Mediterranean hotels: timeless classics and overlooked gems from the 1960s

In part to re-orientate the flows of tourists directed to Spain, the French government plans the construction of 8 new towns and the related infrastructural system on the wild, marshy coast of Languedoc-Roussillon. The shore between Montpellier and Perpignan is bound to transform into a less expensive, better planned alternative to the high-end urban sprawl of the Côte d’Azur. This long-term project is just partially realized, its most impressive episode being the seaside town of La Grande Motte, designed by Jean Balladur as a field of snow-white, massive pyramids for tourists.

The late 1950s mark the start of the construction of the highway which will connect Genoa to the French border. The Riviera di Ponente suddenly becomes more accessible to tourists, especially those coming from the Po Valley, and large scale working sites open up all along the coast. Pierino Tizzoni commissions Mario Galvagni the key-in-hand design (from the general plan to the single buildings and the urban furniture) of the hill of Torre del Mare. Galvagni builds several villas, but also the stunning sequence of beehive-shaped collective houses. They are embedded in the cliff, making it a fully man-made slope, an artificial geometry facing the natural reefs of the Bergeggi island.

The Gargano area is still an untouched territory, one yet to be discovered by tourists, when Marcello d’Olivo starts the construction of the tourist center in Manacore. According to the original project, Manacore was supposed to host more than 20 thousand visitors. Here, amongst many wonders, they would also find a “a port lake, which will be accessible from the sea 'through' a mountain, pierced by a gigantic cave (…) so high that sailing ships can cross it”. Few fragments of this ambitious scheme are actually realized, such as the Gusmay hotel, which reveals some solutions, later to be adopted in the most famous Zipser hotel in Grado (1960-1964).

The Gargano area is still an untouched territory, one yet to be discovered by tourists, when Marcello d’Olivo starts the construction of the tourist center in Manacore. According to the original project, Manacore was supposed to host more than 20 thousand visitors. Here, amongst many wonders, they would also find a “a port lake, which will be accessible from the sea 'through' a mountain, pierced by a gigantic cave (…) so high that sailing ships can cross it”. Few fragments of this ambitious scheme are actually realized, such as the Gusmay hotel, which reveals some solutions, later to be adopted in the most famous Zipser hotel in Grado (1960-1964).

José Antoni Coderch and Manuel Valls are amongst the most active architects in the trasformation of the Catalan Costa Brava into a tourist destination. The duo author several villas, and at least one large scale, unrealised project for the development of Torre Valentina. In the pages of Domus, Gio Ponti describes this high-density operation, whose language is anything but vernacular, in very positive terms: “I prefer this straightforward statement, which is active, creative, with all its dangers, to the mystification of a rebuilt landscape, with all its deceptions that are not only formal, but also social, vital, and environmental”.

On few occasions Gio Ponti’s research on the use of ceramics in architecture and the vocation of a specific building have matched so masterfully as in the case of Sorrento’s Parco dei Principi hotel. The 27 motives elaborated by Ponti, sharing the same three-color palette, are probably the most sophisticated interpretation ever provided on the topic of the seaside “style”. Between 1999 and 2004, the hotel underwent a conservative restoration, under the supervision of Naples-based architect Fabrizio Mautone.

On few occasions Gio Ponti’s research on the use of ceramics in architecture and the vocation of a specific building have matched so masterfully as in the case of Sorrento’s Parco dei Principi hotel. The 27 motives elaborated by Ponti, sharing the same three-color palette, are probably the most sophisticated interpretation ever provided on the topic of the seaside “style”. Between 1999 and 2004, the hotel underwent a conservative restoration, under the supervision of Naples-based architect Fabrizio Mautone.

Madera is still a truly remote place in the early 1960s, when its airport is open to the public. Domus explains that this infrastructural change results in the realization, “in haste”, of a hotel in the vicinities of Porto Santo. The magazine’s editors also underline how “the construction of the building on the island was a real issue, due to the lack of both building materials and skilled labour. That is why a prefabrication system was adopted, using ready-made elements to be assembled on site”. An interesting feature of the hotel is the use of wickerwork panels, by local craftsmen, to screen the rooms’ terraces.

