The former InterContinental — today Fairmont Golden Prague — is one of the buildings we particularly recommend visiting, not simply looking at from the street.

For us, it is also one of Prague’s most interesting examples of how a major Brutalist building can be brought back to life.

The extensive reconstruction, led by architect Marek Tichý and TaK Architects, preserved and restored important elements of the original building while introducing a new generation of Czech art, glass and design. Original works by artists including René Roubíček, Josef Jíra, Stanislav Libenský and others were restored, while contemporary Czech artists and glassmakers were invited to add new works to the building.

The result is particularly interesting because the hotel once again works in the spirit of a Gesamtkunstwerk — architecture, interior, furniture, lighting and art experienced together.

DMP LOOK CLOSER — BEFORE YOU EVEN ENTER

Stop underneath the main entrance and look up.

Above you is Heaven / Nebesa by Jan Kukla, a contemporary light installation made from 600 rods of metallurgical glass.

Part sculpture, part functional lighting, it creates an illuminated glass sky above the entrance.

Only then walk inside.

GO INSIDE

Unlike many buildings in this guide, the Fairmont allows you to experience the architecture from within.

You don't need to stay at the hotel to get a sense of it.

Walk into the lobby, take your time and look around — or stop for a drink at Coocoo's Nest, the lobby bar.

This is where the restoration becomes much more interesting than a simple reconstruction of a façade.

Original elements and artworks have been carefully restored, but contemporary Czech artists have also been invited to continue the story.

FIND THE HOUSE SIGNS

One of the most striking new additions is impossible to miss.

Look for the monumental glass wall House Signs of Prague by Martin Janecký.

Janecký took inspiration from the historic house signs that identified Prague buildings before modern street numbering.

The individual forms are made from opaline glass, transforming these old Prague symbols into contemporary glass sculpture.

It is a beautiful idea: a Brutalist hotel from the 1970s, reconstructed in the 21st century, containing a new artwork inspired by signs from Prague centuries earlier.

THEN LOOK FOR WHAT SURVIVED

Don't assume everything you see is new.

The hotel contains an exceptional collection of restored original artworks and design.

Look for Josef Jíra's stained-glass windows, the monumental glass works of Stanislav Libenský and Jaroslava Brychtová, and the extraordinary original chandeliers by René Roubíček.

The Roubíček chandeliers in the Grand Ballroom were restored by the studio of Jaroslav Bejvl, while sixteen original gilded light objects by Hugo Demartini were returned to the rooftop Zlatá Praha restaurant.

This dialogue between restored originals and new commissions is exactly why we recommend going inside.

DMP TIP

Don't treat Fairmont as a five-minute architecture stop.

Look up before entering. Walk through the lobby. Find Janecký's glass wall. Have a drink at the bar and spend some time looking at the art.

Then, when you visit Design Museum Prague, look at the original chair from the former InterContinental in our collection.

The hotel shows what can happen when a significant building survives and is carefully given another life.

Elsewhere in this guide — particularly with Transgas and Hotel Praha — you will see what happens when the architecture itself does not survive.

Kotva is one of Prague’s great experiments in structure.

Designed by Věra and Vladimír Machonin and opened in 1975, the department store is composed of interlocking hexagonal modules. The unusual geometry allowed an enormous retail building to fit into the irregular fabric of Prague’s historic centre.

DMP TIP — SEE IT NOW

September 2026 is actually a fascinating moment to see Kotva.

The building is undergoing a complete reconstruction, and parts of its structure that would normally remain hidden behind finished interiors are temporarily exposed.

Look through the construction site and notice the extraordinary spans between the structural supports.

The structural system allows large areas of floor to remain open without rows of additional columns interrupting the space — exactly what a department store needed.

Normally, you experience the result.

Right now, you can glimpse how it actually works.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Then step back and look at the building from outside.

Don't search for one perfect viewpoint.

Walk around Kotva.

The six-sided modules overlap and the silhouette changes as you move. What initially appears to be one massive dark building begins to break apart into a much more complex composition.

This is one of those rare moments when a reconstruction temporarily reveals something architects normally hide:

the structure behind the architecture.

Omnipol is easy to miss.

And that is precisely why we included it.

Built between 1975 and 1979 by architects Zdeněk Kuna, Zdeněk Stupka, Milan Valenta and Jaroslav Zdražil, it filled a gap left by three demolished historic houses in one of Prague's narrow central streets.

The architects faced an interesting problem:

How do you insert a large, modern office building into a street of much older houses without pretending that the new building is old?

