Dublin's Spire, described as an "ideologically 'Teflon' monument", is the subject of a new book by its architect, writes Frank McDonald, Environment Editor

Now that the public seems more positively disposed towards the Spire - funny how virtually no one calls it "The Spike" any more - its London-based architect, Ian Ritchie, has produced a book and DVD to celebrate the achievement.

The beautifully illustrated small-format book makes it clear that the design was developed from "personal reflections and desires", with the aim of creating an object for a unique site. "The intention of art is not to please the public," Ritchie writes.

And indeed, as he concedes, regular surveys showed that at least 70 per cent of Dubliners thought the Spire was pointless. But that was before they had seen it. When it was capped in January 2003, more than 4,000 people turned up to cheer.

Ritchie is in "I told you so" mode. "Those who objected to the scale of the Spire and to the contrast with its surroundings have had the pleasant (or uncomfortable) experience of reassessing the impact of the completed monument."

He quotes the former Lord Mayor, Cllr Dermot Lacey, at the official opening on July 7th last: "Can I make a very unprecedented admission? The people who supported this project were right and those of us who opposed it were wrong."

"Like Nelson's Pillar before it, the Spire is now a rendezvous point in the city; it does not contain public space and no one can enter it, but it is a locus for city life," Ritchie says. It also "connects ground and sky, past and future".

According to the architect, "a monument or sculpture that successfully expresses thought and feeling, angst and joy, fear and hope, can create an emotional pregnancy in the space around it that may be more potent than the object itself."

Primarily, he sees it as "an act of urbanism. It punctuates the long views in O'Connell Street and marks the termination of Henry Street and North Earl Street, arresting the urban 'leak' that merged these spaces and denied each a sense of place."

It was also intended to reflect "the light of the sky during the day and the light of urban life at night". Its surface reflects changing light conditions. It can appear very different within minutes - dull grey, soft and reflective or hard and shiny.

"The absence of overt symbolism permits a personal interpretation by the viewer," as Ritchie says. "A welcome surprise to the architects was the religious perspective that sees the Spire as a large votive candle pointing to heaven."

Unlike other monuments, the Spire does not memorialise a famous politician, poet or soldier. Suggestions that it should carry the EU's stars or the names of Irish martyrs were resisted in favour of an "ideologically 'Teflon' monument". "Because memorials are intended to eternalise an event, they have to look forward as well as back. Here there was no specific event to memorialise other than perhaps the millennium and our society's fascination with zeros," the architect concedes.

"The site demanded an acknowledgement of its history, but it also required an escape from itself, and one that embraced a more open Ireland, demonstrated by the immigration of both Irish and non-Irish \ the sense of hope that seemed to abound."

The book mentions the battle fought over its construction, which included a High Court action by one of the also-rans in the design competition and details of how it was designed and engineered, using "bespoke" components, mostly Irish-made.

Photographs show every stage of the process, from initial fabrication of the stainless steel cone in eight sections to their final assembly on the site. A full chronology is given from the destruction of Nelson's Pillar to completion of the Spire.

The polished pattern at its base "can be read as mirrored seas or lakes or, conversely, as hundreds of islands floating in a mirrored sea", Ritchie explains. It also captures images of passing buses, traffic lights changing and a child's reflection.

The book does not explain why the lighting at the tip of the Spire was changed, though there is a passing reference to the need for an aviation beacon. Certainly, the initial design promised a softer, candle-like glow rather than harsh lighting.

Andy Warhol is quoted as saying: "When I see the New York skyline, I think only of money." But Ritchie says that to change a city's skyline "with art, and not as a consequence of industry, commerce or religion, is to make a profound statement".

Inevitably, he recalls that the Eiffel Tower "only became the monument and symbol of Paris well after the event". Built as a celebration of engineering in 1889, it was universally despised at the time and nearly bankrupted Gustav Eiffel. The Spire of Dublin - translated as Túr Solais, or Monument of Light, which was its original name - has won instant public approval. Sure don't we see it every night on RTÉ, with that arresting computer-generated metamorphosis of Pillar to Spire.

• The Spire, Túr Solais, by Ian Ritchie Architects, has just been published by Categorical Books, at €15. Further information from tom@categoricalbooks.com