V&A's "Architects as Artists" reminds us of the glories of free museums

There was troubling news on the museum scene this week.  The BBC reported that while overall visitor numbers to London's free museums had gone up, foreigners account for more of that growth than the natives who pay the taxes to keep the doors open.

The numbers were particularly bad for the Tate and the National Gallery, which have seen British attendance drop by 20% since 2008/09.  The British Museum, Natural History Museum and the V&A can celebrate growth in both domestic and foreign visitors.  Commentators opined that it's probably because those three have bent over backwards to be family friendly, and have spent plenty of marketing money establishing themselves as great places for a family day out.

You couldn't have seen a better illustration of this than the South Kensington tube station at 11am last Friday.  It was half term holiday, and half the Southeast seemed to be heading for the Natural History Museum and the V&A.  The mass of humanity pressing towards the exit turnstiles, 30 people deep and packed solid from one side of the station to the other, was a claustrophobe's worst nightmare.  It made morning rush hour on the Waterloo and City line look like a blissful day out; suited city commuters don't whack your shins with errant baby strollers, and the irritating buzzing of a few too-loud headphones has nothing on the din of hundreds of shrill children in the echo chamber of a tube station ticket hall.  Once clear of the crush, however, I had to smile.  There's nothing like seeing children heading for museums to give you faith in the future.

There were no kids where I was heading, however: a thoughtful, serious and intriguing little exhibition on Architects as Artists.

The V&A often feels like two museums.  There's the ground floor and the British galleries, heaving with visitors … and everywhere else.  Generally, the higher you climb, the fewer people you encounter and the more likely you are to stumble into galleries you never knew existed.  The architecture gallery is one such, up on the fourth floor of the front building.  The main room is filled with a collection of fascinating architectural models that will make you feel like Gulliver stomping about an eclectic, globally-inspired Lilliput.  Architectural drawings, material samples, photos and well-written, informative explanations round out the experience.

There's a long, thin gallery off to the side for temporary exhibits; this is where you'll find Architects as Artists for the next year.

Is an architect an artist?  Or a professional delivering a technical service?  It's a more complicated argument than you'd think, and it's been going on almost as long as there have been named purveyors of the craft.  If a professional, they can charge more and be taken more seriously.  If an artist, however, their work gains a gravitas and is less likely to be meddled with in the future.  (Think of all the glorious buildings that might not have met the wrecking ball had people seen them as "art" rather than derelict homes or offices.)  This exhibit combines archived materials not usually on display with others from the Royal Institute of British Architects to confidently assert the artistic argument.

I was lucky enough to have a wander around with the curator, Roisin Inglesby, so got a bit of extra
insight into the show.  It's a long, narrow gallery with no room for architectural models, so she was mostly limited to works on paper, with one video.  They tell a compelling story well worth a wander.

She breaks up the space into themed chunks, where you can examine various aspects of art.  There are expected plans and drawings, where some architects clearly excelled at draughtsmanship more than others.  A sketch by Raphael studying the workings of the Pantheon is a little gem.  A detailed elevation of one of Edward William Godwin's artists' cottages is a beauty you'd want to hang on your wall.  And if I were a billionaire I'd rather buy something like the Pugin sketchbook on display here (pictured top) than an Impressionist painting.  Further along are architect's presentation drawings, where prospective buildings are imagined and populated to give potential buyers a sense of what they'd be getting.  Both these categories are very obviously by-products of an architect's trade.

I enjoyed the exhibit most, however, when it left the purely professional realm.  In the "pure art" section, there's a luscious watercolour of Egyptian ruins that drops you into the heat and colour, a fabulous comic-book style recording of a European tour by an architectural student in the 1960s too poor to afford a camera, and an intriguing work of punched, layered paper by a German architect making a statement about the Berlin wall (above).

Most magnificent to my eye, however, were the flights of pure imagination.  Never meant to be built, these architectural dreams freed the creators from the reality of clients, budgets and physics.  There's a "capriccio" (basically a mash-up of a variety of buildings, never meant to be together) by Robert Adam that seems a radical departure from his bright, clean neo-classical style.  Yet the moody, Gothic castle on a promontory will strike a familiar chord with anyone who's seen his Culzean Castle near Glasgow. Even more fantastic is a video animation of Piranesi's imagined prisons which magically swoops you in, out and around these iconic fantasy-scapes.  These drawings have obviously influenced everything from Lord of the Rings set design to Hogwarts' swinging staircases.  You can check it out for yourself here.

Like the rest of the museum, this little exhibit is free.  Take note, Brits.  This, and all the other treasure houses that are London's public museums, are yours for the wandering as a taxpayer.  There are few other places in the world where museums are free.  There's no other city where you can see such staggering variety, of such global and historic significance, without opening your wallet.  Come on, Brits!  Appreciate what you have.  You can start with a wonder through this fascinating little show.