Judging an Embassy by its Facade

By Rebecca Park

The Embassy of Italy, designed by Piero Sartogo, on Whitehaven Street
(courtesy of the Embassy of Italy).

A nation’s embassy houses its diplomatic mission abroad. It is a space for international wheeling-and-dealing and the somewhat less exotic bureaucratic red-tape services common with all consulates. A place for foreign nationals to get a taste of home, but where Washingtonians can visit for a brief brush with another culture. But what about the building itself? The relationship between the interior’s action and the architectural exterior, at its best, is subtle enough to go unnoticed but shapes the way the building is used and the nation it represents is perceived. A closer look at some of DC’s recent ambassadorial arrivals provides the opportunity to explore the ever-evolving dynamic between place and purpose.

Scandinavian Style, on the Banks of the Potomac

The House of Sweden, home of the Swedish Embassy as well as apartments and exhibition spaces, tucked away in quiet Georgetown, far from the Embassy Row crowds, offers a spot of tranquil simplicity that captures the political and cultural practices of the country it represents. Opened in 2006, Gert Wingårdh’s building received the prestigious Kasper Salin Prize from the Swedish Association of Architects in 2007. Stone, wood, glass and steel, the only materials used, combined with minimal decoration emphasize national design traditions while also symbolizing the mechanics of the government at work inside.

“Openness and transparency” is the philosophy that governs the Swedish state and their new Embasy. In an interview with Mats Widbom, Cultural Counselor at the Embassy of Sweden, he stressed the importance of this basic tenet. “You have this concept of accessibility, openness and transparency in Swedish society,” he said. “And that is reflected also in the architecture here.” Open windows, blurring the line between the natural and the man-made, give the passerby a glimpse into the government of one of the world’s most well-known progressive societies.

Any tour of the House of Sweden begins at their Event Center, an open, airy exhibition space that provides a casual setting to explore the rotating displays on Swedish life and its interaction with the American way. Here, we have the epitome of Scandinavian design. Clean, straight lines. Walls of windows, flooding the hall with natural light. Little extraneous décor. Wood panel floors that mimic rag rugs, the floor coverings made of recycled cloth common to Swedish summer homes. “Very pure, clear functions, natural materials, very little decoration,” Widbom described the interior. “Instead, opening up for a dialogue with surrounding nature.”

Meandering down the stairs, the lower level foyer provides a space for the architect to play with glass, water and light, evoking the landscape of Sweden’s archipelagos. The conference room at the bottom of the stairs, currently arranged to host the responsibilities that come with the Swedish EU Presidency, takes the most conventional staple of Nordic design—Ikea, the room’s sponsor—and transforms a business space into something radically new, a casual, livable, warm nook that just so happens to be for politicians, not college freshmen. A few steps away, Alfred Nobel Hall differs starkly from the light-filled cheeriness seen elsewhere so far at the Embassy. Dark, windowless walls, perfect for framing the vividly color photo exhibits often on display here, remind the visitor of the dramatic contrasts of life in Sweden: all-day cycles of day or night, depending on the season, a wide open wild landmass spotted with a few densely populated urban centers.

But I emerged from this black hole with Widbom to take an elevator ride up to the roof, empty and deserted the day I was visiting, though often used for events, like a recent series of evening concerts during Nordic Jazz Week. The sun, reflecting off the shiny, boat-filled blue of the Potomac, hits the stone of the roof floor, blinding the casual visitor. But spend some time up here. Look out to where the Rock Creek Canal and Potomac River join; there’s not much to distract the eye. Squint because of the sun, or to imagine the Swedish landscape, not all so different from this one. At night, the backlit building shines, floating above the surrounding water. A new structure for an old purpose. Lightening the load of foreign diplomacy, a streamlined building open to visitors and sunlight alike.

Lighting the Piazza

Italy is more than just a couple kilometers south of Sweden. But here in DC, one needs only to walk a few blocks north to get the Embassy of the former from the latter’s. And in that short distance, you leave one world for another. Sure, there are similarities, the obsession with glass and natural light being the most significant. But the Embassy of Italy offers as unique a vision of the politics of design and government as the House of Sweden does.

The current Italian Embassy, a dynamic modern structure designed by architect Piero Sartogo, opened in 2000. Working with the American architecture firm of Leo A. Daly, the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs set to find a design that would incorporate the Italian mission with the American landscape.

The Italian Embassy derives its natural harmony from its geometric layout. A large square building inspired by Pierre Charles l’Enfant’s original plan for the American capital, it is divided along a central axis to mimic the Potomac River, blending environmental elements with a massive man-made structure. An airy atrium unites the two halves, bridging not only the two parts of the building but also, by evoking an early morning piazza, recalling the structure’s Italian roots and purpose.

But, unlike House of Sweden with its cozy yet structured charm, the Embassy of Italy is strictly government business as usual. Approaching the building, the warmth of the interior atrium is nowhere to be seen, masked by high, almost windowless walls. The color scheme of bright reds, blues and yellows promotes a high-energy administrative hustle (which the atrium’s well-done café doesn’t discourage). The central circular space embraces the visitor, yes, but it is also not-so-subtly hiding the labyrinth of bureaucratic offices jutting out in all directions.

Really distinguishing the Italian Embassy, though, is its devotion to design, from the archeological artifacts lining the walls to the carefully curated 20th century furniture elegantly strewn about the building. The visitor leaves the Embassy with the same impressions as one gleans from a museum. With hands behind the back, observing the sacred “no touching” rule, one thoughtfully admires all while considering oneself worlds apart from this governmental realm.

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