Latitude 43 is a modern palace that was designed and built at the beginning of the 1930s after a decade of impressive architectural achievements by the first, and so-called heroic, generation of the Modernest Movement. As early as the 1920s, some of these architects had already demonstrated their new sensibility through commissions to design holiday homes along the Var coastline, including Robert Mallet-Stevens, Pierre Chareau, Djo-Bourgeois, Pierre Barbe, and Le Corbusier. During this same period, Georges-Henri Pingusson, in association with the architect Paul Furiet, was building more traditional villas in the Alpes-Maritimes and the Var. This work was for a clientele that wasn't as open to avant-garde design and didn't embrace the fusion of forms that conjured themes such as functional modernity, Art Deco, and neo-regionalism. However, the commission for a large hotel in Saint-Tropez would lead Pingusson to join a tightly knit group of the most radical Modernist architects. And this path would lead him to a place on the editorial board of L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui, the iconic magazine of the Modernist movement.
CHANGES IN THE TOURISM MARKET : THE HAZARDS OF A MODERN PALACE
Pingusson provided details of the conditions that led to this landmark commission. It was the result of a chance encounter at the port of Sainte-Maxime with fellow yachting enthusiasts Georges Bernet, who was a former Parisian hotel manager, and his wealthy companion, Renée Gaudin. As it happened, Bernet had bought a piece of land that stretched between the Nationale 98 roadway and the sea outside of the historic center of Saint-Tropez, and his objective was to build a hotel. An ambitious project emerged from that encounter, even though Saint-Tropez was still a modest fishing port. While the town was once celebrated by painters (Signac...), beyond a few notable exceptions (Colette…) Saint-Tropez wasn’t frequented by the Parisian and international clientele needed to make a prestigious hotel viable. A certain number of questionable choices and unfavorable socio-economic circumstances would render the destiny of Latitude 43 chaotic, to say the least.
If we compare this hotel project with the typical design of palaces, we find the same elements: diverse communal spaces (for meals, recreation, socializing, sports and games, business meetings, etc.), rooms that distinguish residents from domestic staff, a park and gardens, and numerous spaces dedicated to technical services. Pingusson summarized the Latitude 43 project as follows: “100 rooms with 100 bathrooms, 20 courier rooms (trusted men who manage the organization of trips and stays, author's note), 20 drivers' rooms, a casino, a sports club with tennis and two swimming pools, shops, and major businesses...” However, considering this description and the hotel's expected clientele, Pingusson's words evoking the hotel as “a dream of a simple retreat for intellectuals and artists” resonate as a contradiction.
The first plans were finalized on October 19, 1931, and the rapid construction work took place over the first six months of 1932. In July, the hotel was delivered with certain facilities accessible to the outside public (swimming pool, casino, dance hall). But the hotel was soon considered unprofitable, and it was purchased by a Russian billionaire, Georges Khiagine. When the war period began, Latitude 43 was requisitioned by the French government and then occupied by Italian, German, and American troops, before being taken over by the French government again. The hotel briefly reopened, but it was later purchased by the property developer Lefebvre-Despeaux. After extensive renovations to divide the building and the separation of the land into lots, the entire property was sold in 1950.
These proceedings were linked to the general economic situation that was impacting the luxury hotel industry on the Mediterranean coast, as well as on the Atlantic and the English Channel coasts. Although it began in the 1840s, the grand era of modern palaces lasted from the 1890s to the First World War. The inter-war period saw significant changes in both tourism and larger society: the transition from winter residences to summer seaside resorts, competition from mountain resorts, the Russian Revolution that led to the disappearance of affluent Russian clientele, the New York stock market crash of 1929 and the resulting economic crisis of the 1930s, the emergence of the left-wing Popular Front in France and the timid beginnings of the democratization of holidays... This is why, at the turn of the 1930s, certain palatial hotels saw a decline in business. Then, the Second World War and the almost systematic occupation of hotels by troops and governments left these hotels damaged, which often led to their conversion into apartments. Some of these palaces, located on the seafront or in city centers, survived as hotels, such as those in Nice and Cannes (Negresco, Ruhl, Carlton, Majestic, etc.). However, this was not the fate of Latitude 43.