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Stand on the opposite side of Nekázanka and look up.

The façade does something clever.

It sits slightly behind the line of the neighbouring historic façades, allowing its projecting glazed bays to move forward into the street.

Then look at the top.

The upper floors step back, reducing the apparent height of the building when viewed from the narrow street below.

And finally look down.

The ground floor is recessed too, effectively giving a little more space back to the narrow pavement.

It is a surprisingly polite building.

THE DETAIL WE LOVE

The original façade combined green-blue opal glass with bronze-anodised aluminium.

The result was not the grey concrete architecture many people imagine when they hear the word Brutalism.

Omnipol belongs to another strand of the period sometimes described as metal Brutalism.

BUT THE REAL SURPRISE WAS INSIDE

The original interiors were designed by Ladislav Vrátník, an important Czech furniture and interior designer who later became the first post-1989 rector of Prague's Academy of Arts, Architecture and Design.

And he did something wonderful.

While the architecture outside followed a strict rectangular geometry, Vrátník introduced an octagonal system inside.

The geometry appeared in the furniture, fittings and organisation of the interiors.

Outside: rectangles.

Inside: octagons.

Unfortunately, most of those original interiors have since disappeared.

DMP INSIDER NOTE

Omnipol underwent a major reconstruction between 2015 and 2017. Much of the original structural frame was retained, but the façades, layouts and technical systems were renewed and two additional floors were added.

So don't visit Omnipol expecting an untouched 1979 building.

Visit it for a different reason.

Try to understand the architectural idea that survived: how a radically modern building was made to fit into one of Prague's historic streets without disguising itself as historic architecture.

Then imagine the lost octagonal world that once existed behind the façade.

At first glance, Karel Prager's former Federal Assembly can be difficult to understand.

So here is the trick:

Look underneath it.

The building you see at street level was already here.

It is the former Prague Stock Exchange, designed by Jaroslav Rössler and completed in the 1930s. When Karel Prager, Jiří Albrecht and Jiří Kadeřábek were asked to transform and dramatically enlarge it for the Czechoslovak parliament, they did not simply demolish the old building.

They built another building above it.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Stand far enough away to see the whole composition.

First find the older stone Stock Exchange.

Then look above it.

The enormous two-storey upper volume is carried independently by a structure using Vierendeel girders — a structural principle associated with bridge engineering.

The roof of the old Stock Exchange could not carry the weight of the new extension.

So, in simple terms:

the new building had to jump over the old one.

Once you understand this, the architecture suddenly makes sense.

NOW FIND THE FOUR SUPPORTS

Look for the massive supports carrying the upper structure.

Instead of filling the old building below with new columns, Prager's team concentrated the load into an independent supporting system.

What appears to be an enormous glass-and-steel box floating above an older building is actually a remarkable piece of structural engineering.

DMP INSIDER DETAIL

Now move your attention to the glass.

The newer part of the complex used an extremely progressive structural glass façade — known at the time as a “terčová” façade, where large sheets of glass were fixed with point-like metal fittings rather than conventional frames.

It was the first application of this system in Czechoslovakia.

So there are really two experiments happening here at once:

a building suspended above another building — and a façade experimenting with how little structure glass appeared to need.

AND THERE IS ANOTHER REASON TO GO INSIDE

Today the building is part of the National Museum.

If access allows, don't stop at the façade.

The interiors were conceived with the same attention to architecture, furniture and art that interests us at Design Museum Prague.

Original elements included furniture designed by Prager, artworks and glass, sophisticated acoustic ceilings and modular interior systems.

Again, the lesson is the same:

the architecture of this period did not stop at the front door.

DMP TIP

Stand between the historic National Museum and Prager's building for a moment.

Within a very small area you can read several completely different ideas about what monumental architecture in Prague should look like.

Then look back at the Federal Assembly.

Don't ask first whether you think it is beautiful.

Ask:

How is that enormous building actually standing there?

Once you see the answer, it is difficult to look at it in the same way again.

From a distance, the New Stage can look like an enormous dark glass block.

Come closer.

The façade is actually made from more than 4,300 individual hand-blown glass elements, created in collaboration between architect Karel Prager and legendary Czech glass artist Stanislav Libenský.

The pieces were produced from special SIMAX glass at the Kavalier glassworks in Sázava.

Each weighs more than 40 kilograms.

Together, they turn an entire building into a monumental piece of Czech glass.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Don't just look at the façade straight on.

Walk towards it.

From a distance, thousands of individual pieces merge into a single crystalline surface.

