Brandon Donnelly
Daily insights for city builders. Published since 2013 by Toronto-based real estate developer Brandon Donnelly.
Brandon Donnelly
Daily insights for city builders. Published since 2013 by Toronto-based real estate developer Brandon Donnelly.
After the fire at Paris’ Notre-Dame in 2019 and the destruction of the cathedral’s wooden spire, President Macron came forward with an idea: France would host an international design competition and look to replace the lost spire with a “contemporary architectural gesture.”
This precipitated a bunch of bold and “out there” proposals, but ultimately the public wasn’t down with this idea. Polls showed that the majority were in favor of just restoring the 19th century spire designed by Eugène Viollet-le-Duc. And so the idea was dropped.
This, of course, is not surprising. For better or for worse, I bet that if you asked a random sampling of people whether they prefer old-looking architecture (technical industry term) or something modern, the majority would likely say they prefer the former.
Of course, in this case, we’re not just talking about any old-looking building. Notre-Dame dates back to the 12th century and is one of the country’s most recognizable symbols. People are naturally going to feel strongly.
But what is perhaps more interesting is that is an instance of history repeating itself. Viollet-le-Duc’s 19th century spire was obviously not Notre-Dame’s original medieval spire. It had replaced a previous one that had, for whatever reason, become unstable over the course of a cool five centuries.
And interestingly enough, the idea of doing something different was also rigorously discussed in the 19th century and the answer, then, was also no:
Viollet-le-Duc himself turned down a proposal to add two new spires atop the towers, arguing that such a monument "would be remarkable but would not be Notre-Dame de Paris”. Instead, he proposed to rebuild the original medieval spire and bell tower over the transept, which had been removed in 1786 because it was unstable in the wind.
Striking the right balance between preservation and progress is always a tricky one. But it’s maybe comforting to know that this struggle has been going on for as long as we’ve been designing structures. And in the case of Notre-Dame de Paris, there’s a long history to look to: just stick to the past.
I'll let all of you be the judge as to whether this was and is the right approach.
Cover photo by Fabio Rogerio Sant Ana on Unsplash
Witold Rybczynski wrote on his blog this week about historic preservation. He cites a number of reasons for why one might want to renovate, restore, and preserve an old building. But he also provides a reason for why one might not want to renovate, restore, and preserve an old building.
“What seems to me a less compelling reason is the idea that a building should be preserved simply because it is representative of a previous period or architectural fashion. In architecture, as in many human endeavors, not all periods are equally admirable; there are ups and downs.”
I thought this was an interesting comment because it reinforces the idea that this is a fairly subjective exercise. One of his reasons for preserving a building is that it might be particularly beautiful or represent some sort of human achievement. But beautiful to whom?
Similarly, who determines which architectural period or fashion is an up or a down? Is brutalist architecture worth preserving or is it not yet old enough to have perceived value? Will it ever be widely admired? And is there really an architectural cycle?
Many of us can probably agree that New York City’s original Penn Station by McKim, Mead and White was a tragic loss. But I am sure that many of us will also disagree on what are considered to be the most admirable periods of architectural fashion.
After the fire at Paris’ Notre-Dame in 2019 and the destruction of the cathedral’s wooden spire, President Macron came forward with an idea: France would host an international design competition and look to replace the lost spire with a “contemporary architectural gesture.”
This precipitated a bunch of bold and “out there” proposals, but ultimately the public wasn’t down with this idea. Polls showed that the majority were in favor of just restoring the 19th century spire designed by Eugène Viollet-le-Duc. And so the idea was dropped.
This, of course, is not surprising. For better or for worse, I bet that if you asked a random sampling of people whether they prefer old-looking architecture (technical industry term) or something modern, the majority would likely say they prefer the former.
Of course, in this case, we’re not just talking about any old-looking building. Notre-Dame dates back to the 12th century and is one of the country’s most recognizable symbols. People are naturally going to feel strongly.
But what is perhaps more interesting is that is an instance of history repeating itself. Viollet-le-Duc’s 19th century spire was obviously not Notre-Dame’s original medieval spire. It had replaced a previous one that had, for whatever reason, become unstable over the course of a cool five centuries.
And interestingly enough, the idea of doing something different was also rigorously discussed in the 19th century and the answer, then, was also no:
Viollet-le-Duc himself turned down a proposal to add two new spires atop the towers, arguing that such a monument "would be remarkable but would not be Notre-Dame de Paris”. Instead, he proposed to rebuild the original medieval spire and bell tower over the transept, which had been removed in 1786 because it was unstable in the wind.
Striking the right balance between preservation and progress is always a tricky one. But it’s maybe comforting to know that this struggle has been going on for as long as we’ve been designing structures. And in the case of Notre-Dame de Paris, there’s a long history to look to: just stick to the past.
I'll let all of you be the judge as to whether this was and is the right approach.
