Hypocaust, St Albans

Today St Albans is just one of many towns in the dense commuter belt surrounding London. But its roots reach back to the first century AD, and the place, then called Verulamium, grew into a substantial Roman settlement. The modern St. Albans boasts both a museum dedicated to its ancient history, and a municipal park protecting important archaeology. A showpiece of Roman culture, a tiled floor mosaic with floral patterns, was excavated in the 1920s.

The mosaic, which also features an under-floor heating system (a hypocaust), was for many years housed in a simple brick structure. In 1999 the local council ran a competition for a new enclosure, which would also serve to accommodate visitors. This was won by muf, a young practice of architects and artists based in London.

Over the past ten years muf have realized a number of socially ambitious projects, often treading a fine line between art and architecture. They have created art works for gallery display, carried out feasibility studies for building projects and designed exhibition spaces, most notably for the 1996 retrospective of Sir Denys Lasdun's work at the Royal Academy. But their most powerful works so far have been interventions in the public realm that are always based on collaboration with local interest groups. In South London muf widened part of the pavement of Southwark Street to create more public space on the sunny side of the street. For the town of Stoke they commissioned street furniture, which was produced in the local ceramics factory, and in Cornwall they have worked with a marginalized group of BMX-riding youths for a skate park design. Most of their projects have been small budget, but nevertheless muf have often come up with interesting strategies to transform spaces together with those using them.

Liza Fior of muf calls the hypocaust building a 'first year project', which is meant literally, since it is the practice's first building. Did they succeed? Is it as clever and multi-layered as their other work? Seen from afar, as one enters the park from the town centre, the new building appears as an undefined white block. Only on closer inspection does it reveal its beauty.

The building closely follows the slope of the site, thereby making a very immediate reference to its physical context. Its enclosing walls are faced with glass reinforced concrete panels imprinted with oyster shells, a nod towards Roman building materials that included shells. One wall of the pavilion contains a modern hypocaust, again referring to the Roman exhibit, while simple rosette-shaped openings in the walls are a visual allusion to the floral pattern of the mosaic.

The building's tilted roof opens up towards the park, reflecting the mosaic to the outside world via a mirror-faced soffit. This subtle means of communication succeeds in making the passer-by curious as to what exactly is hidden within the aesthetic wrapper. Despite a few flaws, such as crude security doors, the pavilion is not just an enclosure, but also a pleasurable architectural experience.