Its unusual outline, composed of two intersecting cylinders and punctured by a honeycomb of hexagonal windows, makes the Melnikov House instantly recognizable.
You might have passed it in the street a million times, however, without ever noticing this world-renowned example of constructivist architecture: New development has walled it in.
To attract fresh attention to the problems faced by this unique building, the New York-based World Monument Fund has placed it on the preservation organization's latest list of endangered architectural landmarks.
When innovative Soviet architect Konstantin Melnikov's family moved into their house on Krivoarbatsky Pereulok in the late 1920s, the building dwarfed Arbat townhouses, its exceptional features proudly on display. From the patio on the roof, "you could see the Kremlin," recalls Viktor Melnikov, the architect's 90-year-old son, who still resides in and maintains the house.
These days, overgrown trees keep the front of the building in shadow, and recent construction around the back blocks the views. The architect's original plan for the sun to shine through the house's windows during the course of the day has been thwarted.
Construction of high-rises and underground parking garages next door "disturbed the hydrobiology of the area -- the soil structure changed, and groundwater came gushing in, flooding the foundation," said Natalya Dushkina, a descendant of Soviet architect Alexei Dushkin and a professor at the Moscow Architecture Institute. "Cracks and fungus appeared."
Botched conservation work in the '90s further weakened the building. "They won't admit that they damaged the structure," Viktor Melnikov said. "The foundation was wet for three years."
Konstantin Melnikov built the house according to his own blueprints in an era when everything was communal and state-owned.
Space was uniquely divided to suit the needs of the family. The house has two brightly lit semicircular studios and a swinging door that can block three different entrances. Cleverly placed screens keep the family bedroom's three beds private.
Another notable feature of the house is the economy of its construction: The house uses one-third of the amount of bricks usually necessary for a building of its height, Viktor Melnikov said. "There was a terrible amount of purely technical inventions, but all of them were in the direction of economy."
Melnikov gladly takes visitors from all over the world around the house -- after they exchange street shoes for slippers -- and shares his home's story.
Inclusion on the WMF's biennial list is the first step in attracting international attention to the deterioration of "the creative manifestation of one of the greatest architects of the 20th century," Dushkina said. In the past, the WMF has been able to jumpstart the restoration of several disintegrating Russian landmarks -- not only through publicizing the cause, but also by allocating funds for repair work.
A starting point for the Melnikov House would be recognition by the government as a federal architectural monument, which would give the building the highest level of protection. Right now, Soviet-era structures are considered to be "monuments of the lowest category," Dushkina said.
For the time being, Viktor Melnikov is caring for the house on his own.
"I have lived here for 76 years," he said, "and sometimes I'll stop and suddenly see a new angle."
You might have passed it in the street a million times, however, without ever noticing this world-renowned example of constructivist architecture: New development has walled it in.
To attract fresh attention to the problems faced by this unique building, the New York-based World Monument Fund has placed it on the preservation organization's latest list of endangered architectural landmarks.
When innovative Soviet architect Konstantin Melnikov's family moved into their house on Krivoarbatsky Pereulok in the late 1920s, the building dwarfed Arbat townhouses, its exceptional features proudly on display. From the patio on the roof, "you could see the Kremlin," recalls Viktor Melnikov, the architect's 90-year-old son, who still resides in and maintains the house.
These days, overgrown trees keep the front of the building in shadow, and recent construction around the back blocks the views. The architect's original plan for the sun to shine through the house's windows during the course of the day has been thwarted.
Construction of high-rises and underground parking garages next door "disturbed the hydrobiology of the area -- the soil structure changed, and groundwater came gushing in, flooding the foundation," said Natalya Dushkina, a descendant of Soviet architect Alexei Dushkin and a professor at the Moscow Architecture Institute. "Cracks and fungus appeared."
Botched conservation work in the '90s further weakened the building. "They won't admit that they damaged the structure," Viktor Melnikov said. "The foundation was wet for three years."
Konstantin Melnikov built the house according to his own blueprints in an era when everything was communal and state-owned.
Space was uniquely divided to suit the needs of the family. The house has two brightly lit semicircular studios and a swinging door that can block three different entrances. Cleverly placed screens keep the family bedroom's three beds private.
Another notable feature of the house is the economy of its construction: The house uses one-third of the amount of bricks usually necessary for a building of its height, Viktor Melnikov said. "There was a terrible amount of purely technical inventions, but all of them were in the direction of economy."
Melnikov gladly takes visitors from all over the world around the house -- after they exchange street shoes for slippers -- and shares his home's story.
Inclusion on the WMF's biennial list is the first step in attracting international attention to the deterioration of "the creative manifestation of one of the greatest architects of the 20th century," Dushkina said. In the past, the WMF has been able to jumpstart the restoration of several disintegrating Russian landmarks -- not only through publicizing the cause, but also by allocating funds for repair work.
A starting point for the Melnikov House would be recognition by the government as a federal architectural monument, which would give the building the highest level of protection. Right now, Soviet-era structures are considered to be "monuments of the lowest category," Dushkina said.
For the time being, Viktor Melnikov is caring for the house on his own.
"I have lived here for 76 years," he said, "and sometimes I'll stop and suddenly see a new angle."
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