Art Nouveau to Modernism: Architecture in Malta 1910-1950

By Conrad Thake

Published by Kite Group

Following much anticipation, Conrad Thake’s latest work, published last month, came as a most welcome tonic to us architecture enthusiasts and nostalgiques.

He had been teasing followers on social media with periodic posts portraying significant architects practising during the start of the last century.

Having these personalities collected in one tome would be a first, and no one I believe could have put this together better than Thake, who in recent years has directed his research interests to particular buildings and their creators: icons which grace/d Malta’s rich architectural landscape.

As implied by its title, this book deals with a specific period of 40 years, which although merely half-a-lifespan amidst the vastness of our small nation’s history, was a time so dynamic, to which architecture had to adapt, and fast.

Giuseppe Psaila, Balluta Buildings, St Julian’s

A thought-provoking foreword is delivered by Judge Giovanni Bonello sets a fitting socio-political context, whilst Prof. Richard England introduces the book, sharing his own preferences and anecdotes, having known a number of the featured protagonists personally.

Before embarking on this architectural journey, the author provides the reader with a comprehensive overview of the eventful turn-of-the-century decades, which had been characterised by an ever-strengthening economic footing. Milestones in major infrastructural and urban schemes are highlighted, these stoking two generations of architects to churn out buildings which, by local standards, were largely original in style.

While in Europe, the struggle for a new architectural grammar had been ongoing since the late 1800s, it was significantly later that Malta reacted. The serene Victorian glory years dominated by Emmanuele Luigi Galizia, Giuseppe Bonavia, and Francesco Zammit, together with interventions by British architects, notably the Royal Engineers, were slowly waning.

Classicism had hitherto reigned supreme in all designs architectural despite charming attempts at (oft-alien) historic revivalism, evidently in consonance with colonial tastes. Neo-classicism conceded to ornamental borrowings from the Palladian and Beaux-Arts schools. A general centuries-old fondness for Baroque still prevailed and persevered well into the new century. It was only in the wake of the Great War that proper experimentation in search of a ‘modern’ style gained some form of momentum.

Surely many a perit, now regulated by the newly established Camera degli Architetti (1920), followed with keen interest the global leaps and bounds being made towards an innovative architecture of the time. Several more must have been somewhat frustrated by insular limitations, both in fashion as well as resources. Limestone was still the primary building material, with little else from what the Knights of St John had at their disposal.

Andrea Vassallo, drawing of elevation of Villa Said, Tower Road, Sliema. Photo: Richard Ellis Archives

Notwithstanding, the intuitive dexterity boasted by Maltese scalpellini and capomastri was celebrated internationally, and Thake gives due credit to this vene­rable and most unique trade of our land. And what an embodiment of this skill was Andrea Vassallo, the first of a sequence of architects whom the author analyses in individual chapters.

The professional development and output of this kapumastru-turned-perito is simply fascinating with a portfolio including many pieces which are today landmark historic monuments.

What is of special interest is how Vassallo seemingly introduced Art Nouveau to Malta with Casa Said on the Sliema front, a building I heartrendingly remember being torn down back in the early 1990s. His was an Italianate interpretation of this new, modern expression, yet clients were more interested in his other traditional and historicist capabilities.

Vassallo personified the transition from Victorian romanticism towards Art Nouveau in its literal definition, exemplified by exquisite mastery of Maltese stone craftsmanship, and indeed with his demise an architectural era came to an end.

Alessandro Manara and Emanuele Borg, Roseville, Attard. Photo: Charles Paul Azzopardi

Another leader comes in the figure of Giuseppe Psaila of Balluta Buildings fame, but who designed some enchanting examples of Art Nouveau and Deco residences in Sliema, most notably those on St Margaret Street. Despite Psaila’s predilection for ornamentation, his employment of steel beams clad in local stone to create capacious projections and cantilevers clearly demonstrated his will to break away from traditional fully-walled enclosed spaces.