As you approach, the building changes.

The façade becomes a giant three-dimensional relief and you begin to see that the individual glass elements have different profiles.

Then walk around the corner.

The building is not simply a glass box: its lower and upper edges are bevelled and the entire volume behaves almost like an enormous cut object.

NOW TURN AROUND

This is the detail we particularly like.

Look from the New Stage towards the historic National Theatre.

The relationship between the two buildings is not as accidental as it might initially appear.

The scale and module of Libenský's glass elements respond to proportions found on the historic theatre opposite.

One building speaks the architectural language of the 19th century.

The other answers it in the language of 1980s architecture and Czech glass.

They are separated by a century.

But they are having a conversation.

DMP INSIDER — WHY GLASS?

There is another reason for this extraordinary façade.

The glass skin also helped address the building's difficult location on busy Národní třída.

The sculptural outer layer forms part of a sophisticated façade composition separating the theatre from the street.

So what appears to be decoration is also connected to the building's function.

Art, architecture and engineering become the same thing.

DMP INSIDER — SEE IT DURING RECONSTRUCTION

Right now, in September 2026, the New Stage is undergoing a major two-year reconstruction.

You cannot experience the original interiors at the moment, but the building is still worth seeing from outside — and this is actually an interesting moment in its history.

The reconstruction is being carried out with respect for the building's protected architectural character. The exterior appearance will remain unchanged and Stanislav Libenský's extraordinary glass façade is being preserved and restored.

Important original elements inside — including the green serpentine cladding, spiral staircase and monumental light installation by Pavel Hlava and Jaroslav Štursa — are also being retained and restored.

So what you are looking at today is not an abandoned building.

You are watching one of Prague's most important post-war buildings being prepared for its next life.

DMP TIP

For now, experience the New Stage entirely from outside.

Stand close enough to see one of Libenský's individual glass elements.

Then step backwards until thousands of them become architecture.

And remember to come back after the reconstruction.

Beside the medieval Emmaus Monastery, three extraordinary modern structures appear to hover above a shared base.

These are Prager’s Cubes, designed by Karel Prager and Jiří Kadeřábek as part of the former Association of Design Studios complex.

Today, the complex is home to IPR Prague — the Prague Institute of Planning and Development — and CAMP, the Centre for Architecture and Metropolitan Planning, one of Prague’s most important places for exhibitions, lectures and public discussion about architecture and the future of the city.

There is something particularly fitting about that:

one of Prague’s most radical architectural experiments became the place where Prague discusses its architectural future.

And the first thing to know about the buildings themselves is:

you are looking at an unfinished idea.

Prager originally envisioned five pavilions.

Only three were built.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Don't start with the façades.

Look underneath the buildings.

The three glazed pavilions are raised above much heavier bases, creating the impression that the enormous volumes are almost floating above the landscape.

The contrast between the bold steel structure above and the heavy base below is fundamental to the architecture.

The empty space beneath and between the buildings is not leftover space.

It is part of the architecture.

NOW LOOK AT THE MONASTERY

Then turn around.

Immediately beside Prager's structures stands the much older Emmaus Monastery.

Prager did not try to make his buildings look historic.

Instead, he placed unmistakably contemporary architecture beside the monastery and allowed the contrast between the two periods to remain visible.

Old and new don't imitate each other.

They coexist.

DMP INSIDER — SEE IT DURING RECONSTRUCTION

Right now, in September 2026, the entire complex is undergoing a major reconstruction.

The work began in July 2026 and is the most extensive transformation of the complex since its completion in the 1970s.

The buildings are therefore currently closed, and CAMP has temporarily left its home at Emauzy.

But this makes the site particularly interesting to see now.

The reconstruction is intended to preserve as much of the original architecture as possible while bringing parts of the complex closer to Prager's original vision.

Original stone and ceramic surfaces, glass, anodised aluminium profiles, doors, handrails and other details are being restored or carefully replicated where possible. The lightweight exterior envelope will be replaced with a faithful reconstruction, while the steel structure itself is being extensively strengthened.

And one of Prager's unrealised ideas will finally appear:

the roof of the base will become a publicly accessible terrace.

CAMP WILL RETURN

After the reconstruction, CAMP will return to Prager’s Cubes.

The entire ground floor is planned as a public space for exhibitions, lectures, discussions and educational programmes, with the atrium connecting the different parts of the centre.

So what you see today is not the end of the building's story.

It is another chapter.

DMP TIP

For now, experience the architecture from outside.

