William Blake Cut Sharp Marriage Marks

May 6th, 2015

I like how Rudy refers to the circuitous route by which trades tend to get to where they are though I would want, for cultural reasons, to flip this perception on its head. I have usually known pretty well where I wanted to go, if only I could find a way to get there. If there was a circuitous part, then it came about mostly from my listening to other people, teachers, adults, guidance counselors, misguided mentors, friends, telling me that I could not get to where I wanted to go.

Stonemason mentor on the left, Marshall Pruitt. On the right, a younger Ken Follett.

Stonemason mentor on the left, Marshall Pruitt. On the right, a younger Ken Follett.

I know a good number of folk in the traditional trades who knew full well right along that was where they wanted to be. Often enough there was pressure from their families to be something else, and they had to learn to resist. I consider this the “cantankerous” generation that came along with an attitude of, “No way, not us, we won’t go.”

This irritable, though valiant, resistance, by the way, has a tendency to become ingrained in habits of thought and feeling and quite often will bleed over into project teams. Such as the oft-encountered sense of adversity, a false one that I do not have space enough to go into presently, between the person who designs with lines and the person who uses a hammer and a chisel to cut lines.

But I step back from a reactionary impulse and begin to think about where a belief originates that one can live a good life thoughtfully while working physically. I believe it has to do a great deal with our ability to see options, to see opportunities, to visualize a path, to know where the next step is. Just as with a revolutionary, a rioter, a victim or suicide, the options, opportunities, and the vision of a path forward may not be there.

At one time in my youth my life was a bit messed up and it occurred to me that, as with many at a point in their lives, I had no clue what I wanted to do with myself. I decided that doing anything would be better than wondering what not to do next. I’d pretty much given up on going to college (I kept applying to a working cattle ranch and school near Death Valley), and so I said to self, “I think I will go to Japan.”

So, I drove alone to Oregon from upstate NY, and after a half year, including several months working as a cook in a restaurant on a Native American reservation, I hitchhiked back. I never left the American continent. I never got on a boat. At some point not long after my return to the family home I was piling up stones in a creek – not as sophisticated as that YouTube guy that balances stones – and it was then I decided that I wanted to learn to build fireplaces. Not long after that I was delivering bull manure – it was my first honest business – and I met a stonemason who was as old as I am now. He needed a mule and I went to work. He sort of taught me how to build fireplaces, and he also taught me how not to build them. The idea that one should only learn from people who know what they are doing is misleading. I now know that in winter the white stuff on the frozen trowel was ice and not a sign of the mortar setting up quickly. I worked with him for three years. Twelve-hour days, six days a week. I think of him often these days as I look around at the world of trades work.

A point of my early bias in respect to formal education can be illustrated with an exposure that we had for a few days of patio and barbecue building when a young fellow about my age came along. He was recommended by someone’s aunt or uncle. He told us he wanted to be a stonemason and that he had gone to school in Denmark for it. This poor kid was a dunce when it came to stonework. We had to shuffle him off fairly quickly. He may have had a paper certificate in stonework. (I have nothing against Denmark.)

What I came to learn was that if I wanted to learn how to do a thing, then it was up to me to go find someone who knew how to do it and to then do my best to work hard and gain their approval so that they would feel inclined to teach me. My career has been a movement from my choice of one mentor to another until one day I looked around and wondered where they had all gone off to.

Some may say that my learning was imbalanced. I have a habit of finding people that I think are angels. This one day I had off from work, it had to be a Sunday, and I was sitting on the wall at the local bank and this guy came along and asked me for $5. He said he did not want just $5 for nothing, but that he wanted to talk with me for a while and then I could decide if I wanted to give him $5. So we talked.

He asked me what I did for a living and I told him about building fireplaces and doing stonework and out of the blue he pointed to the row houses across the way and said, “One day people will be asking you how to fix buildings like that.” It was then I thought he may be a bit nuts. But, eventually that is exactly what I came about and learned to do. See, there is a seed to every vision, and with as many visions as we can hold there are more options and more opportunities.

But, I can also revert to what Rudy says about starting out in one direction and ending up in some other place. I actually started out wanting to be a poet. I may still be one, but taking up a sledge hammer and banging on glacial cobbles to split them open and reveal the minerals, crystals and colors of their insides and then building a wall of them is a compulsion all unto itself.

At one time I wanted to be a zoologist with a specialization in animal behavior. We have had all sorts of pets over the years. Another time I wanted to be a goat herder and build a yogurt empire, but then we got pygmy hedgehogs and I felt downsized in the dairy industry. Instead, I like to make wine out of weeds and flower petals.

Though my rambling here may seem off the mark, the point I want to make is that very often when I am engaged in doing what seems the least likely to have anything to do with traditional trades, or even with historic preservation, is often where I learn the most useful skills. In some circles, it is called play. In my culture I call it meditation in motion. It is that celebration of life where our work becomes the passion, where it is not solely gauged by the pay check or the industrial hours, but by the satisfaction, the contentment of doing a thing that one is able to do and at the odd times to accomplish it fairly well.

As humans we need heroes, we need role models, we need companionship and a sense of community in shared values. Rudy asks why there is an imbalance in the implementation of the learning modes in our society. There is not much of an imbalance in my society. There may be in your society, but not in mine. Rudy often calls out that that there is a problem with our culture.

Many years ago it occurred to me that if I wanted to write just like everyone else then I should read what they read. If I wanted to write something different then, as with Thoreau, I would need to find my own dissonant drummer, and read what every other writer is not reading. Go off list, young man! The learned knowledge that comes of reading, of reading extensively, is a form of culture. There are some really incredibly dense and obtuse books out there (I confess to having read all of Finnegan’s Wake, once, while daydreaming amid mesas) and one day I had the epiphany that all those fashionable books that I don’t care to read are not in my culture. In fact, to we each have to live within our own unique culture. So, honestly, I’m not quite sure what culture it is that Rudy is calling ours. In my culture tradespeople are not only highly valued and respected, in many cases they are my friends.

One time I was in a bar and I told a stranger that I wanted to be a writer. He responded, “So stop wanting to be one, and be one.” That made sense. It shows that we can learn things at the least expected opportunity. If you want a different culture, then have a different culture. Another time, I told my painter friend that I was having a good time playing with stones and he remarked, “Well, maybe that is what you are supposed to do.”