AN EXCEPTIONAL COMMISSION AND SITE : THE GENIUS OF THE LAYERED APPROACH
The commission given to Pingusson was an extraordinary opportunity to create a total work of art. The architect designed everything from the company's logo to the furnishings, including crockery, cutlery, stationery, and even the uniforms of the various employees... The entire ensemble was in keeping with the spirit of the site and the most advanced forms of modernity. While the outdoor furniture was made of wood and the chairs in the restaurant of rattan, the furniture in the rooms was based on the tubular structures dear to the Bauhaus (Stam, Breuer) and the “Useful Forms” of the Union of Modern Artists. (The UAM design movement was launched in 1929, and Pingusson would become one of its most ardent protagonists.) The decoration of the rooms at Latitude 43 was sober and uncluttered, as the architect desired a monastic atmosphere conducive to rest and meditation. Several artists were asked to contribute. The lobby/entry hall was decorated with a fresco by the English painter Harry Bloomfield, while the walls of the rooms were hung with works by the English painter Roger Nickalls, a pupil of André Lhote. The architect himself designed the large carpet in the hall with the help of his partner, Micheline Laurent, and it was woven by the carpet factory in Cogolin.
The architectural composition was notable for several elements. It was an imposing building that was more than one hundred meters long with a unique slimness, pure and unadorned lines, and a non-symmetrical design (a classical value). There were also the new forms and neo-futuristic touches that enhanced the asymmetry and juxtaposed the horizontal span of the building's central mass with the volume of the vertical circulations (in the manner of Robert Mallet-Stevens' villas). The structure's subtle inclination in the western part–which Pingusson argued was needed as protection from the Mistral wind–also made it easier to settle on other decisions, such as the route of the passage under the building and the shortening of the interior passageways.
The building’s main volume held the reception area and the bedrooms, with other important design elements distributed throughout the property. The 300-seat bar/restaurant was physically separated from the reception area but linked with patios, while a succession of horizontal openings provided views of the sea. A water tower was positioned on the upper part of the land towards the back of the property, and this was balanced by the Olympic-sized seawater swimming pool and the casino/dance hall located near the main road.
The main and the most original design feature was the choice to slice the structure into layers to optimize the placement of the rooms. This was necessary because of the topographical constraints of property as it sloped down to the coastline in the north. The challenge was to preserve the southern sunlight to the rooms while also offering views of the sea. The architect developed a unique sectional layout with low passageways located midway between two superimposed rooms. The rooms traversed the building and benefited from large southern balconies and wide panoramic windows to the north that enhanced the view of the sea.
The park, with its pines and cypresses, pergola, well, and pathway, was largely preserved from the pre-existing villa, the “Chateau” Vasserot. (This villa would eventually be demolished.) The pathway, which was reshaped to match the topography, sloped down to the edge of the land, passing below the imposing hotel building–where a massive cylinder marked the point of the path’s inflection–and ended under a canopy at the foot of the vertical circulations. It offered guests a fluid and scenic approach to the hotel that unfolded in a sequence of discoveries.
TEMPTED BY MODERNITY : A NAUTICAL METAPHOR
With its very name, Latitude 43 immediately announced the futuristic spirit of the building, in the manner of the contemporary villa E-1027 in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin that was designed by Eileen Gray and Jean Badovici. From the moment it was built, the press and professional critics celebrated the hotel. L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui devoted a remarkable 20 pages to the building in its December 1932 issue. The article emphasized the ingenuity of the layered sections; however, it was the global design that attracted the most attention because it embraced the notion of the “community building” that architects so deeply appreciated during that period. It could be seen as following the example of the Soviet constructivist architects (the “social condensers”) and Le Corbusier's work on the “Unité d'habitation” with its standard sizes and extensions of the dwelling spaces.
