I read an architecture story once where a preservationist was asked to comment on the demolition of an old public library in Brooklyn. “It was not a major work,” she said tactfully. Translation: it was ugly, and we have to pick our battles. It was an attitude I wish Moscow’s preservationists had adopted on Tuesday rather than taking to the streets in defense of the Central House of Artists, a museum complex that houses two major galleries. For one thing, these activists should be conserving their negligible political capital for buildings they have a chance of saving. For another, the Central House of Artists is an awful building that deserves to be torn down.

I say this as someone who finds things to appreciate in almost all Soviet architecture, even the later stuff, like the honeycomb-themed Itar-Tass building or the colonnade of identical 1960s skyscrapers along the Novy Arbat. But I draw the line at the Central House of Artists.

Designed in 1964 as a place to display both international exhibitions and the State Tretyakov Gallery’s growing collection of 20th-century art, the structure took a decade and a half to build. The “New” Tretyakov, as the museum half is colloquially known, didn’t open there until 1985. Planners imagined the complex and its surrounding gardens as a natural extension of the adjacent Gorky Park; the only wrinkle was that these are separated by a twelve-lane highway.

To call the Central House of Artists a failed architectural experiment would be giving it too much credit. There is no experimentation here, unless it is a study in alienation. On approach, the building looks more like a dilapidated mall than a museum. Its featureless white façade and prime location along the Moscow river made it a target for advertisers in the post-Soviet era, so massive ads for a mobile service provider and an insurance company are now permanent roof installations. Grotesque figures in the sculpture garden create the feel of a cemetery, minus the sense of peace. Step into the lobby of the New Tretyakov and there’s no sign of art, only a cavernous space lit by rectangular fluorescent tubes. In galleries that often sit empty, shoddy ventilation makes the air feel stuffy and moist.

There is something to be said for preserving architecture of this kind. It conjures the bleakness of the totalitarian system in a way that no other medium can. But there are plenty of public spaces in Russia that achieve this feeling without holding great paintings hostage. The New Tretyakov is the only place to find the seminal works of Constructivism, Suprematism (including Malevich’s Black Square), Socialist Realism, Stalinist kitsch, and Sots Art under one roof. Surely Russia’s avant-garde masters wouldn’t care to see their work hanging in this glorified warehouse, a sad end to the socialist experiment they once promoted with dynamism and passion. Visitors hesitate to return to the gallery, and guidebooks hold it at arm’s length. Even the state seems to view it as the sick child in the attic, not even granting the New Tretyakov museum its own separate web site.

Authorities want to demolish the building, move both galleries to other locations nearby, and build a 17-story development on the riverbank site, The Moscow Times reports. It almost goes without saying that Sir Norman Foster’s firm is handling the design, which they’ve dubbed “Orange.” Like most new developments in Moscow, it sounds disgusting. But in this case, I think anything is better than what’s there now.

Protesters Assail City Hall Plans [The Moscow Times]

Photo courtesy of the Tretyakov Gallery