Likewise, if one does not want to be imprisoned in a narrow minded society where the abstract function of the brain is dominant over the mind and hand at play together, then just don’t do that.

Go barefoot and run into the sun with sharp mortise chisels.

Note:  William Blake was an engraver and poet. He engraved copper plates for illustrations of his poetry. That line cutting, very sharp and precise was an act of craft that in turn became a print. He had a fixation on the sharp line and rebelled against the fuzzy lines of the artists of his day. He also created a rather intense personal culture. One of his poems, written in 1790, was The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. Timber framers, at least some of them, use “marriage marks” to indicate which end of a timber joins into another.

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Which Came First: Teaching or Learning Trades?

February 23rd, 2015

Ken’s first contribution to “A Place for Trades” was primarily about process, which points up the fact that learning (hopefully) can be the result of a system of education which works from the top down, or the bottom up, or a mix of each. Analytically, this is quite well thought out and described, unlike the way in which most people I know in the trades would view their own circuitous route which lead them there. In fact, far more people I meet in the trades tell a story of starting out in the “hierarchal” learning environment and ending up in “distributed” ones, as Professor Elmore has put forth.

My timber framing mentor Ed Levin, who we unfortunately lost in 2013, started off college with the intention of becoming a mathematician. My college years were spent as a student of mechanical engineering. Interestingly, both of us started off studying subjects which later in life proved invaluable in our pursuit of the trade of timber framing, and both of us transitioned from one form of learning to another during our quest. In fact we probably spent time learning our trade in all four “distinct modes of learning” described by Professor Elmore.

To me this begs the question why is there such an imbalance in the implementation of the learning modes in our society? Have we intentionally structured public and private education as hierarchal because of the relative simplicity of it compared with the less structured modes, or have we designed the educational system to produce the kind of student we consider to be the most beneficial to our society? Have we modeled our culture of education to suit who we have become, or who we wish to become? The answer may lie in the fact that what we now call “shop class” was originally called “industrial arts.”

In a culture where tradespeople are considered highly valued members of society, the mechanisms by which the knowledge of the trades is passed from generation to generation are prolific. As I stated in my own last blog post, the fact that learning a trade is largely an experiential process means it requires tradespeople to be involved. It also means that the mode of learning our current educational matrix is built on, hierarchal individual, is not well suited to tradespeople functioning as educators within the system. In effect, whether by intention or not, our educational system is a reflection of our society; a society in which tradespeople are largely invisible.

From left to right Philippe Compagnon (Zimmerman Instructor), me, Carson Christian (my son) and Lon Tyler (TFG member and friend) at the compound roof framing class we participated in at the Gewerbe Akademie in Rotweil, Germany, in 2003. Hands on learning German style!

From left to right Filippo Compagnon (Zimmerman Instructor), me, Carson Christian (my son) and Lon Tyler (TFG member and friend) at the compound roof framing class we participated in at the Gewerbe Akademie in Rotweil, Germany, in 2003. Hands-on learning German style!

As Ken points out, my personal mandate to share my knowledge of the trades isn’t shared by every tradesperson, nor should it be. I like to think my German heritage has influenced my desire to pass along the knowledge of the trades. In Germany tradespeople are still considered an important part of society and the educational system there is built to educate people with an interest in becoming one. My son and I were lucky enough to attend the Gewerbe Akademie in Rotweil, Germany, for a short period, where we studied compound roof framing. It was a valuable experience for me because of the insight it provided in how the trades can be taught.

At first blush it would appear the mode of learning at the Gewerbe Akademie is “hierarchal” because each classroom has an instructor who oversees the learning activities undertaken by the students. Those activities, in the carpentry (Zimmerman) course, include drafting, projected drawing, tool sharpening, joinery and model building. What is interesting to me is that the student starts out learning the traditional ways of timber carpentry and transitions through its evolution to CNC machine programming and operation. Once this period of preliminary education is complete, the student has the option of where to take on an apprenticeship followed by a period as a journeyman during which the learning mode becomes “distributed.”

Germany and France each have trades educational systems built on centuries of tradition, yet the students are encouraged to pursue their trades education in whatever way best suits their personal interest, whether it is based on tradition or modern technology, and the modes of learning are employed as a logical sequence, rather than a restrictive structure. To me this is an indication of how an educational system can actually support students of the trades who are subsequently encouraged by the fact that the trades are valued in their culture.

It may be that our public and private educational systems are so linear because of their goal of providing certification for succeeding in the “garbage-in-garbage-out” methodology employed. It would appear they are more about teaching than learning and the type of individual who succeeds at memorization is granted a certificate showing they have the right stuff memorized to function as a member of our capitalistic society. The need for the experiential learning that is necessary in the pursuit of becoming a tradesperson isn’t recognized as being of any value since there really is no need to educate a nonexistent part of our society.

To me, this is motivation enough to want to be actively involved in any process which nurtures learning a trade. It’s not as much a mandate as a survival mechanism. If we believe that our society, and our built heritage, is or will be better off with tradespeople as part of the population, we can’t leave the process of creating them to an educational system which no longer recognizes their relevance. Although I have met a lot of people who disagree, in my opinion certification is not the answer. As I have said before, you don’t learn a trade in school. If we really are certificate driven, maybe we could just give graduates an “I’ve figured out what I want to learn!” certificate.

Maybe Professor Elmore has so carefully studied the four “distinct modes of learning” as comprehensively as he has because he has realized that a holistic education requires a blend of them. As Ken so correctly points out, they all lend themselves to the different way people learn in different ways. To focus on one method penalizes the students who need the other. In a way, the lack of recognition of the trades in both our society and its educational systems, has humiliated many who would succeed if they were not imprisoned in a narrow minded society where the use of the mind itself is valued, instead of the use of the mind and hand together.

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Want to Trade?

January 7th, 2015

Who would have thought that accepting the opportunity six years ago to blog about the trades for Traditional Building would have led to so many intriguing conversations with readers with such varied perspectives on where we are, how we got here and where we should go from here? More than anyone else, those conversations have been with my long time friend, fellow tradesperson and writer Ken Follett, although some may not call our interchanges as much conversations as conflictations.