Look at where the enormous volumes actually touch the ground.

Then look at how much of them appear not to.

And remember:

three cubes were built. Prager imagined five.

A hospital might seem like an unusual stop on an architecture tour.

This one is worth the detour.

Designed by Vratislav Růžička, Eva Růžičková and Boris Rákosník and completed in 1976, the Urology Clinic is one of the clearest examples of Brutalist architecture in Prague.

And remarkably, much of what you see is still original.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Start with the façade.

Look at the strong vertical concrete blades, then at the reddish-brown ceramic tile between them.

That colour is not accidental.

The architects were building inside Prague’s historic conservation area, surrounded by much older hospital buildings. Instead of imitating them, they used contemporary architecture while allowing the colour of the new façade to respond to the exposed brick of the neighbouring Neo-Gothic maternity hospital.

This is a recurring theme in Prague’s best post-war architecture:

contrast does not necessarily mean ignoring context.

AN ALMOST UNTOUCHED SURVIVOR

There is another reason we included this building.

The exterior has survived in remarkably authentic condition — even the original windows remain.

The public interiors have also been preserved to an unusual degree.

That makes the Urology Clinic very different from buildings such as Omnipol, where later reconstruction dramatically changed the original architecture.

Here, you can still see something remarkably close to what a visitor would have encountered in the 1970s.

DMP INSIDER — LOOK THROUGH THE ENTRANCE

There is a treasure just inside.

At the entrance stands a monumental glass sculpture depicting a family, created by Stanislav Libenský and Jaroslava Brychtová.

Yes — the same Stanislav Libenský whose glass you have already encountered on the façade of the New Stage.

But here the relationship between glass and architecture is completely different.

At the New Stage, thousands of glass elements become a building.

Here, glass becomes an artwork inside the architecture.

DMP TIP

Remember that this is not a museum.

It is still a working hospital.

Don't wander through the building looking for architectural details and always respect patients and staff.

Experience the architecture primarily from the public street.

But when you reach the entrance, look carefully.

The extraordinary thing about the Urology Clinic is not simply that it survived.

It survived with much of its original character intact.

If you think Brutalism means grey concrete, stop here.

Designed by Věra Machoninová and completed in 1984, Teplotechna is one of the smallest buildings in our guide — and one of the most colourful.

Its façade combines bright blue enamelled metal panels, green window frames and exposed concrete.

Yet there is another reason we like it.

Despite all that colour and its unmistakably modern architecture, the building fits surprisingly carefully into one of Prague's historic streets.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

First, don't look at the building.

Look at its neighbours.

Then look back at Teplotechna.

Notice that Machoninová respected the height and overall silhouette of the surrounding historic buildings, including the form of the roof.

The architecture makes absolutely no attempt to pretend that it is old.

But it still respects the street.

That is the trick.

NOW LOOK DOWN

The best detail is almost at pavement level.

Two enormous projecting bays are carried by four exposed-concrete supports.

But these are not simply structural elements.

Sculptor Miloslav Chlupáč transformed them into artworks called Plastic Patterns / Plastické vzory.

Get close.

The reliefs are surprisingly subtle.

Architecture, structure and sculpture become a single object.

DMP INSIDER — FOLLOW THE ARTIST

You have actually met Miloslav Chlupáč before.

His work also appears in the story of Prager's Cubes and the former Federal Assembly.

This is something we want you to start noticing as you follow our guide.

Prague's post-war architecture was created by a relatively interconnected world of architects, glassmakers, sculptors, furniture designers and artists.

Their work keeps reappearing.

Different building.

Different scale.

Same names.

LOOK FOR THE ORIGINAL DETAILS

Teplotechna has survived remarkably well.

The distinctive street façade retains its original character, and significant interior details have also survived — including the staircase and its green-painted metal railings.

Even original graphic details associated with the staircase have survived.

This is particularly valuable because buildings of this period often lose precisely these seemingly insignificant elements first.

A railing.

A sign.

A window.

A handle.

Individually, they may appear unimportant.

Together, they create an interior.

DMP TIP

This is not a monumental building.

That is exactly why we included it.

Stand across Ječná and find the blue façade.

Then cross the street.

Look at Chlupáč's concrete reliefs from close range.

Look for the original details.

And remember:

Brutalism can be blue and green.

You have just seen the Urology Clinic by Vratislav and Eva Růžička.

Now walk a few minutes and see what happens when the same architects are given a completely different task:

design a building from which Prague can be controlled.

