Architectural Insertions: Building into the Historic Fabric

C3 Magazine, No 366 (ISSN 20925190) Preface Building into the historic fabric has largely become one of the principal challenges of contemporary architecture. Unshackled from the messianic promises of Modernism and its large-scale programs of substitution of the ‘old’ with a cleansed a-chronic ‘new’, societies and architects alike stand emancipated against their own built legacy. Since the ‘90s, the same applies to the preservationist fixations that see heritage in the terms of artifacts maintained as lifeless testaments of their past1. In itself, the idea of heritage brings forth one of the most fundamental aspects in mankind’s endeavor for self-preservation and evolution, namely to preserve human values and memory. In these terms, safeguarding heritage becomes an act of responsibility involving equally an ethical stance, normative policy, and technical expertise. Nevertheless ‘cultural heritage’ is hardly exhausted as a mere catalog of artifacts that show ‘outstanding universal value’2, mainly because culture itself is embedded and evolving in the fabric of everyday practices and the living memory of the community. The act of building in such context becomes case-specific, taking into account the esthetic and cultural valuations of the setting, as well as the preservation and empowerment of an ecosystem of human production. As such, it reflects both social bonds and the trace of an accumulated intellect. The problem ultimately becomes a call for ‘good practices’, informed by an elevated awareness of our individual and collective responsibilities. Once we deem it ‘architecture’, it becomes an almost Herculean task since all new proposals must stand their place from a glorified past that sometimes stretches to the point of myth. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Insertions (building into the historic fabric) By Angelos Psilopoulos "Cities are dynamic organisms. There is not a single ‘historic’ city in the world that has retained its ‘original’ character: the concept is a moving target, destined to change with society itself."3 In these few lines, all of our architectural preoccupations unfold into play, yet they unfold by bringing forth the idea of a living breathing ever-evolving continuity of human production. Cities stand as gradual accumulations of a collective intellect, invested with the potential for people to fulfill their aspirations as individuals as well as in society. This accumulation also acts as a vessel for human memory and values, carrying layers of the past into the future as a point of reference for further additions. The problem space for such a context is that any propositions about what to do articulate in the present tense. Architects stand to confront issues that evade rigid definitions, thus seeking to establish firm foundations on slippery grounds. Should our trade had the benefit of undisputable solutions, building production of this sort would hardly raise any opposition. Then again, it would also hardly qualify as architecture, since what we fundamentally expect of it is to push the envelope further. Architects renegotiate their limits and boundaries, and offer propositions of artistic merit that ultimately have the potential to become part of the culture themselves. As such, the problem of architecture is to define the value that is to be preserved, to achieve terms of coherence or suitability with its surroundings, and to allow for the aspirations and capacity of the community attached to it to flourish and thrive. This calls primarily for heightened sensitivity. In the words of Susan Macdonald, 1 ‘UNESCO World Heritage Centre - Global Strategy’ <http://whc.unesco.org/en/globalstrategy#efforts> [accessed 23 September 2014]. 2 ‘UNESCO World Heritage Centre - The Criteria for Selection’ <http://whc.unesco.org/en/criteria/> [accessed 15 October 2014]. 3 UNESCO World Heritage Centre, ‘New Life for Historic Cities: The Historic Urban Landscape Approach Explained’ (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 2013), p. 24 <http://whc.unesco.org/document/123570> [accessed 3 January 2015]. "[m]ost successful new buildings designed in a valued historic context inevitably rely on an understanding of, and then response to, the special character and qualities of the context. As with any conservation work, understanding significance of the place is crucial. Also (…) it is case specific. A city center with an architecturally unified city core may need a different approach than one that has a variety of architectural forms, scales, and expressions. In an urban settlement that continues to sustain traditional craft and building techniques and materials, it may be extremely important to promote the continuation of these practices."4 Come the time to pass judgment, choosing between homogeneity, historical continuity, break with tradition, symbiosis, juxtaposition or integration, becomes a point of fiery discourse. It is fair to say - and in fact expert consulting bodies on the subject5 agree - that there is a strong element of subjective taste that sways final judgment away from universal consensus; the act of building in such a context consequently becomes a very challenging task. This is even more evident once we take into account the pressure that a project must sustain (a) from vested financial interest and (b) from a glorified -and even mythically chargedpast. The final drop in the bucket comes from the aspiring architecture itself, as the contemporary break with the hierarchy of building substitutes long-term value with attention-grabbing events and soothing iconography with stimulating icons6. As always, our inquiry becomes invested with dualities: coherence vs. singularity, context vs. contrast, heritage vs. novelty. Given the circumstances, it seems that any contemporary architectural proposition necessarily entails a position within this spectrum. Better yet, it acts in its right as a statement of intention towards an ongoing debate, making a case for its very validity as a worthy addition to the collective memory. The buildings we examine in this article, are evident examples of this argument. The Foundation Jérôme Seydoux-Pathé is a building that takes the place of Pathé’s old theater built in the interior courtyard of a Parisian city block. In a series of fundamental architectural gestures it reinstates a certain balance, allowing for the air, light and free space to enter in the previously dense space. As much as it accommodates its own functional program it also offers its neighbors with elemental qualities such as the relief of density within the area that it occupies or the generous re-articulation of interior views. Seen from the street, it looks as if it emerges ‘from within’, more immaterial than material, more essence than substance. Behind the heritage facade sculpted by a young Rodin, RPBW offer a new pulsating heart to breathe life into the stone shell. This is the privilege of an architecture