My respect for Ken’s view of many things, in particular the place of, or even need for, trades education in our society, has motivated me to let those conversations be viewed and reacted to by you. Ken has agreed to be a guest blogger in “A Place for Trades” and you are about to have the pleasure of reading his first post. I will follow his post with another of my own and we will alternate posts as we move forward in our blogging match. Enjoy. – Rudy Christian

I have been invited, or challenged, to contribute here as either a sounding board, a counter-measure or a punching bag to my friend Rudy Christian’s blog comments. Though by habit I am inclined to hustle rocks into a pile, this may be a case where I assist Rudy when he needs persuasion to throw his more warped and knotty timbers onto an active bonfire. Hopefully there will be no dynamite in the mix, but there may be some firecrackers.

Rudy often says that there is a need to change our culture. I am not quite sure what he means by that and I suspect that I may disagree. If we turn off the television, don’t listen to the radio, forget to go online to check the news, and go read a book about the eleventh century, then our personal culture is very quickly changed. So, culture has changed, in particular my culture has changed, but whatever problem you started the day with, I expect you still have to deal with it.

Ken (second from right) doing what he does best - reminding us that we are the stories we tell. As you can see, everyone is listening.

Ken (second from right) doing what he does best – reminding us that we are the stories we tell. As you can see, everyone is listening.

Rudy in his last blog pointed out that public education as it is currently structured is not the solution to the need for a maintenance of the knowledge of practice in traditional building trades, but that the practitioners of traditional trades themselves provide a solution. I want to step back from what Rudy has said and look at the kinds of education that are actually available.

Public education over the last 50 years has leaned toward the elimination of shop, home economics, arts and music. Though we could go into expressing our views on why this has occurred, for the most part we need to acknowledge that our political and academic society has taken this direction, in many respects, out of a lack of understanding of the various ways in which people learn. For this position I would draw from the work of a high-level academic, Professor Richard Elmore, the Gregory R. Anrig Professor of Educational Leadership at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. (ed, Harvard: GSE2, Leaders of Learning, 2014.)

What Professor Elmore puts forward is a model of four distinct modes of learning. For this conversation between Rudy and myself, this distinction is important to understand. One of the modes is specific to an educational model predominant in public education and tends to exclude the other three modes of learning. The four modes are Hierarchical Individual, Hierarchical Collective, Distributed Individual, and Distributed Collective.

Hierarchical Individual: Within the structure of a set of learning objectives, in general provided by an external source (such as the government) there is a well-defined framework of teacher to student in a superior-subordinate relationship. The orientation is toward performance targets, as in individual testing. This is the mode of education that those who can’t quite make it, those of a tactile and experiential hands-on relationship to the physical world, find themselves experiencing as a really lousy time in their lives.

Hierarchical Collective: A bit less restrictive, learning objectives established externally, but the learning process is more accommodating to a group of students in a learning community to work together in a guided relationship with an instructor. This is somewhat the model of a workshop in which an experienced timber framer leads a group of students in fabrication of cannon carriages required for a specific historic fort. The goal of the workshop is from an external source – the need of the museum fort for cannon carriages – but the instructor works with the students in guiding them as a working group. There is a clear objective and it may not allow within the context or the time involved for an individual student to carve out of oak a happy mermaid.

Distributed Individual: In this mode the individual follows his/her own self-generated learning objectives, gaining the knowledge that they require from the world around them.The students are often involved in a mentoring relationship with an instructor, or several instructors, who possess and are willing to share the experience and knowledge that the student seeks. An example would be a young mason who desires to learn to build traditional fireplaces. He would seek out a mason who builds fireplaces to work with, and also has the initiative and self-directed interest to read up in a library as much as possible. In addition, he would take an occasional class to broaden his/her skill set.

This is a learning mode close to what Rudy expresses as forming a bond between the mentor and the student. The mentor is not necessarily degreed in formal educational practice but has a knowledge that they wish to impart to others.

Where I do disagree with Rudy is that I do not believe that there is a universal mandate that anyone who knows anything has a responsibility to share. I consider this an important distinction. For one thing, there may not be anyone looking for that particular bit of knowledge, and for another, the one-on-one educational model is not particularly efficient when it comes to learning objectives established by an external authority.

For instance, if the external learning objective is to increase public literacy and the basic math skills required of a consumer society, then a hierarchical mode of learning has a more efficient, a broader reach than one-on-one. Or, if the objective is to increase the resource pool of traditional trades practitioners able to work on historic sites, then it makes sense that one not rely on a learning mode whereby the mentor selects the student as well as the student seeks out and selects the mentor.

My own education after public school was to seek out working mentors and prove to them that I was worthy to be their student. One aspect that needs to be kept in mind is that those a bit more on the radical edge who learn in this manner likely did so contrary to the tracking the hierarchical education modes may have enforced onto them, and often are not particularly adapted to “playing with others.”

Distributed Collective: This mode involves a community of learning in which a group of people with a common interest gain knowledge from each other and from their interaction with the world at large. There are leaders and instructors, but the tendency is for a collective sharing of the learning experience, and the leadership takes on less of an instructor-student relationship and more of a role of cultivating the interests of a community of people and sustaining them within an environment that enhances the educational experience.

An example of this mode would be a local writers workshop in which the leader sets the calendar of gatherings but leaves it to the writers to bring their own material to read and discuss. It is a highly organic mode of communal learning, and those comfortable in the mode tend to have a great capacity to play together. Another example is the occasional free-form of a PTN IPTW, in which between demonstration sessions of hands-on trades practitioners (giving those with knowledge experience of teaching to a group), people stand in the cold and rain and talk about whatever. The learning is within a structured environment without structured objectives other than the desire of the individual seeking to be informed.

Though in practice the distinction between each mode of learning is clouded and mixed, it is valuable to have models from which to make distinctions between what we see as currently existing, to be able to discern what we like and what we do not like, where we find ourselves between the selection of modes, and what we would like to imagine as possible for the future.

These modes of learning, though not directly relevant to heritage conservation or maintenance of the built environment, are the perspectives being explored at a high academic level as well as being pushed out into the educational environment. If there is to be a change in our culture, which Rudy often says we need, then one element is that there needs to be a wider public and political perspective on the potentials of public education.

The call to reinvest public education with shop class, home economics, art and music is not solely that there is a need for people in the world proficient in use of a hammer, paint brush or spatula, but that there is a whole wider world of people who need education to serve their best mode of learning and to cultivate their individual and community potential. In public education, to ignore three-fourths of alternative modes of education, to isolate and nurture one mode of learners from the majority of others, is to erode the foundation of a democratic citizenship. Nevertheless, to abandon public education as a viable cultural resource and give preference to alternative educational resources would also be a problem.