The Central Dispatch Centre was built in the 1970s, at the same time Prague was creating an entirely new transport system.

The building entered partial operation in 1978, four years after the first section of Prague Metro Line C opened.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

From Na Bojišti, the building is imposing.

But strangely, you still don't understand how enormous it actually is.

That was partly intentional.

The complex is composed of three interconnected volumes, with the largest and tallest section set back from the street.

Now try to find the building later from a distant viewpoint across Prague.

Suddenly the scale becomes obvious.

The enormous black tower rises far above the surrounding historic city.

WHAT IS ACTUALLY INSIDE?

This is where the architecture becomes much more interesting.

That black tower is not simply an office building.

Different parts of the complex were designed around the systems needed to manage Prague's transport network.

Control centres associated with the metro, trams and buses have been housed here, alongside traffic-management functions including tunnel operations and traffic police.

In other words:

while millions of people move through Prague, part of the city is watching and coordinating that movement from inside this building.

DMP LOOK CLOSER — THE BLACK SKIN

Now look at the façade.

Don't read it simply as a flat black surface.

The building is wrapped in strongly modelled black sheet-metal elements known as Royal panels.

Light and shadow give the dark façade depth.

Behind that skin is a steel structural frame, while the four underground levels are constructed in reinforced concrete.

Once again, what appears to be a heavy Brutalist object is structurally more complicated than it first seems.

DMP INSIDER — YOU HAVE MET THESE PEOPLE BEFORE

There is another connection hidden inside.

In the publicly accessible ground-floor area is a glass artwork by Stanislav Libenský and Jaroslava Brychtová.

Recognise the names?

You encountered their work at the Urology Clinic.

And Libenský's glass transformed the entire façade of the New Stage.

This is one of the pleasures of following Prague through this guide.

The same architects and artists keep appearing.

Růžička. Libenský. Brychtová. Prager. Machoninová.

By now, you are beginning to recognise the cast.

A BUILDING PRAGUE ARGUED ABOUT

We shouldn't pretend everyone loved it.

The building's enormous scale and its impact on Prague's historic skyline were controversial from the beginning.

Six older residential buildings disappeared to make space for the complex, and architectural historians have criticised the way its height and mass affect the surrounding conservation area and distant views of Prague.

That controversy is part of its story.

Up close, the architects tried to reduce its apparent scale by stepping the largest volume away from the street.

From far away, there is nowhere for it to hide.

DMP TIP

See this building twice.

First, stand directly in front of it on Na Bojišti.

Look at the black metal façade and try to understand the three interlocking volumes.

Then, later in your Prague trip, find it again from a distant viewpoint.

Up close, it belongs to a street.

From afar, it belongs to Prague's skyline.

And somewhere behind that black façade, the city is moving.

To understand Folimanka, you need to look at it from two completely different places.

Architect Jiří Siegel designed the basketball hall in the 1970s as part of the transformation of the valley after the construction of Nusle Bridge.

Its square plan rises into the form of a truncated pyramid, wrapped in dark glass and black slate.

From the park, it looks almost like a dark object placed in the landscape.

But there is a reason for its unusual shape.

DMP INSIDER — LOOK DOWN

Before or after visiting the hall, look at it from Nusle Bridge.

Siegel knew that thousands of people would see his building from approximately 40 metres above.

So the architecture was conceived to work from above as well as from ground level.

From the park, you experience a dark, sloping volume.

From the bridge, its geometry suddenly becomes much clearer.

The building was designed for two viewpoints at once.

DMP LOOK CLOSER — FIND THE OWL

Now go back down to the building.

Look for the orange owl on the exterior.

It isn't a random sports-club logo added later.

Artist and graphic designer Karel Pekárek created the owl as part of the original building and also designed its orientation and information system.

Architecture and graphic design were conceived together.

This is exactly the kind of detail we look for at Design Museum Prague.

THEN FIND THE BASKETBALL PLAYER

Before entering, look for the monumental figure standing beside the hall.

Basketball Player / Soustředění by sculptor Zdeněk Němeček dates from 1977.

And it isn't the only artwork around Folimanka.

The development of the park and sports complex brought architecture, landscape and public sculpture together as parts of one environment.

Don't treat the artworks as decorations added after the architecture.

They belong to the same story.

IF YOU CAN GO INSIDE

Folimanka is still doing exactly what it was designed to do:

it is a working sports hall.

Basketball is still played here.

And unusually, a number of original architectural details have survived inside, including staircases, seating, lighting and ceiling elements.

The rhythm of the slightly inclined steel structure that gives the exterior its shape continues into the interior.

