Hotel Bohemia: a hotel in the Old Town of Prague adds to urban richness, as well as providing a civilized place to stay in the city centre

Architectural Review, The, May, 2003

Prague is a city of enormous and invigorating stylistic diversity. Its magic arises from its disposition either side of the Vltava river, with Prague Castle omnipresent on the left bank, dominating the city's labyrinthine streets and squares, hidden courtyards, grand boulevards and palaces. But more intangibly, it must arise from the intensifying effects wrought by a fantastical Bohemian imagination on successive influences from France, Italy, Austria and Germany. The result is extraordinary decorative richness and strange dream-like juxtapositions. At times, the flourish over the city of towers and spires, domes, cupolas and pinnacles has an insubstantial visionary quality, seeming detached from the sturdy fabric beneath.

New insertions in central Prague are rare. Recent blots include the lumpen Hilton Hotel; but Frank Gehry's fantastical tendencies seem to have found a natural place, in the form of the topsy-turvy Fred and Ginger building (AR April 1997). Built on the right bank of the river, its elegant interior was designed by Eva Jiricna Architects. Jiricna, who was born in Prague, was also responsible for the glass and steel Orangery in the Royal Gardens of Prague Castle (AR January 2000), and most recently for the Hotel Josef at 20 Rybna in Josefov - the former Jewish quarter of Prague's Old Town. The hotel, Jiricna's largest new building, is off a tiny square, an urban clearing formed by the junction of three streets. The square is dominated by a decorative nineteenth-century police station which flanks the hotel's south side.

All Jiricna's works acknowledge their context. This is true of the Pragu e Orangery which, built alongside a sixteenth-century brick wall, is a sophisticated and thoughtful response to a historic site and to the requirements of modern horticulture. In Josefov, Hotel Josef's street presence is so discreet that you are upon it before you know it. Continuing the line of the police station's pitched roof, it has a plain white facade articulated by the rhythm of lightweight perforated awnings over windows on six floors. The geometric modelling produced by projection and shadow is reminiscent of Czech Cubism without its distortions. (Around the corner at 34 Celetna is one of the movement's masterpieces, Josef GocAr's House of the Black Madonna, built 1911-12). The building is crowned by two further levels, stepped back from the street to give balconies and city views, and to diminish the impression of height next to its northerly, lower neighbour. The ground floor is completely glazed and has an elegant glass canopy projecting over the street. Jiricna's brand of modernity has been gently introduced into this historic quarter. It has been made seductive by transparency, light and use of a sumptuous material--creamy stone--the language overlaid by Jiricna's distinctive engineering bias. So the building is another quiet surprise, adding to the city's richness and diversity.

From the street you see into a luminous white lobby with a diaphanous glass bar and reception desk. At the centre of the pale stone floor, a sculptural flourish of steel indicates the latest version of the practice's filigreed staircases, virtuoso performances in glass and steel (here descending to conference rooms). The preponderance of glass, the luminosity, the silvery glass staircase spun round the exuberant steel ribbon, also seems part of Bohemian expressionist traditions.

The hotel is two buildings (colour-coded pink at the front, orange at the back) separated by an internal courtyard and linked by a glass corridor. A practical response to a deep and irregular site, which slopes from west to east, the arrangement allowed an underground car park and brought natural light into the centre of the plan. Public areas flow seamlessly around the courtyard.

Giving onto the garden through along glazed wall is the breakfast room. Designed in black, white and polished steel, it is a tranquil tribute to '30s Czech Modernism.

The hotel has 110 civilized and airy bedrooms--more than required by the original brief. This is something of a feat considering a tight budget, Prague's planning exigencies and a constricted site.

In designing the bedrooms, the practice has been concerned with clear plans, and the quality of light and space. Limpid light is drawn in through generous windows or glazed walls, and rooms look either into the courtyard or over the city --the largest of them with balconies, on the eighth floor of the pink building, have views over rooftops and the forest of spires and pinnacles to Prague castle.

Using glass and reflection to enlarge space is a device Jiricna adopted long ago (notably in designs for Joseph shops, AR January 1989), and here the device has been put to good effect, the elegant and ingenious detailing distracting attention from the fact that some rooms are quite small. Some bathrooms are stone-lined, others entirely of glass, their privacy guaranteed by sliding mirrored doors. In the smaller rooms they do allow an impression of space. As usual with this practice, attention has been paid to the smallest detail, from design of light fittings to bed linen and coat hangers. The practice has designed the lighting and most of the furniture--such as the glass and steel desks which have a pull-out section for writing; and the carefully proportioned units concealing a minibar and safe. Such pieces are supplemented by brilliantly coloured Balleri chairs, the colour matching that of the blanket thrown over the pristine white bed.