As things are, the more individually directed learning modes remain viable as traditional educational pathways for those who have the opportunity and capital resources to pursue their individual dreams. This leaves these pathways unavailable to many who are in serious need of them.

 

 

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So Now What?

November 17th, 2014
Willa serves a crab boil for the instructors at the workshop at Savannah Technical College. One of the perks for tradespeople teaching!

Willa serves a crab boil for the instructors at the workshop at Savannah Technical College. One of the perks for tradespeople teaching! 

Having received some really good comments on my last blog, I have decided to stay on the same tack for the time being. We have been talking about the failure, for the most part, of today’s educational system(s) in addressing the continuing demand for qualified tradespeople. As a point of reference I have also pointed out that, at least as far as public education is concerned, the failure is our own, not the school system. How can we cast blame on anything for failing to do what it was never designed to do in the first place?

I have been spending a lot of time ruminating about this quandary, as you might imagine, and I have come upon an interesting (to me) hypothesis: Is the reason we have such a hard time seeing the solution based on the fact that we are it? Aren’t most of us already aware that passing down knowledge requires participation? Have we been ignoring our own responsibility because we spend almost no time at all being aware of its existence?

I have talked before about how much I enjoy being involved in workshops that have been organized by the Timber Framers Guild or the Preservation Trades Network. I have also received great pleasure from instructing at institutions like Palomar College and Savannah Technical College, but when I think about why I am so rewarded it clearly has a great deal to do with fulfilling my mandate to pass along what I have learned.

What is important to realize here is that when a student becomes aware that they are being empowered to do something they never thought they would, or even could do, at that moment a bond forms between the instructor and the student. That bond is not dependent on a teaching certificate, or degree or tenure. It does not require the instructor to be educated in educating. It simply requires the person who holds the knowledge to freely give it to the person who desires it.

This simple elegant process is deeply embedded in human culture all over the planet. The opportunity to engage in the process may seem less apparent in today’s educational environment, but it does require someone who has the knowledge, and someone who desires it to interact in order for it to take place at all. And, knowing that learning the trades is an experiential process means that, in its purest form, it requires a tradesperson to be the instructor, plain and simple.

I have spent a great deal of time talking with Steve Hartley, Director of the new Center for Traditional Craft and Department Head of Historic Preservation at Savannah Technical College, where the next International Trades Education Symposium will take place May 14-16, 2015, about the topic of process in traditional trades education. Steve has, for several years, included a “Visiting Artisan” program in his curriculum. Beginning in 2015 he is expanding that to feature “Artists in Residence.” The program will actually bring in qualified tradespeople to teach for extended periods at the college.

I think Steve’s idea is a solid step in the right direction. Creating any environment where qualified tradespeople are paid as instructors is an important step in getting from where we are to where we need to be. What I find interesting is how challenging it is for Steve to get qualified trades instructors to set aside large chunks of time to teach. The reality is we need a paradigm shift to take place in order to make this whole concept begin to function as part of the solution to the trades education problem. We need to learn how to do something old again. This is not a new idea; it’s a long needed revival.

Obviously spouting off ideas about how to make this all happen, provided we want it to happen in the first place, would be pretty pointless at this juncture. We are definitely just stepping into the trial-and-error period of development, but I have taken it upon myself to start getting some feedback from the people I know best, tradespeople, and I have been getting some interesting answers.

I have two subcontractors working in my shop currently, one a relatively young (compared to me) carpenter and one a more well-worn in (like me) carpenter who has been specializing in timber framing for many years. I asked the young carpenter Andrew what he thought of having tradespeople as instructors in public and private education and he reminded me the reason he pursued working with me was to try to learn from me some of what I know. He knows he can’t learn it in college, but if it were possible to learn from tradespeople in college, he probably would have stayed in school longer.

When I asked Arvel, the carpenter closer to my age, what he thought of this idea, he said it sounded like a great idea, but immediately realized the difficulties. After a little after-dinner conversation over barley pop and wine, we both began to realize just how attractive a retirement option professionally teaching the trades would be. If situations were to exist where we could actually teach in an environment where we didn’t have to employ our students, run the business of educating them or provide them with tools, we both agreed it would be something we would strongly consider.

It’s time we stopped pointing fingers and casting blame for the lack of trades education opportunities. We have to make them happen. Students want to learn and the demand for educated tradespeople is growing. If we tie that demand to the need for qualified tradespeople as paid instructors, everybody wins. There are a lot of educational programs out there trying to crack this nut, but they need the support of industry, and one simple way to make that happen is to build programs that provide tradespeople as teachers.

We may never see the day again where apprentices learn under the watchful hands of the master, as in years gone by, but we can create a day when students who want to learn are taught what the trades are, can see the opportunities that exist to learn them and do so under the watchful hands of the qualified men and women that make up today’s trades. When we accomplish that, we will be providing as great an opportunity to the tradespeople as their students.

 

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Whatever It Was, It’s Gone

August 26th, 2014

Sorry for being away so long. Like my tractor whisperer recently reminded me, sometimes you just have to think about things.

Since my last blog I have had some interesting discussions about where we go from here. We as tradespeople, architects, engineers, cultural heritage managers and I dare to say, Mr. & Mrs. John Q Public, are becoming increasingly aware of a confluence of lacks; lack of availability of qualified tradespeople and lack of availability of qualified educational programs to help alleviate the unfulfilled demand. This, for any of you who read my blog, is not new ground for me to set a plow into, but where and why to set that plow seems to me to be the overarching questions. I think we need to do a more thorough assessment of what these lacks are, how they came to be, and whether we have the ability to do anything about them.

The more carefully I look at the problem of the lack of qualified tradespeople, the more I realize my friend Ken Follett is correct. It is not that they don’t exist. It’s the fact that as a culture, we have stopped seeing them, by choice. Clearly there has to be some explanation for qualified tradespeople not even being recognized as living within our society, but I believe we have marginalized the trades so completely that it takes one to see one. We have effectively removed the value of trades so completely that asking someone to see the importance of reviving them is meaningless. We have chosen to remove the trades from our lexicon.

