Postmodernism? Born-again modernism? Or pilfer-anything eclecticism?
The answer may well be none of the above. The predominant style of the 1980s and 1990s is probably architectural conservation.
Refurbishment certainly chimes with the spirit of the age. It preserves our built heritage – another late 20th-century obsession – with half a million buildings now formally listed by the Department of Culture, Media and Sport as being of architectural or historical interest. It saves our existing towns, communities and countryside from mass redevelopment. And it conserves the planet’s limited resources.
We have probably reached – indeed surpassed – the peak of devotion to architectural conservation. The government’s mammoth listing exercise was completed two years ago, around the same time that building conservation officers formalised themselves as the Institute of Historic Buildings Conservation. Even blatantly modernist architects, proponents of function, change and progress in design, see no contradiction in jumping on the heritage bandwagon.
Take the Baltic Centre for example …
A case in point is the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art, soon to be created modernist-style from a 1930s flour mill in Gateshead. At first sight, this great hulk of brick and concrete looks like an ideal shell for displaying large modern sculptures and paintings. The snag is that the entire building consisted of a honeycomb of 180 concrete flour silos, which have now been demolished in preparation for refurbishment. But internal demolition has destroyed the building’s structural integrity to such an extent that the four external walls – the only bits left – are now being temporarily shored up by an elaborate steel exoskeleton that would do a permanent building proud.
This is applying Vietnam war tactics to architecture – destroying buildings in order to save them.
No criticism is intended of Dominic William’s competition-winning design for the Baltic Centre. This design is superior to the old flour mill, and there is no point holding on to what is left.
One approach to building conservation can now be jettisoned: preserve for preservation’s sake
Forget nostalgia
As we step into the third millennium, it is clearly time to take stock of our approach to building conservation. It has more going for it than ever, in many ways; particularly as it complies superbly with new-found sustainability policies.
But it is time to take a rational and adult approach in which each project is appraised on its merits. The overriding aim must be to improve the long-term quality of the environment, both for building occupants and for society at large.
There will be plenty of dilemmas that need reconciling. Yes, retaining an existing building saves on materials, expense and labour. But will the retained fabric be more or less durable and costly in the long term? Yes, an old building can often be adapted to modern uses and standards of comfort, particularly as architects have become so well versed in sensitive conservation and conversion – but not if such adaptation destroys the building.
A whole range of such questions must be weighed up rationally for each project, considering both new and well-worn arguments. However, one hand-me-down approach to building conservation can now be jettisoned: the sentimental, nostalgic urge to preserve for preservation’s sake.
Over the past quarter-century, we have absorbed and rethought lessons from the past in creating buildings and townscapes that put people first rather than machines, cars, bureaucratic regulations or shabby construction techniques. We can now confidently put these design lessons into practice without always deferring to existing buildings.
So, has the time come to throw away the DCMS’s catalogue of listed buildings? No, just the opposite. We should take listed building legislation at face value. Contrary to popular opinion, DCMS listing is not a preservation order. It requires developers and their architects to follow set procedures in appraising a listed building. This process familiarises the architect with the building so that he or she can adapt it sensitively. If sensitive adaptation then proves impossible, the same process provides a benchmark against which a replacement building design can be appraised.
Postscript
Martin Spring is architectural editor of Building.