unshackled by form, and, at the same time, invested with the necessary technology and insight to harness the abstract. The Saw Swee Hawk Student Center at the London School of Economics tackles, first and foremost, the difficult task to develop space in a dense, as well as historically charged, site. By program, it is a multi-functional building which must incorporate a significant number of facilities accommodating the necessities of everyday student life. The site itself is restricted to the surrounding building lines, narrow views, limited space, and diverse stylistic references. In response to the challenge, Architects O'Donnell +Tuomey bring forth two significant design strategies: the thoughtful folding and subsequent unfolding of space in order to maximize its potential, and the creative use of materials answering interpretatively to the character of the existing settlement. The result is ‘tailored to lines of sight, to be viewed from street corner perspectives and to make visual connections between internal and external circulation’. It is a building perceived -and in fact experienced- through a series of carefully choreographed vantage points, transcending the limitations of the available space. The Seona Reid building by Stephen Hall Architects aims to stand, by its own statement, as a ‘complementary contrast’ to Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s 1909 Glasgow School of Art building – if anything a reference masterpiece in the History of Architecture. As such, the new building looks, first and foremost, to establish its own presence against a culturally sanctioned counterpart. This confident juxtaposition has 4 Susan Macdonald, ‘Contemporary Architecture in Historic Urban Environments’, Conservation Perspectives, The GCI Newsletter; Newsletter 26.2, 2011 <http://www.getty.edu/conservation/publications_resources/newsletters/26_2/contemporary.html> [accessed 3 January 2015]. 5 Such as English Heritage and CABE; See ‘The BiC Toolkit | Building In Context’ <http://www.building-in-context.org/the-bictoolkit/> [accessed 3 January 2015]. 6 Charles Jencks, ‘The Iconic Building Is Here to Stay’, City, 10 (2006), 3–20 <http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/13604810600594605>. ignited fiery discourse7, sometimes forgetting that the new building is taking the place of a ‘rather shabby’ brutalist predecessor8. The building uses materials and form in an almost per-case counterbalance to Mackintosh’s design language. A heavy concrete shell is cut cross-section by what SHA partner James McAvoy deems as ‘driven voids of light’ – tubular voids that intersect function and space with a poetic inbetween. A continuous surface of milky green glass ‘picking up the light’ from the sky of Glasgow seeks to establish lightness against Mackintosh’s gravitas, while the concrete interior counterbalances the airy and slender framework of the 1909 building. As Stephen Hall puts it in an interview with Oliver Wainwright, “[w]e made it easy by doing the opposite of everything Mack did”9. All of these efforts stand in testament that the past is hardly frozen in time, and that functions and needs must still be serviced in existing settlements. They also reveal the agony of the present to establish its place towards a future past. In her assessment, Susan Macdonald presents us with two general approaches to design: “In recent times, in reaction to modern interventions, some architects have chosen to continue to design buildings in a more historical style while nevertheless utilizing modern materials and technologies. Others abhor historicism and argue that each generation should represent its own time. New layers should represent the ideas, technology, materials, and architectural language of each generation. Pastiche is a dirty word."10 In both cases, contemporary architecture is critically confronted with its own presence. Subsequently it is also confronted with its own vanity. Jencks11 showcases an era where the hierarchical order of building has been disrupted by ‘enigmatic signifiers’, referring to a-symbolic constructions in stark contrast to the monument and its confident place in a hierarchy of symbolism necessarily amounting to a coherent whole (e.g., the city). The problem is, as he states quoting Chesterton, that “when people stop believing in God, they don’t believe in nothing - they believe in anything”12. Today any building can aspire to assume that role, including the ones that look back to the past for stylistic reference and validity. What do people want to hold on to? The question is open to architects – quite probably it has always been so. Nevertheless, architecture keeps expanding its own agenda, standing confident against the challenges that are posed by a multi-faceted context. Should we paraphrase Renzo Piano13, these projects are at once a problem of renovation and conservation, and a reclaiming of space – that is, not only safeguarding built heritage but also expanding it in living, breathing conditions. The foundation, upon which such an approach is possible, is the very substance of an exceptional quality. It may manifest in terms of memory, esthetic quality, or a sense of place. As we stated in the beginning, this requires an acute sensibility on meaning and value. At the same time, it reveals the detrimental dimension of vanity, once the architect claims his place in the collective accumulation of memory and intellectual property. In this endeavor, conservation specialists may play a critical advisory role, but the ethical burden stays with architecture. Again in the words of Susan Macdonald, it remains “[t]he responsibility of designers (…) to ensure that their work contributes to and enriches rather than diminishes the built environment”14. The projects we examine in the following pages establish this argument in the present tense. 7 Rory Olcayto, ‘Holl’s Glasgow Art School Building: First Reaction | Opinion | Architects Journal’, Architects’ Journal, 2014 <http://www.architectsjournal.co.uk/comment/holls-glasgow-art-school-building-first-reaction/8658938.article> [accessed 5 January 2015]. 8 Douglas Murphy, ‘Reid Building by Steven Holl’, Icon Magazine, 2014 <http://www.iconeye.com/architecture/news/item/10201reid-building-by-steven-holl> [accessed 5 January 2015]. 9 Oliver Wainwright, ‘Green Giant: Can Glasgow’s New School of Art Eclipse Mackintosh’s Marvel?’, the Guardian, 2014 <http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/mar/01/charles-rennie-mackintosh-glasgow-school-art> [accessed 7 January 2015]. 10 Macdonald. 11 Jencks. 12 Jencks, p. 4. 13 ‘The art of inserting a new building into an historic city block means engaging in an open, physical dialogue with the existing city buildings. Building onto a structure also presents an opportunity for a wide-ranging renovation project, a reclaiming of space.’ RPBW, ‘Pathé Foundation’, Renzo Piano Building Workshop <http://www.rpbw.com/project/81/pathe-foundation/> [accessed 5 January 2015]. 14 Macdonald.