What would explain this apparent attempted extermination? I feel that a lot of the blame can be placed on the rate we move in today’s world. Experience has proven to me that doing good work in my trade requires moving relatively slowly compared to how fast things move in the world of high technology. How much appreciation can you have of the stone carver working on the building you just flew by at 70 miles an hour? You can appreciate, if you choose to, fine craftsmanship on the internet, but how often do we take the time to actually watch it being created? We are much more interested in the product than the process.

Chase appears to be enjoying using the 130-year-old cordless drill (boring machine) we taught him to use at the timber-frame workshop the Timber Framers Guild and Friends of Ohio Barns held at the Pasco Museum at the recent Agricultural Progress Days held outside of State College PA. He also learned to use a pull saw and a chisel and mallet. A smile powered volunteer!

Chase appears to be enjoying using the 130-year-old cordless drill (boring machine) we taught him to use at the timber-frame workshop the Timber Framers Guild and Friends of Ohio Barns held at the Pasco Museum at the recent Agricultural Progress Days held outside of State College PA. He also learned to use a pull saw and a chisel and mallet. A smile powered volunteer!

I also am becoming more and more aware of the insidious nature of how we have degraded the value of craftsmanship by no longer building for our children. Our self-indulgent focus on more faster has completely blurred our vision of the future we are doomed to leave to those who follow us, but where are our footsteps for them to follow? Who among the tradespeople today is the person our children can look up to for guidance and to respect for their knowledge and conviction to build what will make a future worth living in? Who is the Lebron James of the trades?

I’m sure some of you are wondering why Roy Underhill or Mike Rowe don’t fit that category. With all due respect, we have chosen to make them “personalities” instead of role models. In order to give them visibility we have chosen to be entertained by them, more than to celebrate them for what they represent. If the young people of today are to become the tradespeople of tomorrow, they need to be educated by today’s tradespeople, not TV personalities. But the educational system that has devolved into daycare at the public level, and a financial burden for our college graduates has no place for tradespeople as educators.

There are, of course, a few exceptions out there, like Belmont Technical Institute, American College of the Building Arts and Savannah Technical College to name a few, but the valiant folks who have dedicated countless years to making those programs survive will tell you that too much work goes into satisfying the bureaucracy of higher education and not enough into putting tools in the hands of students under the guidance of qualified tradespeople. Effectively we have removed tradespeople from the much needed role of instructors by not recognizing them as such in the first place. The problem of invisibility manifests itself again for the trades when seen from the eyes of higher education.

I have been asked to make suggestions as to where we go from here, and as the title of this blog infers, that is a daunting request. Cultural change is not easy to steer. But a phone call from my friend John C Moore, who heads the Construction Technology program at West Kentucky Community & Technical College, affirmed something I have been thinking is a possible important first step. We need to align industry and education. John nearly lost his program due to underwhelming enrollment and budget tightening. It took input directly to the college from local construction business owners to highlight the importance of educating tomorrow’s construction tradespeople to persuade the college to keep the program alive for now.

As long as higher education is a competitive system which enriches educational institutions at the expense of tomorrow’s workforce, who start off their carriers deeply in debt, the idea that a degree is the only way you can pay off your education will steer tomorrow’s graduates towards what they consider to be “high paying jobs;” the focus becomes the money first and the education second.

What would motivate a student to pursue an education in the trades under these circumstance? If our educational system were to be subsidized by the businesses who need skilled workers, it would be a potential step toward killing two birds with one stone. Imagine what would happen if the government offered some real tangible financial support as well!

I have heard some feedback that tradespeople aren’t cut out for, or even interested in, teaching tomorrow’s tradeswomen and men, but I can tell you from my years of experience teaching workshops and working shoulder to shoulder with other tradespeople in teaching environments, more often than not it’s hard to tell whether the teachers or the students are having more fun. Several stories on NPR recently have highlighted grass roots education programs started by men and women in the trades and aimed at elementary or earlier level students. The demand for those programs has been hard to fulfill and the people who have ventured into this self-made educational programming only have praise for the intense interest shown by their students.

I have also heard, as I am sure many of you have, that today’s students aren’t interested in learning much of anything else but modern technology. I’m here to repeat that is our own fault. If we don’t even recognize and respect the tradespeople in our society, how can we possibly instill interest in the trades in our children?

To me, this is the worst form of future blindness imaginable. I have said before, and will say again (you have been forewarned) we need to give our young people the tools and skills to build and conserve their own future. We sure aren’t doing it. If we want to see progress in education, we need to participate in it. It’s one thing to be irresponsible about what kind of world we are leaving behind us. It’s another entirely to allow a failed educational system to damage our children’s ability to do something about it.

Yes, a lot of technology has been good for our world, but much has been quite damaging. By limiting our view of what we think is important to teach our children, we cripple much of their creativity. Kids can be really creative with tools and materials long before they become adept at technology. We need to teach them how to do both.

 

 

 

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Are Tradespeople the Canary in the Cultural Coal Mine?

April 30th, 2014

Since my last blog I have had quite a few conversations with friends and acquaintances about the economics of trades education. As you might expect, it sent me on a bit of a wild goose chase trying to figure out just what the source of the diploma/debt marriage was. After all, isn’t getting an education supposed to be about learning skills which enable you to go out and make a living, not pay off a debt you incur before you start using what you have learned? NPR recently did a series on this subject, but as I listened to it I realized there was something missing. The topic of trades education was not included in the discussions.

Highly skilled and respected tradesperson Robert Yapp Jr. (top right with glasses) teaching a class at his grass roots “Window Restoration College”

Highly skilled and respected tradesperson Robert Yapp Jr. (top right with glasses) teaching a class at his grass roots “Window Restoration College”

Why? Because in the world we live in today, and in particular in the United States, trades education is as good as nonexistent. I didn’t say completely nonexistent. There are several higher education institutions out there valiantly trying to survive in the highly competitive world of higher education, several of which I work with as much as possible. But they themselves will tell you, in the big picture, they can barely even be seen by students graduating from our public school system. Nowhere in the mandate of today’s public schools is there a directive to help young people find their inner tradesperson. Why is that?

I myself have been guilty of lamenting the loss of shop class from the K-through-12 school system, but of late I have begun to question the validity of that lamentation. What was the purpose of shop class in the first place? It didn’t exist in the one-room schoolhouses that were the roots of today’s massive public school system. At school you learned “readin’, writin’ and rithmetic.” At home you learned how to plant a garden, sow a field, weed, milk a cow, change a tire, hammer a nail and everything else needed to eek out an existence. Whether you liked it or not, some of the most important lessons in life came from “doin chores.”