The general contractor Clavier oversaw the construction, and it was characterized by the choice of a reinforced concrete column/beam structure with brick fillings. This technique was already well-known and had been used for the construction of other hotels and villas that, more or less, adopted a Modernist style, such as the Villa Noailles in Hyères.
The resulting aesthetic wasn’t the “truth in construction” espoused by Auguste Perret, but instead used forms to enhance purist volumes. This idea was dear to Robert Mallet-Stevens, to Le Corbusier (he built his 1920s villas according to these principles to create metaphors for machines), and, more generally, was part of the overall philosophy of architectural modernity that would become known as the Modern International Movement.
The reference to sailing, the “ocean liner style”, which was symbolic of modernity in the inter-war period–the era of the great transatlantic races–distinguished the character of Latitude 43. The flag at the entrance, the large chimney atop the building, the presence of portholes on the stairwells to the west and in the upper part of the building are all details that contribute to this ambiance. But there is more, the arrangement of the masses themselves evoked the form of an ocean liner. The building was reminiscent of the superstructure and the decks of a ship, from the gradual retreat of the balconies on the upper part of the tapered volume to the horizontality underlined by the reliefs of the passageways. These nautical references, which are sometimes easy to find, especially in Art Deco architecture, were undoubtedly essential here, so close to the sea.
In 1937, work began to “improve” the building. It was done with input from Pingusson and did not alter the original spirit of the building. Instead, it improved the access sequence (large awning), completed the composition of the gardens (sculpture/stream of water/pond), occupied the beach area (jetty), and replaced the original yellow-brown plaster with characteristically modern white plaster. Later, however, significant changes would profoundly modify the building and its context, such as the transformation of the rooms into apartments and the construction of a housing complex in the park in the 1980s. Given its form, the late addition of an external emergency staircase at the right of the west wing actually placed Latitude 43 in perfect harmony with the style of the modern apartment building.
Today, Latitude 43 has about 80 apartments, and the architectural integrity of the privately-owned cooperative led to its certification as an official historical monument in 1992 (the French government placed it on the prestigious “Inventaire Supplémentaire des Monuments Historiques”). It has since received further recognition, having been bestowed with the French certification for remarkable contemporary architecture in 2001 (previously known as “Label Patrimoine XXe siècle”).
CHANGES IN THE TOURISM MARKET : THE HAZARDS OF A MODERN PALACE
Pingusson provided details of the conditions that led to this landmark commission. It was the result of a chance encounter at the port of Sainte-Maxime with fellow yachting enthusiasts Georges Bernet, who was a former Parisian hotel manager, and his wealthy companion, Renée Gaudin. As it happened, Bernet had bought a piece of land that stretched between the Nationale 98 roadway and the sea outside of the historic center of Saint-Tropez, and his objective was to build a hotel. An ambitious project emerged from that encounter, even though Saint-Tropez was still a modest fishing port. While the town was once celebrated by painters (Signac...), beyond a few notable exceptions (Colette…) Saint-Tropez wasn’t frequented by the Parisian and international clientele needed to make a prestigious hotel viable. A certain number of questionable choices and unfavorable socio-economic circumstances would render the destiny of Latitude 43 chaotic, to say the least.
If we compare this hotel project with the typical design of palaces, we find the same elements: diverse communal spaces (for meals, recreation, socializing, sports and games, business meetings, etc.), rooms that distinguish residents from domestic staff, a park and gardens, and numerous spaces dedicated to technical services. Pingusson summarized the Latitude 43 project as follows: “100 rooms with 100 bathrooms, 20 courier rooms (trusted men who manage the organization of trips and stays, author's note), 20 drivers' rooms, a casino, a sports club with tennis and two swimming pools, shops, and major businesses...” However, considering this description and the hotel's expected clientele, Pingusson's words evoking the hotel as “a dream of a simple retreat for intellectuals and artists” resonate as a contradiction.