Sadly, Psaila’s was a career which was prematurely stunted by a tragic accident, unlike that of his contemporary Gustavo Vincenti, who, after Vassallo, is arguably the most versatile Maltese architect of the early-to-mid 20th century. Here, besides a professional, we have a landowner, developer and entrepreneur who was highly respected and wealthy. Together with Psaila, he spent his formative years in the studio of Annibale Lupi serving affluent clients.

While in Europe, the struggle for a new architectural grammar had been ongoing since the late 1800s, it was significantly later that Malta reacted

It is, in fact, intriguing to understand how the styles we associate with these three periti developed, and certainly more research on this aspect is warranted. Aside of his extensive business dealings in real estate, Vincenti’s passion for design is remarkable. Thake again dedicates an entire chapter to Vincenti, citing from previous texts by Renato Laferla and David Ellul; however, a focussed publication on this key player is necessary.

Godwin Galizia followed in the footsteps of his illustrious father in the way of his diligence and love for the profession. His talents are celebrated by the author, whom I know has a special interest in this dynasty, and recall a captivating lecture he gave some years ago about (and inside) the church of St Gregory the Great in Sliema, and which he now immortalises in this book. Undoubtedly there are more buildings hitherto unidentified pertaining to this younger Galizia.

Detail of decorative stonework, Roseville, Attard. Photo: Charles Paul Azzopardi

It is in the final two chapters that the tempo somewhat increases, with attention being turned towards the influence of politics both local and abroad on architecture. In parallel with Vincenti and Psaila, other equals were moulding their own signature styles based on their social and political leanings. We read about the fascist expressionism of Silvio Mercieca, the staunchly Mannerist monumentality of Alberto Laferla, who detested anything Art Nouveau, and the softer, whimsical eclecticist dreaminess of Joseph Cachia Caruana.

Yet in tandem with these quasi-scenographic (and short-lived) styles, other architects, notably Salvatore Ellul and Joseph Colombo, had looked far ahead and afield for inspiration. Their interest lay in the teachings of Adolf Loos, the Bauhaus, the already establishing International Style, which they coyly tried (as architects tend to do) to promote in the design of their very homes.

In the aftermath of World War II, with reinforced concrete more readily available, the path towards Modernism was sure, particularly with the vast housing schemes as well as new institutional and industrial premises. Thake also touches on other periti who produced important landmarks, and provides the reader with a useful index, thanks to which we can finally put faces to some of these gentlemen.

Art Nouveau to Modernism: Architecture in Malta 1910-1950 is a must-have for anyone who has Malta’s architectural heritage at heart. It comes as little surprise that, within barely a month of publication, it was fast being sold out.

The timeliness of its launch could not be more poignant as it happened within days of the issue of a conservation order for the iconic yet beleaguered Palazzina Vincenti, to which Thake paid special tribute,  in the light of a threat to its complete destruction. This state of affairs reflects the sheer lack of knowledge on architecture of the last century, particularly Maltese Modernism, which went on to mature well into the 1970s and urgently deserves an equally edifying and clear study.

The volume was published by Kite Group, who have steadily built a reputation as one of the leading local publishers on art-and-cultural heritage-related themes. Most of the book is illustrated with black-and-white photographs, main­ly based on the photographic collections of the Malta National Archives and the Richard Ellis Archive, and complemented by contemporary photographs taken by Charles Paul Azzopardi.

Broadlands Mansions

There is also a selection of plates in colour also by Azzopardi highlighting the main buildings. The book also includes a comprehensive listing of synoptic biographical profiles of the architects who were active during this period, with each entry accompanied by a passport-type portrait photograph of the architect.

Apart from being a valid precious addition to our libraries, Conrad Thake’s limited-edition is indeed an invaluable tool for heritage practitioners, and I sincerely hope that dog-eared and note-filled copies of it soon sit on the desks of those authorities that decide which buildings are to be deemed heritage assets and given due protection.