In Early America children were sent to school, if there was one, to learn the things their parents couldn’t teach them at home, didn’t have time to or didn’t feel qualified to. But when it came time to teach a young person to drive a team, swing an axe or push a hand plane; that was done under the guidance of a family member or friend of the family who had those skills. If you think about it, there was a very logical separation of the education of young minds with books and blackboards and the education of young hands and minds with hands-on experience.

A lot has changed since those early days, and the more it changes, the faster it changes. Industrialization was a key component in the changes that took place during and after the American Revolution. As industries grew, fathers, mothers and even children became laborers in the mills and factories that drove the growth of the capitalist economy. And as the roles of early Americans changed so did the role of the public education system. Sending your children off to school became an important option for parents who themselves were going off to work, and as the incomes of entire generations increased, the decision to purchase what you needed, rather than grow it or make it yourself, became part of daily life.

With that transition to buy instead of build came an insidious change in the education of our youth. Parents who used to be able to teach their children how to sew, grow or hoe were losing those very skills and becoming dependent on an education system to not only care for their children while they were at work, but to teach them virtually everything they needed to know. That was when the education train jumped the track. It was being asked to do something it was never designed to do to enable the parents of the children attending the schools to go off and work in the factories.

Don’t get me wrong. The Industrial Revolution didn’t eliminate the need for tradespeople. In its early stages it created a great demand for them. People who understood blacksmithing, building construction and use of hand tools where a valuable asset to the industrialists who were competing to get as much of the money this new economy was creating as they could get their hands on. But the steel we were forging, the buildings we were building and even the tools we were using to do it were changing to suit the needs of industry. And coal was driving the steam engine of that industrial world.

The problem, as it relates to trades education, was the opportunity to learn, standing side by side with a father or friend, how to true a board, forge a latch, sharpen a plane or fix a broken wagon wheel was slowly being lost. If young people were going to learn trade skills it would have to be at school, but schools had never been designed to do that in the first place. Schooling was about studying, memorizing and passing tests. You can’t teach trades that way. Learning a trade requires the experience of doing things wrong so you can learn to do them right. It is a slow and tedious process of teaching both the hand and mind to work together to accomplish something. It is experiential.

As schools began to try to pick up the pieces of the education puzzle, attempts were made to understand just what skills it was important to teach. But the world around them was now much more focused on the need for good factory workers. By the end of the 19th century public educational systems were including a form of trades education called “industrial arts.” Go figure. For a time industry and education were strange bedfellows. The tradesperson of that period was more of a Frankenstein than a master of a trade. Trades education had been co-opted to suit the needs of industry.

Is it any wonder that when America finally started to wake up to the need for preservation it was not an easy task to find tradespeople skilled in traditional building? The tradespeople who built the buildings we endeavor to preserve today had little opportunity to pass that knowledge along to their prodigy. Learning at the side of the master was no longer the norm, and the number of young people who realized the value of doing so had become fewer during the heyday of industrialization. It is little wonder that the group tasked with writing the Whitehill Report came to the conclusion that the traditional trades were dead.

Luckily the move to preserve more of our past has been bringing traditional tradespeople out of the stonework. The damage done by the whole “blue collar/white color” mentality is slowly being reversed. But can we fix the problem by putting shop classes back in public schools? I am here to say no. Today’s factory workers receive on-the-job training provided by their employers. It isn’t the place of the public schools to do it, and the fact is, the type of education provided by them isn’t even suited to teaching trades. Both learning trades and the people who are best suited to learn them require a completely different educational environment than the public schools can provide.

If we want trades education to be available at all age levels we need to build the institutions to make that happen at a grass roots level. People teaching people is in itself a revival of how trades were traditionally taught. If we can make that happen we can sidestep both the daunting task of rebuilding the public school system and the need to buy a diploma with money you haven’t even made yet. I know for a fact this is already happening in many local communities and many well respected tradespeople have joined in to ensure they are part of the revival. We used to know how to teach trades. If we are lucky, maybe it’s similar to riding a bicycle.

 

 

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So, Why Don’t We Build The Way We Used To?

March 28th, 2014

In my last blog we talked about how the evolving economic and class structures are changing not only who we are, but the very world we live in. Why? Why do we find ourselves at the mercy of money instead of money just being another tool in our arsenal? Why can’t we let money be a contributing factor to our ability to ply our trade, instead of a burden that all too often impedes our ability to reach our goals?

A view of Lincoln Cathedral, now over 100 years old and a wonderful part of England's Heritage.

A view of Lincoln Cathedral, now over 1,000 years old and a wonderful part of England’s Heritage.

These are big questions which might require big answers, but maybe not. If we break down the affect that money has on our individual trades, we can come up with a long list of “evils” pretty quickly…… People don’t understand the value of the work I do. People don’t realize that building better is actually less costly in the long run. People don’t have enough money to pay for my work. The banks won’t give anybody a loan these days…..and the list goes on and on.

If you look at all of these “good” reasons tradespeople have trouble making ends meet they all have one thing in common. They are all about money. I will tell you right now, the best tradespeople I know aren’t doing it because they thought it was a good way to get rich (laughter in the background). But there are lots of people out there who think money will make their lives better, and a few of them succeed at getting lots of it, only to realize that what they really need is lots more. Getting rich is not a trade, it’s an ambition which can easily turn into an uncontrollable obsession.

If there were no money, there would be no poor people. Poverty is defined as a level of income. If there were no money, would there be no tradespeople? I think not. The truth is money is not what built the world we live in and unfortunately, as I said before, it is rapidly getting in the way of preserving what we have built. What is less obvious, behind the curtain, is that it is also standing in the way of building the world we should be building. Today most of the “building” we see is about money. We are building for the wrong reason.

As a tradesperson I have the opportunity to work on buildings that were built long before I was born. Currently I’m involved in a project that centers around a house that was built over 350 years ago. How much of what we are building today will be around 350 years from now for someone like me to help preserve? Why not? Because what we are building today is about money not heritage. Now don’t get your skivvies in a bunch, because I know a lot of the people reading this blog are telling themselves that’s not why they build. That’s not why I build either. There lies the problem.

