What Makes an Icon?

At each and every Olympic Games, certain athletes perform with such virtuosity and perfection that they distinguish themselves from the rest of the field. The 1972 Summer Games of Munich were no exception. U.S. swimmer Mark Spitz accomplished the impossible by winning seven gold medals while the tiny Olga Korbut of the Soviet Union became the media starlet with her dramatic success in gymnastics. mbols. The design must feature memorable forms yet still summon unique images for each viewer. By providing these multiple and enigmatic meanings, the building achieves the status of a popular architectural icon.


After a prolonged competition, the Munich organizing committee selected the Gunter Behnisch and Partners architect firm to produce the conceptual design for the Olympic Park. The city provided three square kilometers of undeveloped municipal grounds for Olympic purposes. Formerly a dump, the land had been slated for development for some time. In all, the park was to feature four new installations while incorporating the previously existing television tower.

Following the direction of the organizing committee, the conceptual design was to be the visual antithesis of the 1936 Berlin Olympics. As previously mentioned, the organizers had to battle with Germany’s historical experience and tainted Olympic past. Hosting the Games, provided the stage to make a statement about democracy rising in West Germany. Society was ready for reform and innovation. Therefore, whereas the architecture of the Berlin Games featured imposing facades and grand squares awash in red, the Olympic Park was to embody the openness of democracy in a natural environment.

Behnisch architects were faced with the rather daunting challenge of translating these formulated principles into architecture. With the help of Frei Otto and more than 25,000 construction workers from 24 countries, their design was turned into a reality.


When walking around the park, visitors feel the openness that the organizers had hoped for. All the major installations are sculpted into the landscape, so spectators enter the stadiums from the upper rim and have an immediate view of the playing fields below. This allows the landscape to maintain a natural feel. Undoubtedly the most important feature of the conceptual design though is the roof.

Wanting to maintain the landscape principle, the architects rejected the rigid geometry of typical stadium roofs. Instead, they connected the various installations into a harmonious nexus of sport with a system of transparent tent shapes. Not without controversy, during the construction the roof was subsequent to great public debate. Many felt the extensive time commitment and high costs were not worth its novelty. Thankfully, the architects remained steadfast in their vision.

Today, visitors find that the rising silhouette of the roof mirrors the alpine panorama in the distance. Some think the roof provides a sense of flight while still others insist the tent structure makes the installations appear lighter and less imposing. No matter the interpretation, few can argue against its iconic status. According to the architects, “The roof turned out as we had all imagined it: transparent, surprising, novel, unusual.” For the city of Munich, it has had enduring success. As Wilfrid Spronk, the current General Manager of the Olympic Park, explains, “The architecture, especially the silhouette of the tent roofs, has become a symbol, a brandmark.”



Now, if I have done a proper job in this analysis, you might have had the same “ah-ha” moment that hit me a few weeks back. Should all host cities shoot for the proverbial moon with innovative architecture in the hopes of creating their own icon? Well, that is not as easy as it sounds. Let us remember the delicate balance of factors required of an icon. Unlike sports icons, there isn’t a concrete recipe for success. It is never a sure thing. Just ask star architect Frank Gehry, who has his fair share of failed icons.

If you are an architect and the city council calls on you to build a functional office building that is one thing. But when they ask you to create a popular icon that will project a positive image of the city at home and abroad, you might start you sweat. It is a challenge, both creatively and financially.

That said, the Olympic Games have become a stage for unveiling the latest attempts. Three years ago in Athens, Santiago Calatrava added steel arches and other touches to an existing stadium in the hopes of providing the boost needed to become an icon. Never to be outdone, the Chinese are in the midst of constructing their own Olympic Stadium with iconic aspirations. The Beijing National Stadium designed by Swiss architects Herzog and de Meuron, and also known as the Bird’s Nest, appears to have intriguing possibilities.

With such an intense spotlight, architectural error can have a negative impact on the enduring legacy for a host city. Organizers would be wise to take note of Montreal’s 1976 Olympic Stadium. As a result of horrendous planning and management, the stadium was a disaster. The supposedly retractable roof has never functioned properly and the inside gives off an uninviting atmosphere of a damp, concrete jungle. In the end, the stadium clouds any potential benefits from hosting for the people of Montreal.

Lastly, to return to the question I presented in the title of this entry, what makes an icon? Though definitions exist, I honestly do not think anyone can say exactly. You only know after it is finished. That may sound a bit risky, but in the case of Munich the gamble has paid substantial dividends.

Behind the 1968 Olympic Games

In October of 1963, at the International Olympic Committee (IOC) meeting in Baden-Baden, Germany, Mexico City was selected to host the XIX Summer Olympic Games. Though highly controversial due to the debate over the effects of altitude, the selection was particularly significant as Mexico represented the first Third World country to ever host the event. The choice should perhaps be regarded more as a sign of the times and less a result of unwavering merit and IOC morality. The other two serious candidate cities were Detroit, Michigan and Lyon, France – both embedded in the Cold War conflict as members of NATO. Mexico, on the other hand, was able to parlay their relative neutrality into a successful bid. According to the Mexican Organizing Committee (MOC) the success of the bid was based on the existing facilities and the noteworthy experience hosting similar events.

