The Architecture of the Glyptotek

Reviewed by Barbara Lehtiniemi

“The architecture of the Glyptotek is the perfect example of a museum where form and content unite to create a harmonious whole, and where the art it contains is mirrored in its buildings.”  Gertrud Hvidberg-Hansen, The Architecture of the Glyptotek

When I visited Copenhagen’s Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek art museum in 2011, I took only two photos.  Despite the museum’s extensive collection of sculptures as well as its collections of paintings, my photos contain neither.  No sculptures from Ancient Greece, Rome, or Egypt.  No paintings by French or Danish masters.   

Instead, my photos show only a delightfully ornate stairway and the light-filled and leafy Winter Garden.

The greatest work of art at the Glyptotek may be the building itself.  The Glyptotek is actually a series of buildings, each designed by a different architect and built at different times from 1897 to 2006.  The advantage the architects had, particularly for the first and second buildings, was that they were designing structures to house existing collections of art.

Carl Jacobsen (1842-1914), owner of the Carlsberg brewery, was a knowledgeable collector of art, particularly sculpture.  When his collection outgrew the gallery he had built next to his house (pardon me, I mean his “villa”) in Valby, outside Copenhagen, he sought a permanent home.  Jacobsen offered to donate his collection to the Danish State and the City of Copenhagen, provided they supply the site and undertake the expense of the building.

Jacobsen, who  had a passion for architecture and had visited museums all over Europe, borrowed the name “Glyptotek” (which takes its meaning from the Greek words for “to carve” and “storing place”)  from the Glyptotek in Munich.  Jacobsen worked closely with architect Vilhelm Dahlerup, who had been selected for the initial phase of building,.  The first building, which opened in 1897, was designed with the artwork in mind.

The Architecture of the Glyptotek is comprised of a series of essays, each focussing on a different aspect of the museum.  Using contemporary and historical photographs, sketches, architectural drawings, and maps, the essays trace the Glyptotek’s development from concept to completion, to expansion and modernisation.  The writers are knowledgeable, articulate, and passionate.

In the opening essay, Gertrud Hvidberg-Hansen describes the Glyptotek’s buildings as “the museum’s largest work of art, a monument in the heart of Copenhagen and a source of pride and identity for the city and its people.”  Today, the Glyptotek is one of the most-visited attractions in Copenhagen.

After my all-too-brief visit to the Glyptotek back in 2011, I was hoping The Architecture of the Glyptotek would provide me with expanded insights of the building and the art it houses.  It fulfilled that hope, admirably, and also provided information about the development of Copenhagen into the stunningly beautiful city it has become, as well as providing the backdrop of Copenhagen’s changing social conditions over the past two centuries.

I found the book interesting because I have an interest in architecture, but also because it was fascinating to discover how much setting affects the way we view art.  The historical details of how room size and shape, wall colour, flooring, lighting, and architectural details intersect to “frame” the art displayed within blurs the boundary between what’s inside the frame and what is not.

Although I found some of the architectural details a tad too academic for me, I did enjoy the opportunity to examine the elements that make up the whole.  I only wish I could have visited the Glyptotek while reading this book, to experience first-hand the effect the building has on the art it displays.

Perhaps my favourite essay was on mosaic floors.  Not just an archi-techy description of the floors themselves, but also a history of mosaic flooring, the development of the craft, the training of the craftsmen, followed by the compelling story of how Italian mosaicists working for a German company walked from Russia to Denmark to create the amazing floors of the Glyptotek.

Co-essayists Ida Carnera and Vibeke Cristofoli say of the mosaic floors: “Instead of merely being a surface beneath people’s feet, they become a way to frame and elevate the works of art above them.”  What a tribute to those craftsmen, as well as to the architects who designed the floors, and Carl Jacobsen who conceived the whole.

The Architecture of the Glyptotek is a coffee-table-worthy book, with over 200 photos—many of them full-page—and other illustrations.  It is available from Amazon and also from the Glyptotek’s webshop.