Today tradespeople are not vanishing, but we are an extreme minority. My friend Ken Follett often tells me that trades education is at best a double edged sword. If the tradespeople already in our society can’t find work, why make more of them so there is less work to go around? Because people need to learn why building things well is important, and the adults, for the most part, already know everything. How many people, who are not in the trades, that you know question why we are building a world full of disposable buildings? Not many. We need to grow more.

Sarah Susanka first suggested in her book, The Not So Big House, that one solution to the problem of McMansioning America was not to increase the building budget, but decrease the building. Her logic being if you spend the same amount to build something smaller, you can build it better. This is not such a bad concept, but in my mind, it still falls short of a more elegant solution. It still focuses on the money, not the value of the building, and that value should be based on its life expectancy.

Every time you turn around these days somebody is telling us we are running out of something. Oil. Trees. Water. What’s next on the list? The reality is that we are using more and more resources to create a smaller and smaller future. We can’t focus on what we are leaving for future generations when we are focused on a bunch of throw-away stuff which includes where we shop, work, eat and live. If we want a better world for ourselves and our children, we have to build it, and last time I looked you couldn’t actually build much of anything useful with dollar bills.

I know I just got done talking about the vanishing middle class and the affect it has on our built environment, but aren’t we feeding the monster that is eating the middle class? Every time we bite the bullet to get a job we feed the beast and rob ourselves. In the words of John Ruskin: ” It is unwise to pay too much, but it is worse to pay too little.” By allowing money to be the motivation for anything we do, we run the risk of seeing its value in dollars. If we want to solve the problem of the two-class system, we can’t do it with money. There’s no such thing as trickle down dignity.

I feel more strongly than ever that we have to work our way out of this lack of a future that’s worth heading toward, and part of doing that is in teaching trades and the value of something well built. Yes, we need to rebuild the school systems, but we also need to rebuild our society. If we can create a Main Street program that is about people instead of buildings, then the buildings that we have stand a much better chance of surviving, and the buildings we learn to build again will have something that the ones being built today for the most part don’t have; value. And if we can put value back into our buildings and the people who build them, we will have something of real value to give our children: HERITAGE.

 

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Paradoxes of the Preservation Paradigm

January 20th, 2014

How often do you find yourself wondering why taking care of what we have is a never-ending uphill battle? Every day? Less? More? For me the answer is “more often than I like thinking about.” My grandfather taught me the value of taking good care of the things you own, and I would find it hard to believe that a lot of other grandfathers didn’t do the same, and yet we find ourselves in a world where one of the most important jobs we have is often one we find ourselves unprepared to do. Why?

I’ve talked around this question a lot in previous blogs, and have even taken the time to point out some specific reasons for why I feel this problem exists, but I’m afraid I have to say that more and more I think the problem is with the preservation paradigm itself. I know I harp on the harm using the word preservation in place of conservation has done, but simply pointing out using the wrong word is making light of a much deeper and insidious current in the flow of time. If that was “the” problem, we would have figured out how to fix it by now.

Rather, I feel it’s a problem of class. I’m not saying it has class; I’m saying it is class. Anyone who pays attention to the news, or studies social economics, is aware of the vanishing middle class in America, and for that matter all over the world. We live in a time where wealth has become a weapon and it is being wielded by those who have it to serve their own purposes, rather than the greater good. It’s a problem that is having an enormous detrimental affect on our society, but I’m here to say it is having just as serious of an affect on our built environment.

A simplistic view of what I am talking about is realizing that preservation costs money. Granted, as Donovan Rypkema keeps telling us, there could and should be good business in preservation. When it can be accomplished, putting money into our historic neighborhoods increases property values and provides people with good local jobs that are next to impossible to outsource, but it takes money to get the ball rolling. Money that more and more people who find themselves slipping into poverty just don’t have.

Preservation is, or should be, local. Taking care of your home, and by definition your neighborhood in an urban environment, is the first step in preserving where you live as well as how you live. It isn’t just about taking care of the buildings but taking care of the people who make a group of buildings into a neighborhood. But with individual home ownership on a steady decline the process becomes broken at the very heart. Its human nature (if grandpa taught you well) to take care of the things you own, but what happens when everything is owned by someone else and you just get to use it if you have the money to pay the rent?

We have talked about the vanishing tradesperson in the past, and even discussed whether or not someone could tell a tradesperson if they saw one, but I think there’s more to that subject than meets the eye. If the middle class is vanishing, which class are the tradespeople becoming members of? I’m here to tell you that given the choice, I would rather not see myself as aspiring to the upper class. Luckily, I don’t think I need to hide in a closet when the wagon master drives by extolling “Bring out your rich. Bring out your rich.”

So the plot thickens. We now find ourselves becoming members of a society in which the very place that the tradesperson and master mechanics of the world reside is itself in need of preservation and whose job is it to ensure that happens? Me thinks the Koch Bros. have no dogs in that fight. Rather than seeing a world evolving where the value and status of the tradesperson is understood, we find the tradesperson struggling more than ever just to survive. A lot of the tradespeople I know, myself included, are having trouble remembering the days when we honestly had to tell people, “I should be able to help you out in a few months.” Instead, we have to decide if the land line is even worth keeping just for the memory of when that phone used to ring.

A lot of effort has gone into consciousness raising to make preservation a recognizable mandate within our culture. The “Main Street” program has been working tirelessly to revitalize our historic downtowns and the National Trust’s “This Place Matters” initiative strived to bring awareness of the value of our built environment to individuals and communities, but as usual these programs fall short of making much of a difference in raising the standard of living of the people who make up these communities and neighborhoods. That isn’t their mandate.

I feel that preservation was an important mandate of our culture, and cultures all over the world, through the 18th and well into the 19th century. We understood the value in taking care of what we had and knew how much better it was to keep something useful and working well, rather than having to pay to replace it. The preservation paradigm was a way of life. Building things that were meant to last, or had a known and intended life cycle because of the environment they were built in, or the nature of our pattern of living, just made sense and keeping the knowledge of how was everybody’s business. Today preservation has morphed into a business based on economics instead of common sense.

 

A house built in the Holy Cross Historic District of New Orleans after Katrina during the restoration efforts. None of the historic knowledge of how to build in New Orleans was taken into account. Houses like this, and the ones built by Brad Pitt's charity “Make It Right,” often replaced homes that were a century or more old and now are rotting away only a few years after they were built. Was the knowledge of how to build in that climate not preserved, or did no one understand how to use it?