The first plans were finalized on October 19, 1931, and the rapid construction work took place over the first six months of 1932. In July, the hotel was delivered with certain facilities accessible to the outside public (swimming pool, casino, dance hall). But the hotel was soon considered unprofitable, and it was purchased by a Russian billionaire, Georges Khiagine. When the war period began, Latitude 43 was requisitioned by the French government and then occupied by Italian, German, and American troops, before being taken over by the French government again. The hotel briefly reopened, but it was later purchased by the property developer Lefebvre-Despeaux. After extensive renovations to divide the building and the separation of the land into lots, the entire property was sold in 1950.
These proceedings were linked to the general economic situation that was impacting the luxury hotel industry on the Mediterranean coast, as well as on the Atlantic and the English Channel coasts. Although it began in the 1840s, the grand era of modern palaces lasted from the 1890s to the First World War. The inter-war period saw significant changes in both tourism and larger society: the transition from winter residences to summer seaside resorts, competition from mountain resorts, the Russian Revolution that led to the disappearance of affluent Russian clientele, the New York stock market crash of 1929 and the resulting economic crisis of the 1930s, the emergence of the left-wing Popular Front in France and the timid beginnings of the democratization of holidays... This is why, at the turn of the 1930s, certain palatial hotels saw a decline in business. Then, the Second World War and the almost systematic occupation of hotels by troops and governments left these hotels damaged, which often led to their conversion into apartments. Some of these palaces, located on the seafront or in city centers, survived as hotels, such as those in Nice and Cannes (Negresco, Ruhl, Carlton, Majestic, etc.). However, this was not the fate of Latitude 43.
AN EXCEPTIONAL COMMISSION AND SITE : THE GENIUS OF THE LAYERED APPROACH
The commission given to Pingusson was an extraordinary opportunity to create a total work of art. The architect designed everything from the company's logo to the furnishings, including crockery, cutlery, stationery, and even the uniforms of the various employees... The entire ensemble was in keeping with the spirit of the site and the most advanced forms of modernity. While the outdoor furniture was made of wood and the chairs in the restaurant of rattan, the furniture in the rooms was based on the tubular structures dear to the Bauhaus (Stam, Breuer) and the “Useful Forms” of the Union of Modern Artists. (The UAM design movement was launched in 1929, and Pingusson would become one of its most ardent protagonists.) The decoration of the rooms at Latitude 43 was sober and uncluttered, as the architect desired a monastic atmosphere conducive to rest and meditation. Several artists were asked to contribute. The lobby/entry hall was decorated with a fresco by the English painter Harry Bloomfield, while the walls of the rooms were hung with works by the English painter Roger Nickalls, a pupil of André Lhote. The architect himself designed the large carpet in the hall with the help of his partner, Micheline Laurent, and it was woven by the carpet factory in Cogolin.
The architectural composition was notable for several elements. It was an imposing building that was more than one hundred meters long with a unique slimness, pure and unadorned lines, and a non-symmetrical design (a classical value). There were also the new forms and neo-futuristic touches that enhanced the asymmetry and juxtaposed the horizontal span of the building's central mass with the volume of the vertical circulations (in the manner of Robert Mallet-Stevens' villas). The structure's subtle inclination in the western part–which Pingusson argued was needed as protection from the Mistral wind–also made it easier to settle on other decisions, such as the route of the passage under the building and the shortening of the interior passageways.
The building’s main volume held the reception area and the bedrooms, with other important design elements distributed throughout the property. The 300-seat bar/restaurant was physically separated from the reception area but linked with patios, while a succession of horizontal openings provided views of the sea. A water tower was positioned on the upper part of the land towards the back of the property, and this was balanced by the Olympic-sized seawater swimming pool and the casino/dance hall located near the main road.
