Spire for capital evokes mixture of caution, enthusiasm

`A monument," architect Raymund Ryan wrote in his essay The Monument in the City, "must merge abstract ideals with the reality of daily life." There are two impressive recent examples in England that do just that, though only one of them survives. The one that didn't is Rachel Whiteread's House, a life-size cement cast of a demolished house in London's East End. In Ryan's terms, it brilliantly monumentalised the fabric of daily life.

After a stormy initial reception, Anthony Gormley's Angel of the North, a winged metal figure adjacent to the A1 near Gateshead, has become a fondly regarded landmark. Its 65-feet height is dwarfed by Ian Ritchie's 394 tapering steel spike, and, like the Whiteread, it also differs from it in another vital respect.

The Angel, an immediately recognisable symbol of transcendence, is a very human monument with strong links to its setting. Every detail of its construction refers to the erstwhile ship-building tradition of the region while looking with hope to the future. The spike is abstract and doesn't refer directly to its setting at all.

That is a point picked up by painter and conservationist Peter Pearson. "I'm slightly uneasy about the fact that the O'Connell Street monument has no specific meaning in its own right. Perhaps that says something about Ireland and ourselves.

"Unlike the other monuments around, it's not religious, it's not military, it's not political - which is not to say that it should be any of those things, of course. But it does say something about wealth. I wonder whether in the future people might look back on it and view it as the product of a pointless society."

On the other hand, he thinks it is visually quite strong. "Like the chimneys of the Ringsend power station on Dublin Bay, it is a strong vertical accent in the city, and as such it is quite successful. It's certainly the best of the proposals put forward and I'm looking forward to seeing it built."

The director of the Irish Museum of Modern Art, Declan McGonagle, who has been involved in several public art projects, particularly likes the fact that it is forward-looking.

"I would tend to be positive about it. I like the fact that it's a very contemporary statement. It's a landmark object facing into the new millennium, rather than mimicking something that was there, or trying to recover something from the past. It's good that it counterpoints the architecture around it rather than trying to imitate it. If it turns out as cleanly as it looks in the model it will be beautiful."

Architect Ronald Tallon also likes the cleanness and modernity of the concept, but has doubts about the scale. "It's a lovely concept, simple and elegant, but it is too high. I'm very conscious of the low scale of Dublin. It wouldn't harm the concept in any way if it was half the height, and in fact the base could be slimmer if it were. Having said that, the excessive height is my only criticism of it."

Critic Brian Fallon, who has written and lectured on public sculpture, echoes this concern about height. "I wouldn't say I'm positively against it, but it doesn't seem to bear much relation to what's around it. It seems too high for its setting. It's going to be inescapable.

"One gets the feeling that it's partly an attempt to turn back the clock to a time when O'Connell Street was the centre of the city. Now the centre of gravity has shifted to the southside."

Trinity College architectural historian Edward McParland, conversely, doesn't see any conflict between the modernity of the monument and the architectural setting.

"I think it's absolutely brilliant. I really don't see a problem. Everything does depend on the fact that it is a needle, not a tower block. It's important that it should in no way be taken as setting a precedent for a tower block on George's Quay. It's a question of proportion: a narrow, tapering structure is fine, but a tower block would be shocking for the city. I think it has a lovely simplicity. It's a good sign when people say `I could have done that'."

John O'Regan of Gandon Editions, the art and architecture publishers, is more cautious.

"It's hard to discuss it not having seen a detailed model, but I would have a few concerns. One is that there is a distinction between simple and simplistic, and I'd worry that it might be simplistic.

"One problem with minimalist architectural projects is that detailing is critical, and often the buildings don't have the detailing to go with the ideas, as a result of which they don't wear well. So with the cone any imperfection is critical. There may be an assumption that it will be self-cleansing, for example, but dust and dirt build up on every surface."

O'Regan also makes a good point about the location. "Usually the rationale for those kind of very tall structures is that, placed out in dockland areas, for example, they provide a link back to the city centre. But in the city centre you simply don't need it." On the whole, though, he is in favour of the initiative.

Michael Warren, a sculptor with wide experience of large-scale public projects, is cautiously positive.

"After all, on a site like that it takes a great deal of courage to do anything at all. The French are great at taking gigantic risks, and it's easy to applaud them from afar for doing it, but of course when it's closer to home we all start to feel apprehensive."