Madera is still a truly remote place in the early 1960s, when its airport is open to the public. Domus explains that this infrastructural change results in the realization, “in haste”, of a hotel in the vicinities of Porto Santo. The magazine’s editors also underline how “the construction of the building on the island was a real issue, due to the lack of both building materials and skilled labour. That is why a prefabrication system was adopted, using ready-made elements to be assembled on site”. An interesting feature of the hotel is the use of wickerwork panels, by local craftsmen, to screen the rooms’ terraces.

Over the first years of its touristic colonization, Sardinia was interpreted by many architects who worked there as a land with no architectural tradition. “While elsewhere we have always felt history behind, in Sardinia we rather feel some sort of pre-history, or even better: man is nowhere to be found, nor is the passing of time”. These are the words of Giovanna Polo Pericoli, who realizes with her husband Giancarlo Polo the Abi d’Oru hotel, nearby Olbia. The building’s most interesting feature is the large tile roof, shaped in several pitches, which dialogues with the landscape, without completely blendind into it.

Over the first years of its touristic colonization, Sardinia was interpreted by many architects who worked there as a land with no architectural tradition. “While elsewhere we have always felt history behind, in Sardinia we rather feel some sort of pre-history, or even better: man is nowhere to be found, nor is the passing of time”. These are the words of Giovanna Polo Pericoli, who realizes with her husband Giancarlo Polo the Abi d’Oru hotel, nearby Olbia. The building’s most interesting feature is the large tile roof, shaped in several pitches, which dialogues with the landscape, without completely blendind into it.

In part to re-orientate the flows of tourists directed to Spain, the French government plans the construction of 8 new towns and the related infrastructural system on the wild, marshy coast of Languedoc-Roussillon. The shore between Montpellier and Perpignan is bound to transform into a less expensive, better planned alternative to the high-end urban sprawl of the Côte d’Azur. This long-term project is just partially realized, its most impressive episode being the seaside town of La Grande Motte, designed by Jean Balladur as a field of snow-white, massive pyramids for tourists.

“This architecture stems from the repetition of the same elements (…). The room are independent but identical, and they all open towards the sea”. These are the words used by Domus’s editors to describe the hotel completed by Coderch e Valls in Palma de Mallorca, in 1965. Their attitude is typical of an age when the joy of the collective enterprise (the holiday by the sea) has yet to be replaced by the discomfort caused by the anonymization of the spaces where it takes place (the hotel rooms standardized as social housing dwellings).

“This architecture stems from the repetition of the same elements (…). The room are independent but identical, and they all open towards the sea”. These are the words used by Domus’s editors to describe the hotel completed by Coderch e Valls in Palma de Mallorca, in 1965. Their attitude is typical of an age when the joy of the collective enterprise (the holiday by the sea) has yet to be replaced by the discomfort caused by the anonymization of the spaces where it takes place (the hotel rooms standardized as social housing dwellings).

Tel Aviv’s Hilton hotel is a massive, 14 stories high bar, perpendicular to the city’s coast. Designed in the mid-1960s by Rechter Zahry, the building is now a beloved icon. While its shapes and materials are vaguely brutalist, the overall impression is certainly one of a brutal architecture: for its scale, its location inside a public park, and the way it imposes, rather than proposes itself as a memorable landmark.

Milanese firm Monti GPA makes a rare appearance in Southern Italy to design a “holiday fort” on the coasts of Gargano. Originally intended for the employees of Enrico Mattei’s SNAM, the village belongs in its own right to the genealogy of seaside bunkers, introverted and compact holiday architectures, which nestle into the landscape rather than blending into it. A good example of this typology is Cini Boeri’s Bunker house at La Maddalena, completed just two years before the complex in Pugnochiuso.

Milanese firm Monti GPA makes a rare appearance in Southern Italy to design a “holiday fort” on the coasts of Gargano. Originally intended for the employees of Enrico Mattei’s SNAM, the village belongs in its own right to the genealogy of seaside bunkers, introverted and compact holiday architectures, which nestle into the landscape rather than blending into it. A good example of this typology is Cini Boeri’s Bunker house at La Maddalena, completed just two years before the complex in Pugnochiuso.