If there is public access for a game or event, this is the best way to experience it.

DMP TIP

See Folimanka twice.

First from above.

Look down from Nusle Bridge and understand the geometry.

Then go down into the park.

Find the black building.

Find Pekárek's orange owl.

Find Němeček's basketball player.

And look back up at the enormous bridge above you.

The hall was not designed as an isolated object.

It was designed as part of this entire landscape.

You will probably have an immediate reaction to this building.

That is part of the experience.

Karel Prager designed the bank in the late 1970s, although it was not completed until 1992.

Its form is extraordinary: an eight-sided truncated pyramid, clad in ceramic material, with two levels of regularly arranged windows protected behind an outer glass layer.

Prague gave it a nickname:

The Bunker.

But here is the interesting part.

That is remarkably close to what Prager intended.

DMP INSIDER — A TEMPLE FOR MONEY

Prager conceived the bank almost as a fortress for money.

The architecture was supposed to communicate protection, solidity and security.

So don't look at the building and ask why a bank ended up looking like a bunker.

That was the idea.

The architecture tells you what happens inside.

Money is stored here.

And it is protected.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Stand on the opposite corner of Štefánikova and V Botanice.

First look at the overall silhouette.

It isn't a conventional box.

The walls slope inward, creating the form of a truncated pyramid on an octagonal plan.

Then look at the windows.

They appear almost like openings cut into a protective shell.

Now walk around it.

The building changes dramatically as you move because you are never looking at a simple four-sided volume.

NOW LOOK AROUND THE BANK

This is the most important part.

Don't look at the bank as an isolated building.

Look at the strange pieces of city around it.

Prager imagined something much larger here.

The bank was intended as part of an ambitious proposal for the radical redevelopment of this part of Smíchov.

Most of that vision was never realised.

What survived were essentially fragments — the bank and the neighbouring residential buildings.

Suddenly the bank begins to make more sense.

What today appears to be a strange object dropped into an older neighbourhood was originally conceived as part of a different city that was never built.

DMP TIP

Try a simple experiment.

First photograph only the bank.

It looks like a complete architectural object.

Then step back and photograph the bank together with the surrounding streets and buildings.

Now it looks completely different.

You are no longer looking only at architecture.

You are looking at a fragment of an unrealised Prague.

And don't leave yet.

The two neighbouring residential buildings are our next stop.

After looking at Prager’s extraordinary bank, don’t leave yet.

Turn around and look at the neighbouring residential buildings.

They are much easier to overlook.

And that is precisely why they matter.

The bank was not conceived as a strange architectural object standing alone in Smíchov. It belonged to Karel Prager’s much larger vision for the transformation of this part of the city.

Most of that vision was never realised.

What you see here are fragments of it.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Compare the buildings.

First look at the bank.

Heavy. Defensive. Monumental.

Then look at the housing beside it.

Windows. Balconies. Entrances. Homes.

The architectural problem has completely changed.

How do you take ideas developed at the scale of a monumental institution and bring them back to the scale of everyday life?

That contrast is what makes this little group worth seeing together.

DMP INSIDER — LOOK AT THE CITY AROUND THEM

Now forget the individual buildings for a moment.

Stand at the corner of Štefánikova and V Botanice and look around.

Older Smíchov.

Prager’s bank.

The residential buildings.

Portheimka.

Empty and subsequently redeveloped plots.

What appears today to be a slightly strange collection of unrelated buildings makes more sense once you know that Prager imagined a much more radical transformation of this area.

You are standing inside the remains of an architectural idea that was never completed.

ONE MORE PRAGER DETAIL

There is a nice continuation of the story nearby.

Prager founded Atelier GAMA in 1966, and the architectural studio that grew from it still exists today.

Its Smíchov address?

Štefánikova 25.

So more than half a century later, the GAMA name is still present in the same part of Prague.

DMP TIP

Don't make the residential buildings another pin on your map.

Treat the whole area as one stop.

Walk around the bank.

Cross the street.

Look at the housing.

Then stop and look at the gaps between everything.

Here, the most interesting architecture is partly imaginary:

the Prague that Prager wanted to build, but never did.

You have already seen Kotva.

Later in this guide, you will see DBK.

Now there is a much more intimate way to understand Věra and Vladimír Machonin:

see the house they designed for themselves.

The couple designed their family home in 1968, although it was not completed until 1978.

And there is something wonderful about it.

They did not leave their architectural ideas at work.