The main and the most original design feature was the choice to slice the structure into layers to optimize the placement of the rooms. This was necessary because of the topographical constraints of property as it sloped down to the coastline in the north. The challenge was to preserve the southern sunlight to the rooms while also offering views of the sea. The architect developed a unique sectional layout with low passageways located midway between two superimposed rooms. The rooms traversed the building and benefited from large southern balconies and wide panoramic windows to the north that enhanced the view of the sea.
The park, with its pines and cypresses, pergola, well, and pathway, was largely preserved from the pre-existing villa, the “Chateau” Vasserot. (This villa would eventually be demolished.) The pathway, which was reshaped to match the topography, sloped down to the edge of the land, passing below the imposing hotel building–where a massive cylinder marked the point of the path’s inflection–and ended under a canopy at the foot of the vertical circulations. It offered guests a fluid and scenic approach to the hotel that unfolded in a sequence of discoveries.
TEMPTED BY MODERNITY : A NAUTICAL METAPHOR
With its very name, Latitude 43 immediately announced the futuristic spirit of the building, in the manner of the contemporary villa E-1027 in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin that was designed by Eileen Gray and Jean Badovici. From the moment it was built, the press and professional critics celebrated the hotel. L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui devoted a remarkable 20 pages to the building in its December 1932 issue. The article emphasized the ingenuity of the layered sections; however, it was the global design that attracted the most attention because it embraced the notion of the “community building” that architects so deeply appreciated during that period. It could be seen as following the example of the Soviet constructivist architects (the “social condensers”) and Le Corbusier's work on the “Unité d'habitation” with its standard sizes and extensions of the dwelling spaces.
The general contractor Clavier oversaw the construction, and it was characterized by the choice of a reinforced concrete column/beam structure with brick fillings. This technique was already well-known and had been used for the construction of other hotels and villas that, more or less, adopted a Modernist style, such as the Villa Noailles in Hyères.
The resulting aesthetic wasn’t the “truth in construction” espoused by Auguste Perret, but instead used forms to enhance purist volumes. This idea was dear to Robert Mallet-Stevens, to Le Corbusier (he built his 1920s villas according to these principles to create metaphors for machines), and, more generally, was part of the overall philosophy of architectural modernity that would become known as the Modern International Movement.
The reference to sailing, the “ocean liner style”, which was symbolic of modernity in the inter-war period–the era of the great transatlantic races–distinguished the character of Latitude 43. The flag at the entrance, the large chimney atop the building, the presence of portholes on the stairwells to the west and in the upper part of the building are all details that contribute to this ambiance. But there is more, the arrangement of the masses themselves evoked the form of an ocean liner. The building was reminiscent of the superstructure and the decks of a ship, from the gradual retreat of the balconies on the upper part of the tapered volume to the horizontality underlined by the reliefs of the passageways. These nautical references, which are sometimes easy to find, especially in Art Deco architecture, were undoubtedly essential here, so close to the sea.
In 1937, work began to “improve” the building. It was done with input from Pingusson and did not alter the original spirit of the building. Instead, it improved the access sequence (large awning), completed the composition of the gardens (sculpture/stream of water/pond), occupied the beach area (jetty), and replaced the original yellow-brown plaster with characteristically modern white plaster. Later, however, significant changes would profoundly modify the building and its context, such as the transformation of the rooms into apartments and the construction of a housing complex in the park in the 1980s. Given its form, the late addition of an external emergency staircase at the right of the west wing actually placed Latitude 43 in perfect harmony with the style of the modern apartment building.
Today, Latitude 43 has about 80 apartments, and the architectural integrity of the privately-owned cooperative led to its certification as an official historical monument in 1992 (the French government placed it on the prestigious “Inventaire Supplémentaire des Monuments Historiques”). It has since received further recognition, having been bestowed with the French certification for remarkable contemporary architecture in 2001 (previously known as “Label Patrimoine XXe siècle”).