On Carbuncles

Why its worth preserving ugly structures? 

One of the questions I am frequently asked is why buildings and structures that seem to have no aesthetic merit have been Listed for preservation by the conservation authorities. 

I confess that, despite being an enthusiastic exponent of conservation engineering, I too struggle with the requirement to preserve some structures. 

For example, I am quite sure that I share the majority view that brutalist architecture is ugly and the genre has not delivered the utopia that was promised. In saying this I recognise that I am wholly out of step with many, possibly the majority, of architects.

Conversely, I have found that when reading Le Corbusier’s philosophy of brutalist design I am wholly enthused and compelled by his logic. It jars that there is a complete disconnect between the eloquence of his written intent and how it has transferred into the real world. Sadly, it has always been this way with utopian ideas.

So while the public declares that ‘the emperor has no clothes’ the architectural profession continues to be enthralled by Le Corbusier’s philosophy and principles, seemly blind to the simple fact that brutalism has created a legacy of truly miserable buildings that do not work in practise. Lest my architectural friends chide me for suggesting brutalist buildings do not work let me clarify what I mean. 

Whatever their perceived architectural merits, direct experience has taught me that their fabric has not stood the test of time. In many cases the distress and deterioration are intrinsic to their design and detailing. 

Another interesting case would be the preservation of industrial buildings. In this instance I am possibly further away from the majority public opinion, though I don’t think there is an equivalence with brutalist architecture. Redundant industrial architecture generally served a useful purpose in its day and often had a cleverness about its design. For example, the structural efficiency of some cooling towers and gas holders is remarkable.

I would also adopt the view that some industrial design does actually have an aesthetic quality, though perhaps, as an engineer, that is my blind spot. I rather suspect that at some subliminal level understanding why something works converts into an enhanced aesthetic appreciation. 

I suppose if this hunch is true, and I am to apply it consistently, then I fear I must grant my architectural friends some latitude too.

All that being said, while I cannot bring myself to appreciate some Listing decisions, I think that I can shed some light on why the system is so.

The first step is to understand that the point of the Listing system is not to preserve aesthetically beautiful buildings, although many Listed buildings do fulfil that criteria. Nor does it mean that the decision to preserve a particular architect or engineer’s work is because their work is beautiful.

In such cases the important question is why the work of said designer is considered important not whether their work is beautiful. More often than not it is because they changed the way something was done and caused us to think differently about design.

As I have previously noted I can accept that there is an elegance to the writings of Le Corbusier; though I would argue that the theory he expounded has been proven hollow. I would also accept that his designs definitely represent a change in how things were done, though I would argue not necessarily for the better. I imagine that contention will not meet with universal approval and is an argument that is unlikely to be resolved any time soon, but clearly that is not the point.

So what is the point?

In a prior post ‘On Conservation Principles’ I noted that buildings reflect changes in the way we live and work, and also the cultural values that were prevalent at the time. An industrial chimney may be worth preserving, because in its day it was a community’s raison d’etre. The community exists because the factory exists. Preserving the factory preserves evidence of a way of life and a way of working.

This is the point. Some structures are preserved not because of what they look like, but rather because of what they represent. This is the reason I don’t mind working on projects where I don’t necessarily like the aesthetics. I can nevertheless appreciate the history and culture that is involved. If I get really stuck I can still fall back on finding enjoyment in whatever puzzles the project throws up; there are always engineering puzzles to solve[1].

In this sense a nation’s infrastructure and building stock is much like the rest of its history. There are parts to be proud of and there are parts you rather wish hadn’t happened. Unfortunately only the future is still to be written. For better or worse we own our past both good and bad. We should try to understand our Carbuncles**.

[1] that’s not the only reason. I am also not sure that many people would like to live in a world where I got to decide what qualifies as being aesthetic and only what pleased me could be built!

[2] for those too young to remember, in 1984 Prince Charles described a proposed extension to the National Gallery in the following way. “What is proposed seems to me a monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend”. His view got him into bother with Architects at the time, but I just think its a funny phrase.