Cover photo by Fabio Rogerio Sant Ana on Unsplash
Witold Rybczynski wrote on his blog this week about historic preservation. He cites a number of reasons for why one might want to renovate, restore, and preserve an old building. But he also provides a reason for why one might not want to renovate, restore, and preserve an old building.
“What seems to me a less compelling reason is the idea that a building should be preserved simply because it is representative of a previous period or architectural fashion. In architecture, as in many human endeavors, not all periods are equally admirable; there are ups and downs.”
I thought this was an interesting comment because it reinforces the idea that this is a fairly subjective exercise. One of his reasons for preserving a building is that it might be particularly beautiful or represent some sort of human achievement. But beautiful to whom?
Similarly, who determines which architectural period or fashion is an up or a down? Is brutalist architecture worth preserving or is it not yet old enough to have perceived value? Will it ever be widely admired? And is there really an architectural cycle?
Many of us can probably agree that New York City’s original Penn Station by McKim, Mead and White was a tragic loss. But I am sure that many of us will also disagree on what are considered to be the most admirable periods of architectural fashion.
I somehow stumbled upon this transcript from Columbia University’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation (GSAPP), covering a talk that architect Rem Koolhaas did at the school back in, I think, 2014.
The title: “Preservation is overtaking us.” It’s all about how his firm OMA thinks about and approaches preservation.
The overarching theme is that preservation, for them, has become a kind of refuge from the market forces – which they call the “The ¥€$ Regime” – that currently drive architecture and demand constant novelty. It is refuge from “starchitecture.”
Here is an excerpt:
At some point, I don’t know who was responsible, the word, “starchitect” was invented. And we all know what it is: a term of derision. And at some point, it becomes very hard to avoid. I would say that preservation is, for us, a type of refuge from this term. What we are hoping to do is propose a number of strategies in which we are working to undo, or escape, from this label.
And here is a summary of “OMA’s Preservation Manifesto” taken from the GSAPP transcript:
Starchitecture is dead
New forms are no longer relevant
Preservation is architecture’s saving retreat
Preservation creates relevance without new forms
Preservation is architecture’s formless substitution
It’s a substantial read, but a fascinating one. In case you don’t get to it (understandable), I would like to leave you with this final excerpt:
What we started to do was look at preservation in general and look a little bit at the history of preservation. Now, the first law of preservation ever defined was in 1790, just a few years after the French Revolution. That is already an interesting idea, that at the moment in France when the past was basically being prepared for the rubbish dump, the issue of preserving monuments was raised for the first time. Another equally important moment was in 1877, when, in Victorian England, in the most intense moment of civilization, there was the second preservation proposition. If you look at inventions that were taking place between these two moments—cement, the spinning frame, the stethoscope, anesthesia, photography, blueprints, etc.—you suddenly realize that preservation is not the enemy of modernity but actually one of its inventions. That makes perfect sense because clearly the whole idea of modernization raises, whether latently or overtly, the issue of what to keep.
I like the notion that preservation is one of the inventions of modernity, rather than an enemy of it.
I somehow stumbled upon this transcript from Columbia University’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation (GSAPP), covering a talk that architect Rem Koolhaas did at the school back in, I think, 2014.
The title: “Preservation is overtaking us.” It’s all about how his firm OMA thinks about and approaches preservation.
The overarching theme is that preservation, for them, has become a kind of refuge from the market forces – which they call the “The ¥€$ Regime” – that currently drive architecture and demand constant novelty. It is refuge from “starchitecture.”
Here is an excerpt:
At some point, I don’t know who was responsible, the word, “starchitect” was invented. And we all know what it is: a term of derision. And at some point, it becomes very hard to avoid. I would say that preservation is, for us, a type of refuge from this term. What we are hoping to do is propose a number of strategies in which we are working to undo, or escape, from this label.
And here is a summary of “OMA’s Preservation Manifesto” taken from the GSAPP transcript:
Starchitecture is dead
New forms are no longer relevant
Preservation is architecture’s saving retreat
Preservation creates relevance without new forms
Preservation is architecture’s formless substitution
It’s a substantial read, but a fascinating one. In case you don’t get to it (understandable), I would like to leave you with this final excerpt:
What we started to do was look at preservation in general and look a little bit at the history of preservation. Now, the first law of preservation ever defined was in 1790, just a few years after the French Revolution. That is already an interesting idea, that at the moment in France when the past was basically being prepared for the rubbish dump, the issue of preserving monuments was raised for the first time. Another equally important moment was in 1877, when, in Victorian England, in the most intense moment of civilization, there was the second preservation proposition. If you look at inventions that were taking place between these two moments—cement, the spinning frame, the stethoscope, anesthesia, photography, blueprints, etc.—you suddenly realize that preservation is not the enemy of modernity but actually one of its inventions. That makes perfect sense because clearly the whole idea of modernization raises, whether latently or overtly, the issue of what to keep.
I like the notion that preservation is one of the inventions of modernity, rather than an enemy of it.
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