Progressing the Clare Street project has been a nightmare for the National Gallery. Indeed, in January 1998, it suffered the ultimate indignity of having its original plan turned down on appeal by An Bord Pleanála - a quite unexpected decision that stunned everyone.
Five years ago, the gallery's board thought it was doing the right thing by holding an international architectural competition to find the best possible design for the new Millennium Wing. But it made a critical error in assuming that it could get rid of No. 5 South Leinster Street, a remnant of Georgian Dublin.
Austin Dunphy, the conservation architect who had been one of Charles Haughey's appointees to the gallery's board, had advised his colleagues that there would be no problem for such an august national institution securing planning permission, because the Georgian building was not listed for preservation.
The fact that its demolition would have turned the adjoining Tegral headquarters into a Georgian orphan on the main approach to Merrion Square was not a consideration. So the 10 firms of architects who were invited to participate in the 1996 competition were told to assume that the entire site would be cleared.
All but one of them - interestingly, Daniel Libeskind - did just that, producing an array of designs, some of them quite overblown. Libeskind's own entry, largely the work of Donegal-born Tarla MacGabhann, was the most radical, with its references to portal dolmens or perhaps even the cliffs of Moher.
What the jury was looking for was a scheme that would provide proper connections to the existing gallery, flexibility in terms of the use of new exhibition spaces, an entrance from Clare Street reflecting the civic importance of the building and good spatial quality to enhance the visitor's experience of moving through it.
Though the competition jury felt that none of the 10 entries - three Irish and seven foreign - had solved all the problems posed by what was a very complex brief, it awarded the commission to London-based Benson and Forsyth, based on the "strength, cohesion and conviction" of their "powerful three-dimensional vision".
Gordon Benson, an ascetic Scot, and Alan Forsyth, a gregarious Geordie, had been working together since they graduated in 1968. They had a reputation for integrating modern buildings within a larger historical context, informed (they say) by researching the cultural, geographical and political circumstances of each project.
When they were selected to design the National Gallery's new wing, Benson and Forsyth were already building the Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh, which opened two years later to popular and critical acclaim. And inevitably, several of the architectural devices they used there were incorporated into their scheme.
But Dublin Corporation's decision to approve it was appealed by An Taisce, the Irish Georgian Society and Uinseann MacEoin, the veteran conservationist. They argued that No. 5 South Leinster Street and its rare Regency ballroom were worth preserving and that the new building's 31-metre tower would be too obtrusive.
To everyone's utter amazement, An Bord Pleanála rejected the scheme.
In a decision taken on the casting vote of its then chairman, Paddy O'Duffy, the board ruled that both the threatened Georgian building and its ballroom to the rear were "worthy of preservation, notwithstanding mid 19th-century alterations".
The National Gallery was stunned. Raymond Keaveney, its director, described it as a huge disappointment which represented a severe setback after many years of planning. The architects could hardly believe it either - though, within days, Gordon Benson had faxed a sketch showing how the scheme could be revised.
With No. 5 South Leinster Street now spared, by order of An Bord Pleanála, Benson and Forsyth's amended plan sailed through without a single objection in July 1998. But the delay in getting it off the ground meant that the gallery ran a real risk of losing the €9.5 million in EU aid which had been pledged for the project.
Costs had spiralled way above the original estimate, pushing it towards €25.39 million, including site acquisition and professional fees. And since the Government was only chipping in £2.5 million, this posed a major challenge for the National Gallery Foundation to raise money from private donors to bridge the gap.
Questions were raised about the secrecy surrounding these donations, and it didn't help that Charles Haughey had been chairman of the foundation from 1995 to June 1998, when he resigned.
At least two members of the gallery's board had expressed their disquiet and sought full disclosure of its accounts.
Under the glare of media attention in late November 1998, notably a front-page article in The Irish Times, Carmel Naughton said: "We can't release the names . . . Ireland is a very leaky country". However, she stressed that any board member who asked for information on the foundation's accounts received it privately from her.
SUBSEQUENTLY, after what was described as a "difficult" meeting, the board issued a statement expressing its satisfaction with the "accuracy and completeness" of information given to it by Naughton, and saying that Haughey had acted at all times in "a completely proper manner" while serving as chairman of the foundation.
There were also tensions between the architects and the Office of Public Works as project managers. The OPW had carried out all previous work on the National Gallery, including the addition of a rather dreary post-modern atrium, and never fully recovered from the imposition of such "outsiders" as Benson and Forsyth.
The new wing, built by Michael McNamara and Company, was also hit by a lengthy construction workers' strike, which contributed to delaying its completion well beyond the original target date of "late 2000". But at least it will include a full list of donors, carved for posterity on a plaque of Portland stone.
All things considered, as Naughton has said, it's no wonder she now has some grey hairs on her head.
Frank McDonald