How much does your building weigh, Mr Foster?

After going there on Friday to see Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, we were back at the Colisée in Carcassonne this evening to see the documentary about Norman Foster, How much does your building weigh, Mr Foster?. Local interest is aroused by the fact that Foster's firm won the contract to design the new archaeological museum in Narbonne, due to open in 2016. The future director of the museum was there, along with the local architect who is liaising with Foster's team.

Nowhere in the film's promotional material, or indeed in the reviews, is it mentioned that the producer is -- ahem -- Foster's wife. As such, it is pretty much a hagiography ... no criticism allowed, every project a resounding success (the wobbly Millennium Bridge was not mentioned). But still ... as we came out I said to S, "Doesn't Norman Foster make you feel inadequate?". "Yes," he replied. The number of iconic structures that have his name on them is nothing short of stunning -- the Viaduct at Millau being the most impressive of course. They'll still be standing centuries after he is gone. What a feeling it must be to have put your stamp on whole landscapes like that. It makes our own creations seem very petty. But you also have to reflect that Foster employs 1,400 people in his practice, average age 32. These nameless ones must be very talented too, and he makes a point of saying that one of his greatest achievements is his team-building.

The new museum in Narbonne is definitely low-rent Foster, designed to a budget. None of the grandeur and elegance of the Gherkin, the Reichstag, the Sainsbury Centre, Beijing airport, or even Stanstead come to that. It looks like a sandwich made of white sliced bread. Then again, the future director argued, not without merit, that you go to a museum to look at the exhibits, not the building (think of the Guggenheim in Bilbao, where the building is a far greater work of art than any of the exhibits inside it). We shall see -- at least Narbonne will have a real museum, something long overdue.

The film had wonderful shots of many of Foster's well-known projects, both inside and outside, and it made me think how it's hard to be interested in photography without simultaneously developing an interest in architecture.

Anyway -- this photo has nothing to do with any of that. After the film we walked through the sinister morgue that is Carcassonne on a Monday night, and had a glass of wine and a hamburger at the Cochon Noir, where I quickly took this photo.