation that initially (even according to the experts consulted) seemed impossible given the building's serious structural instability; the second is the enjoyment of a building whose configuration is far from any rational possibility of accommodating a modern facility. In this regard, it is worth considering: public bodies, in general, have among their assets buildings of a historic or monumental nature that represent a dead weight because they are used for purposes unsuitable for their configuration: palaces built to house patrician residences are somehow adapted to become museums, offices, and so on. Of all the uses to which an ancient building could aspire, the least suitable is undoubtedly that of a library. This facility has a precisely defined distribution plan, from which deviations cannot be made without compromising its functionality.

Undoubtedly, an accurate library must be built from scratch.

Looking at the results of the work described so far, it's still unclear whether the new library will meet the needs set forth in the project. Undoubtedly, the new building, spacious, attractive, and complete in terms of services and facilities, will likely experience some distribution gaps after a certain number of months of operation. These gaps, however, are inherent in the project and could not be eliminated by the compromise that, as mentioned above, arises from the desire to accommodate a specific structure in a pre-existing building.

Arrigo Arrighetti

The resolution of the typological problem, emphasized in the final passages of this presentation to the city, constitutes the horizon towards which the cultural and scholarly project have driven the architectural interpretation of the transformation of the Civic Library into the Municipal Central Library, and its relocation from the Castello to the Palazzo. This is a profoundly disciplinary problem, one that Arrighetti often resolves from outside the discipline itself. It is a consistent way of working that characterized his social and civic service within public offices: never a minimal form of service, but one that, from his very first professional experience, looked to the best examples and drew upon the knowledge of experts, whatever the subject at hand, without ever abandoning the dimension of research⁷. 

It is precisely within the sphere of research and academia that the project originated. In October 1947, Arrigo Arrighetti was to graduate with a thesis that addressed precisely the conversion of a patrician palace into a library – a development that does not have the character of a coincidence but, on the contrary, forms part of a precise cultural programme for the city of Milan, one that sought active collaboration between the Municipality and the University. Yet no traces of this programme remain either at the Cittadella degli Archivi of the Municipality of Milan or in the Historical Archive of the Politecnico. Only a few sketches and working drawings survive in his private archive: fragments nevertheless orphaned of any technical report, preserved in a file patiently assembled by the architect himself, who entirely lined the exterior of the folder with a technical map of the city of Milan.

Here, just a few metres from the Palazzo, it is possible to identify another yard, contemporary and marked by similar circumstances, though certainly better known. It involved the restoration and conversion of the transepts of Filarete’s Ospedale Maggiore into the seat of the University of Milan, carried out by a group of Politecnico professors led by Ambrogio Annoni, together with Liliana Grassi and, among others, Piero Portaluppi.

At Sormani, the old – the ancient – restored according to the methods of the time, through a form of structural restoration, as Arrighetti recounts both in words and through photographic documentation of the foundations, vaults, and façades – was intended to accommodate the offices, the rooms for book processing, and a number of spaces for study and meetings. The new – rebuilt using the materials and construction systems, and adopting the architectural expression characteristic of the period in which it was produced – was intended for the institution itself, understood as an alchemical machine: a complex interplay of storage rooms, consultation rooms, catalogue rooms, exhibition spaces, freight lifts, book lifts, elevators, and laboratories.

Quick blue-ink drawings capture the choices and revisions concerning the façade on Via Guastalla, the only one facing the city. Two-dimensional diagrams and three-dimensional views, elevations and perspective glimpses depict a composition made up of deep grids and continuous planes. Shadows of varying lengths, in both the working drawings and the sketches, narrate what takes place within, through the alternation of infilled panels, openings, and uninterrupted wall surfaces. A drawing that breaks free from tradition and engages with the pre-existing portion of the Palazzo without hesitation, reaffirming its principal horizontal lines through the string courses and maximum heights, which are taken up again to terminate the new wing in the book tower. An uncommon approach, noted more than once in the press of the time, which described that “chequerboard array of columbaria” as a “considerable visual shock” for the passer-by. A sensation that may still be felt today by those walking along the pavement that follows the narrow perspective.

Behind the broad, continuous blind wall on Via Guastalla, by contrast, was – and still is – the spacious reading room, illuminated in its central area exclusively from above by a system of skylights studied down to the smallest detail. Once again, blue-ink annotations record their technical form, which had to meet the requirements of comfort and lighting necessary for a reading room suited to modernity. The individual study areas, by contrast, were arranged in the portion adjoining the only surviving wall enclosing the inner courtyard, while the ancient openings once again admitted natural light from the west.

As straightforward as the public façade is the one facing the garden belonging to the Palazzo, which, according to the drawings, was intended to become an open-air study room. In the vertical arrangement adjoining Alfieri’s eighteenth-century façade, the same 80x80 grid reappears, while the book tower is articulated by a sequence of full-height slits that seem almost like pages, slightly parted to allow light – always indirectly – to enter the stacks.

Today, seventy years after its move to the Palazzo on Corso di Porta Vittoria, and just a few months before the inauguration of the BEIC European Library in Porta Vittoria, to which the library’s activities will be transferred, we find ourselves questioning the future of the Sormani Library – both in its institutional role within the City and in relation to its headquarters, a historic building that, thanks to Arrighetti’s intervention, has itself become part of the modern heritage now in need of protection.

With this decision, we intend to preserve the strong bond of affection between the citizens of Milan and Palazzo Sormani, which in 1956 was described by its then director, Giovanni Bellini, as “the home of Milan’s scholarly citizens”. Bellini transformed it into a centre devoted to the history, memory, and preservation of Milan’s cultural heritage, and we want this vocation, which has remained intact for seventy years, to be safeguarded for the future.

In the words of Tommaso Sacchi, Councillor for Culture of the Municipality of Milan, this concern disappears. Yet such apprehension is nonetheless fuelled by the current state of neglect affecting many of these buildings, designed and built by the Municipal Technical Office, which were particularly numerous during the years of post-war reconstruction. These buildings, created to serve the city, form part of a Modern heritage that has been neglected because of a preconceived notion concerning the quality and value of the adequacy of their design.

In recent years, there have been numerous demolitions, despite repeated appeals against their being forgotten and petitions calling for the preservation of buildings constructed by the Municipality during an enlightened period – one that recognized in the tabula rasa a fertile opportunity for experimentation, drawing on research and applying it with equal quality and ambition to both the private and public spheres.