They lived in them.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

From the street, the house initially appears almost like a simple metal cube sitting high above the steep landscape.

Look more carefully.

The familiar Machonin palette begins to appear:

rust-coloured metal.
Red window frames.
Blue ceramic surfaces.
Long bands of glass.

If you have already visited Kotva, some of this should feel strangely familiar.

The Machonins' granddaughter Marie Kordovská, who grew up here, has even described the house as a kind of “mini Kotva.”

DMP INSIDER — LOOK AT THE STRUCTURE

There is something unusual hidden behind that appearance.

The house has a steel structure.

That is highly unusual for a family home.

But it gave the Machonins freedom.

With the load carried by the steel frame, they could create long horizontal bands of glazing and organise the interior more freely than would have been possible with conventional load-bearing walls.

This is an important clue to understanding their architecture.

What looks heavy from outside can actually be surprisingly light in construction.

NOW LOOK AT THE HILL

The location matters.

The house sits on a very steep site above the edge of the Kinský Garden.

Rather than spreading across the landscape, the main volume is raised above terraces and retaining walls.

From the city side, the two levels are strongly glazed.

Towards the slope, the building becomes more complicated.

The apparently simple cube opens up, the roof forms change and an internal atrium brings daylight deeper into the house.

So the building has two personalities.

From one direction:

a strict metal cube.

From another:

a much more complicated house responding to the hill, light and privacy.

THE MACHONIN SIGNATURE

Look again at the weathered metal skin.

You will meet this material repeatedly in the Machonins' work.

At DBK, they used weathering steel on a monumental commercial building.

At Kotva, dark metal became part of the identity of a department store.

Here, the same architectural language becomes domestic.

This is why we included a private house in our guide.

It allows you to compare what architects designed for thousands of strangers with what they chose for themselves.

DMP TIP

Please remember:

this is still a private home.

Do not enter the property, approach the windows or disturb its residents.

Everything we want you to understand can be seen from public space.

Look at the metal.

Find the red windows.

Find the blue ceramic surfaces.

Then think back to Kotva.

Later, when you reach DBK, look for the family resemblance again.

Public architecture. Commercial architecture. A family home.

Same architects. Same language. Three completely different scales.

Prague architecture has many unofficial names.

This may be one of the best.

The Cow and the Calf — Kráva a tele.

Centrotex consists of two interconnected office buildings designed by Václav Hilský and Otakar Jurenka and completed in 1978.

The larger tower rises to approximately 74 metres.

Beside it stands a much smaller version.

Cow.

Calf.

DMP LOOK CLOSER

Don't look only at the tall building.

Find the smaller one.

Then find the bridge connecting them.

The smaller building is essentially a lower relative of the larger tower, repeating much of its architectural language at a different scale.

Once you see the pair together, the nickname suddenly makes sense.

NOW LOOK AT THE ROOF

There may be another reason Prague started talking about cows.

Look at the enormous sculptural concrete structures crowning both buildings.

They hide very practical things:

air-conditioning equipment and elevator machinery.

But instead of disguising the technical infrastructure behind an anonymous box, the architects turned it into part of the silhouette.

The raised corners resemble enormous horns.

Suddenly:

Cow and Calf makes even more sense.

DMP INSIDER — LOOK AT THE FAÇADE

Now come closer.

The building is wrapped in anodised aluminium with strong vertical sunshades.

These are not simply decorative stripes.

They help control sunlight entering the offices.

Then look at the lower floors.

They project beyond the main body of the building, giving the enormous tower a surprisingly complicated profile.

Again, something that looks simple from far away becomes much richer when you approach it.

THERE WAS FASHION INSIDE

Centrotex was not an ordinary office building.

It was headquarters for the state foreign-trade company responsible for Czechoslovak textile exports and imports.

That function shaped the interior.

The building contained showrooms for knitwear, clothing, carpets, upholstery fabrics, wool and cotton.

The smaller building included a dining hall, buffet and multipurpose space that could be connected together and used for fashion shows.

So behind this enormous metal façade, Czechoslovak textiles were being presented to the world.

AND ROOM-SIZED COMPUTERS

There is another wonderful contrast.

While textiles and fashion occupied part of the complex, a substantial part of the ground floor was originally occupied by room-sized computers.

Fashion.

Foreign trade.

Economic planning.

Computers.

All inside one enormous architectural machine.

NOW LOOK DOWN

Centrotex wasn't designed independently from what was happening beneath it.

The complex was developed together with Pražského povstání metro station.

