Paris, Winter 1998

Dear Friends,

I have given a great deal of thought to your proposals in the peace of my hideaway in the mountains of the Valais. Where should I start? With Paul Klee, of course.

Silence is where this artist comes into his own: a poet of silence must spend a great deal of time reflecting on the fundamentally silent nature of the museum dedicated to his work. The work of an artist who has always been attuned to the movement around him; who lives by listening, in silence of course, listening to himself, to his own nature and to Nature.

This was the main reason why I felt so uneasy, when I visited you on Sunday, about the idea of building the museum outside the city. Today, I even think it’s a very good idea, provided the environment is properly protected, of course.

One other minor (but fundamental) point: Paul Klee lies in the cemetery just a few hundred metres from the site of the future museum.

A friend of mine (Susumu Shingu, the Japanese sculptor) was telling me recently that, the first time he came to Europe from Japan, in the 1960s, the first thing he did was to visit Paul Klee’s grave in Bern. And, in fact, it gives me pleasure to think that the work of this artist, the poet of silence, should be preserved for ever in a place of recreation, not far from the cemetery in which he lies.

This could only happen far from the noise of the city. The site needs to be extensive; and I think the work you are asking me to do must cover the whole area to the motorway bridge in the North.

As I told you, I feel the spirit of the place, of the land, lies in the gentle slope of the hill.

Working as a mapmaker, and ploughing the soil like a good farmer before donning my architect’s hat, I think we could build a “place”, away from it all, but still in the centre of things.

An architecture of the ground, first, on which we can then build an architecture of stone and clear light. And, in this clearing, I believe we can achieve this feeling of the immense and the infinite which we find in the centre of a natural place of shelter; the hills and the trees in the foreground hide those behind them. Leaving only the most distant visible, at the very edge of infinity.

A place of silence, of recuperation, of internal contemplation (the sacred), but nonetheless visible and prominent from outside, where we can feel life pulsating all around us (the profane).

And water. I think there should be water in the clearing: with that magical ability water has to be eternally changing, vibrating, doubling images, lightening things, mirroring the hazards of time. Water, Josif Broedskji said, is like time: a source of beauty.

I have also been thinking about the building itself, but it’s too soon to talk about that, and I still have some research to do into Klee’s work. I will find the design there, of that I am sure: everything is there, the town, the fields, the trees and Nature.

To summarise, I am very happy with your proposals and accept the challenge you have presented to me: above all, I feel that, in you, I have found two good travelling companions.

Renzo Piano