GOVERNING WITH GRACE.

A ministry building, designed to modern standards, slips gently and with dignity into the nineteenth-century fabric of Helsinki's government quarter.

Helsinki's centre is largely Neo-Classical, ranged round the monumental Senate Square by Carl Ludwig Engel, built between 1818 and 1822 as a celebration of Finland's incorporation into the Russian empire as a Grand Duchy. About 30 years ago, some of the original buildings in the government quarter were wantonly pulled down because of their poor state of repair, and one of the gap sites, at the corner of Kirkko and Meritullin streets, remained an inner urban car park until recently. Now, it is occupied by an office block, the headquarters of the Ministry of Social Affairs and Health.

The original buildings in the area are of brick and stucco but the new one is in light grey Finnish granite, nevertheless it conforms to the general height of the area and, in its way, responds to the strong modelling of its Classical and Jugendstil neighbours. As usual with modern developments in nineteenth-century cityscapes, the architects were faced with the elevational problem of having to insert more floors with wider windows than their neighbours. Granite was chosen as an honorific material to indicate that the building is in government service. (It has been popular for such functions since the late nineteenth century; in Engel's time, before power machines, the material was virtually unworkable.) The complicated three-dimensional treatment of the fenestration is intended to relate to the tall windows of the surrounding Neo-Classical buildings. A rounded glass corner connects the two main street facades, and the main horizontal lines of the neighbours, the eaves and the string over the base floor, are echoed in the new building.

The main entrance on Meritullinkatu is under a minimalist glass canopy, and is signalled by a transparent cleft in the rational elevation. From this, light pours into the tall hall, which is grand and welcoming simultaneously. A pink wall of polished plaster rises behind the reception desk. Bridges fly over the entrance route so, through the glass slot over the entrance, the public can see their civil servants scurrying or drifting about.

To the right of the hail is the ministry library and the staff canteen, which seems to be in use during most of the day for informal meetings and chats. Straight ahead are a couple of formal committee rooms, and to the left is the entrance to the scheme's most daring move: a crescent of offices which curls into the heart of the city block.

On plan, this looks rather like a wilful formal device. In fact, it allows the cellular offices (required by both ministry and its employees alike) to have daylight and a view of the sky (sometimes rather radically restricted by the proximity of neighbouring bits of building). The white concrete walls and brass window frames of this back projection are intended to bring light into the core of the site -- a constant pursuit of Finnish architecture since the arrival of modern technology. Light is reflected from the white surfaces down into the courts, the principal one of which is outside the cafe.

The problem with double-banked corridors is of course their institutional character: extend them enough and you arrive in Kafka's Castle. Here, they are not very long, and are carefully broken by moments which allow views to the neighbouring buildings, and further to the park and the Orthodox cathedral. The sixth floor has a delightful glass arcade on the inner arc of the curve of the back wing that looks into the courts, and serves the official conference rooms and the sauna, compulsory in all official Finnish buildings. Rooms at this level have views over the rooftops of Helsinki to Engel's Lutheran cathedral in Senate Square.

This is not a building which many members of the public will visit. It houses the folk who run the local offices which deal with citizens' individual pension and health problems, and few people will turn up at the front door with toothache or queries about their bus passes. But anyone who goes to the place is greeted by the notion of a decent state, dignified but not extravagant, civil but not showy, efficient yet conscious of individuality. This is how democracies should build for their servants.

Architect

Helin & Siltonen Architects, Helsinki

Partner in charge

Pekka Helin

Photographs

Jussi Tiainen 1, 2, 3, 4, 7

Titta Lumio 5, 6

Voitto Niemelia 8

1. The new building fits modestly into the nineteenth-century context.

2. Entrance is welcoming and dignified without being ostentatious.

3. Fenestration was evolved to respond to strong modelling of Neo-Classical and Neo-Renaissance neighbours.

4. Entrance hall has moments of drama, but is not overwhelming.

5. Staff canteen overlooks small inner court.

6. Crescent wing which gently curls into nineteenth-century setting.

7. Curved wing is intended to reflect light into middle of site ...

8. ... and is topped by a cheerful glazed ambulatory which connects ministerial reception and meeting rooms.

1. entrance

2. reception

3. hall

4. conference

5. library

6. offices/reading

7. canteen

8. offices

9. void

10. meeting

11. sauna suite