By June of 1966, only two years before the scheduled Games, the Organizing Committee was in shambles suffering from internal squabbling and varied ineptitude. Little had been accomplished in terms of planning and the growing criticism threatened to embarrass the rising nation and its leadership. With the resignation of the previous chairman, the MOC appointed Pedro Ramirez Vazquez, a prominent architect as the head of the committee. A man of the government system, Ramirez Vazquez was hardly a sports enthusiast and was able to play his insider-outsider status to his advantage. His rather heretical position inevitably changed the course of the Olympic planning.

Upon assuming leadership of the Organizing Committee, Ramirez Vazquez had two principal obstacles. The first was instigating the construction of the major Olympic installations in the face of financial restraints. His response was pragmatic planning steeped in moderation and grounded in its projections. Embodying this principle, he stated, “the design is not a drawing, it is a service” and, “if the Olympic installations aren’t the most beautiful in the history of the Olympic Games then by any consideration they are practical and functional.”

Looking back, the purpose of his rhetoric was not to appease Mexico’s lower class or quell student-provoked criticism of government spending as one might assume. Upon my investigation of the sites, I found that the planning and the execution were in fact carried out in a pragmatic manner. Additionally, Ramierz Vazquez had the valuable foresight to arrange the Olympic installations on vacant fields of outlying areas that would be engulfed by development years later. This has led some scholars to argue that Mexico conceived and sold the idea of a “cheap Olympics.” Though some overemphasize this notion (overlooking the comparable number of participants) it still should be dully noted. In fact, the Mexican Olympics have proved to be one of the least expensive Games since Rome in 1960 – comparable only to Los Angeles in 1984. This may though be a result of time restraints and less of free will.

The second obstacle faced by Ramirez Vazquez and the Organizing Committee was a more abstract, discursive element, one that Eric Zolov terms the “burden of representation.” Preceding the Games, the foreign press frequently mocked the “land of manana” and the paltry preparations of a lazy country (to be sure some of the criticism was well deserved as one member of the MOC once remarked, “We are not sure we can guarantee the organization of these games. But the weather will be nice”). Addressing the racialized foreign stereotypes of Mexico’s underdevelopment was necessary to accrue the intangible benefits of hosting the Games.

The Mexican economy had been booming for years and the international event was to provide a stage to validate Mexico’s cosmopolitan belonging in the developed world. According to the MOC, the Games would project an image of Mexico as a nation where economic development was coupled with social justice and modernity balanced with tradition. The government believed the opportunity to refute the popular stereotypes would not only have exceptional touristic implications, but also an important psychological impact on the Mexican township.

As Mexico was hardly a sporting powerhouse, the Organizing Committee acknowledge that the most effective way to overcome the entrenched stereotypes was with a creation and projection of an image of the Olympiad in Mexico through a Program of Olympic Identity and the organizing of a Cultural Olympiad. In the graphic design of Olympic logo we find the focal point of this initiative.

Through the flawless Mexico68 logo, the MOC was able to accomplish the projection of an image that acknowledged its unique cultural heritage without sacrificing its modern aspirations. Surprisingly, it was an American invited to participate in the design competition who was principal in creating the final design. After multiple trips to the Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City, Lance Wyman and Eduardo Terrazas came up with a design rooted in both Huichol indigenous art and the Op Art aesthetic of the day. The Mexico68 design, which blanketed the city, was a graphical feat and was cited in the book, “A History of Graphic Design” as “one of the most successful in the evolution of visual identification.”

In addition to the successful design component, one of the most original ideas of the Mexican experience was the Cultural Olympiad, which was a world in itself. In fact, Mexico was the first host country to emphasis culture as an integral aspect of the Olympic Games. It was an attempt to reunite the Olympics of sport with culture and peace. During the Olympic year, over 1,500 events were dispersed throughout the entire republic. Thus all towns benefited from the Olympic experience. For the Games themselves, Ramirez Vazquez invited the participating countries to send a cultural delegation. Each of the twenty sports were then replicated by twenty spheres of cultural activities including, dance, poetry, visual arts.



















Performances during the Games included everything from Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington to the Senegal Ballet. A fitting example of this dichotomy between sport and art was the reading by famed Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko in front of 12,000 people at the Arena of Mexico, which was used for boxing during the Olympics. He was introduced, to the delight of the crowd, in typical boxing announcing: “Esteeeeeeemed public… in thisssssss corner… at 72 kilos, standing at 184 cm... YYYYeeeeevtushenko.”

Ultimately, the Program of Olympic Identity and the Cultural Olympiad provided the Games with the ambiance of the ultimate fiesta. Streets and buildings were awash in blazing colors while the symbol of a silhouetted white dove of peace was on display, rather ironically, at every turn. One couldn’t step outside without being surrounded by the Op Art design of the Mexico68 logo, which adorned everything from dresses to large balloons. Along major avenues, newly built billboards proclaimed the official motto “Everything is Possible in Peace” in a wealth of languages while looming pyrotechnic figurines marked the site of the installations. The general message radiating from the Olympic host city was that Mexico was alive with change – a political and cultural statement to be sure.