Part of the building's base actually sits above the station, requiring a lighter steel structure to reduce the load placed on the metro below.

Nearby, you can also find the large concrete ventilation structure belonging to the underground system.

So this architecture continues beneath your feet.

DMP TIP

The best way to understand Centrotex is to change scale.

From far away: find the Cow and the Calf.

From closer: find the bridge connecting them.

Look up: find the concrete horns.

Look at the façade: find the aluminium sunshades.

Then look down: remember that the metro is directly underneath you.

What first appears to be a pair of enormous office buildings is actually a much more complicated machine connecting architecture, infrastructure, technology and design.

We saved this building for last for a reason.

For Design Museum Prague, DBK may be one of the best buildings in Prague for understanding what architecture and design meant to Věra Machoninová.

She didn't simply design a building.

She worked from the scale of the city...

all the way down to the chair.

THIS WAS A HOUSE FOR DESIGN

DBK — Dům bytové kultury, or House of Interior Culture — opened in 1981.

It was conceived as an enormous specialised department store for furniture, interiors and everything connected with modern living.

This wasn't simply somewhere to buy a table.

Large exhibition areas allowed customers to see furniture and home accessories properly displayed. The building also contained customer services, a restaurant, café, cinema and even a department of interior architects.

People could come here not only to buy furniture.

They could come here to imagine how they wanted to live.

DMP LOOK CLOSER — START OUTSIDE

You have seen this material before.

The enormous dark exterior is clad in Atmofix, a Czechoslovak weathering steel designed to develop its own protective patina.

Remember the Machonins' private house?

Remember Kotva?

Here, that fascination with metal reaches an enormous scale.

But then notice the interruptions.

Red window frames.

And three huge cylindrical concrete staircases pushing through the metal skin.

The exterior is telling you something about what happens inside.

NOW GO INSIDE

Unlike several buildings in this guide, DBK is still a shopping centre and you can walk inside.

Do it.

Don't concentrate on the shops.

Go towards the centre of the building and find the enormous atrium.

This is where Machoninová's architectural idea becomes clear.

The building is effectively divided into two halves offset vertically by half a floor, connected through a dramatic central space and escalators.

Look up.

The atrium rises approximately 18 metres.

The architecture was designed around movement:

people travelling upwards, crossing between levels and continuously seeing other parts of the building.

DMP INSIDER — IMAGINE EVERYTHING RED

Now you need to use your imagination.

Originally, the interior looked very different.

Red dominated almost everything.

The escalators formed a sculptural red composition.

The balustrades were red.

Above them was an extraordinary undulating red-stained ceiling.

Dark green provided a counterpoint.

Furniture designed specifically for the building completed the environment.

Architecture, colour, graphics, furniture and movement were conceived together.

Today, much of that original interior has disappeared or been altered.

But the spatial idea survives.

Stand in the atrium and mentally put the colour back.

FROM THE BUILDING TO THE CHAIR

This is perhaps the most important detail for us.

Věra Machoninová did not stop when the architectural drawings were finished.

She also designed furniture for her buildings.

DBK therefore existed across radically different scales:

Budějovické náměstí.
The metro.
The building.
The atrium.
The staircase.
The interior.
The furniture.
The chair.

Machoninová herself described DBK as a particularly important project because it allowed her to work across this entire spectrum.

That is also why this building belongs in a guide made by a design museum.

A STRANGE AFTERLIFE

There is another wonderful chapter in DBK's history.

In 1991, part of the building became the first IKEA store in Czechoslovakia.

Think about that for a moment.

A building created as a socialist-era palace for furniture and modern domestic culture became the country's first home for one of the world's most recognisable furniture retailers.

The political and economic system changed completely.

The building was still selling people ideas about how to live.

WHAT WAS LOST

Not everything survived.

A major reconstruction in the 1990s removed much of the original interior equipment, and later alterations transformed DBK into the shopping centre you see today.

So this is not a perfectly preserved 1981 interior.

Don't pretend that it is.

Instead, look for the surviving architectural idea beneath the later layers.

The enormous central space.

The half-levels.

The relationship between escalators and floors.

The concrete stair towers.

The weathering-steel skin.

DMP TIP

Spend five minutes outside.

Then go inside.

Find the atrium.

Look up.

Move between the half-levels.

Then imagine the entire space in deep red and dark green, filled with furniture designed as part of the architecture.

Finally, go back outside and look at the building again.

You have now followed Věra Machoninová in the opposite direction:

from the chair, through the interior, through the building, back into the city.

That is exactly where architecture becomes design.