Part Egyptian tomb, part masonic temple, the 1930s headquarters of the Royal Institute of British Architects has always exuded a cultish air. Sited on London’s illustrious Portland Place, among embassies, consulates and oligarchs’ pieds-à-terre, it is a fittingly regal headquarters for a chartered profession that has long styled itself as an exclusive gentlemen’s club.
If you have ever been to an event there, you probably won’t have paid much attention to the dull brown mural at the back of the auditorium. It’s a dirty, poorly lit and badly scuffed screen, which tends to fade into the background of the surrounding art deco pomp. And there’s a good reason that the RIBA hasn’t wanted to you look at it too closely.