A house built in the Holy Cross Historic District of New Orleans after Katrina during the restoration efforts. None of the historic knowledge of how to build in New Orleans was taken into account. Houses like this, and the ones built by Brad Pitt’s charity “Make It Right,” often replaced homes that were a century or more old and now are rotting away only a few years after they were built. Was the knowledge of how to build in that climate not preserved, or did no one understand how to use it?

In recent times we spend much more time replacing things than repairing things. Is it any wonder that people become motivated to earn enough money to buy something new rather than putting money into something old? I will always remember the answer I got when I was visiting Germany and had had an opportunity to visit some historic barns and barn-houses. My obvious question was “How old is your barn?” and more often than not the answer would come back “Oh, it’s not really that old, maybe a 100 years or so.” I knew many of those structures were much older than that, but the pride wasn’t in having taken care of something old, but in having something new.

I would like to think that we could either resurrect the preservation paradigm we once understood so well, or create a new one that belongs to everyone, but I have trouble believing that will happen. We see the strength and power of the poor being focused as always on surviving, and more people becoming members of the lower class every day. Preservation, more than ever, appears to most people to be something that is part of a different world than they inhabit. They live on one side of a wall that gets longer and taller everyday and preservation is something the people on the other side do as a way of justifying their place.

I have had a love of old buildings ever since I was a kid. When I had an opportunity to include taking care of old buildings as a part of how I made a living, I felt like one of the luckiest people I knew. I take great joy in fixing things and can honestly say I have saved many old structures from being lost for now. But when people ask me what I do for a living, I know pretty much that I will get a blank stare when I say “I’m in Historic Preservation.” I might as well say “I’m a marble farmer on Mars.” In my world, I have become known as “The Barn Guy.” The funny thing is, I’m the only one that realizes that that’s just one of the many paradoxes of the preservation paradigm.

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Can we see our Conservation Goals when we are Focused on the Distractions?

December 2nd, 2013

One part of my work, a very enjoyable part, is doing structural and condition assessments on old buildings. I talked about the time traveling aspects of this in a recent post, but another curious aspect of this work is how hard it is sometimes, seeing what is right in front of me is. I get caught up in looking at some curious joinery decision made by a builder many generations ago, or by some less than appropriate “repair” that the building has survived. But normally these things become inconsequential when I finally stand back and take in the picture as a whole.

Working with my friend Dan Troth trying to figure out how to reconstruct the historic roof on an early 19th-century barn. The roof was replaced in the 20th century when the barn footprint was expanded, leaving little evidence of the original framing.

Working with my friend Dan Troth trying to figure out how to reconstruct the historic roof on an early 19th-century barn. The roof was replaced in the 20th century when the barn footprint was expanded, leaving little evidence of the original framing.

I think this malady itself is actually part of a much larger picture, which all too often we fail to see. Our natural tendency is to focus our observations on the things we are familiar with, or we think we understand. Unfortunately our own predisposition to look at what’s between the blinders can lead us into situations where we actually misunderstand what we are observing because we think we understand a certain part of it. I don’t believe this is a small problem, limited to our personal views, but rather a larger problem which we fail to comprehend at all because its limits are larger than our field of perspective.

A simple example of what I am trying to articulate was within a story RoyUnderhill told when he was the keynote speaker at the 2005 International Preservation Trades Workshop at Belmont Technical Institute in St. Clairsville, OH. He had been hired by Williamsburg as their lead carpenter and was determined to portray a colonial craftsman as best he could muster. Determined to start by felling trees and converting them to timbers by hand hewing, he went to the historic tool archives at the museum and found an unhandled axe head which had been discovered during a dig in a privy pit.

He asked the village blacksmith if he could reproduce the axe head, which Roy then hafted and went out to fell his first tree with it. Try as he might, the axe failed to give him acceptable results and ended up being so hard to use he took it back to the blacksmith to see what was wrong. The blacksmith told him the reproduction was completely accurate and pointed out to Roy that he now probably understood why the axe had been thrown down the privy in the first place. He was so focused on portraying a traditional tradesperson, that he had not seen the importance in understanding what makes a good working axe. Being a good craftsman requires good tools. A lesson he undoubtedly had had before.

When my own focus on timber framing began, roughly 30 years ago, I found numerous distractions to revel in. The tools themselves where a joy to hold, use and own. Working the wood was something I was pretty familiar with, but manipulating the various timbers, understanding how their life in the forest would affect how they would behave in service, and working the joinery to demanding tolerances became as much an obsession as a passion. I was quite literally so immersed in the process of designing and building timber-frame homes that I had no sense whatsoever of how little I understood about the history, cultural diversity or essence of timber framing itself. My qualifications were rooted in the present, rather than in the past.

When my friend and Timber Framers Guild member Dan Troth suggested I should look into being on the list of timber-frame companies asked to bid on replacing the historic timber frame barn at MalabarFarmsState Park, I realized how important my association with the Traditional Timberframe Research and Advisory Group was. The years I had spent doing “modern” timber framing had given me the skills I needed to layout and cut the timbers, as well as knowing where to source them, but what I was missing was a good understanding of how that work was done 150-200 years ago. The fact the barn had burned, and was then bulldozed and burned again before the replacement work was put out to bid, meant I needed an understanding I did not have of historic building patterns to replace something that had truly vanished.

As my work has evolved, over the last 20 years, into having a focus on restoration, I find that one of the immediate challenges of establishing a good working relationship with a client is trying to get them, and myself, to try to look at the big picture, instead of focusing on the rotted post, or collapsing foundation, or leaking slate roof. Interestingly enough, the process of discovery that follows the realization that something is wrong often causes the building owner to see things that they have never really looked at before. The challenge is to differentiate between what is actually related to the problem and what isn’t.

More often than not, it’s something that has been that way for a long time and has recently come into focus as the owner actually started looking for “problems” that must be related, when in fact they are not. I think the difficulty we all seem to have, to one degree or another, of only seeing what we are focused on, is symptomatic of a cultural malady which we need to rid ourselves of before we can actually make strides in Historic Preservation. Unfortunately our North American perspective doesn’t offer us a viewpoint from a place where preservation or conservation is a part of our make-up. As a young country we did our best to remove ourselves from the cultural bondage of the places we came from in an attempt to build something new with its foundations in freedom rather than heritage. We were almost single minded in our wish to create, not to preserve, as there wasn’t anything we had built to preserve.

In modern day North America we are faced with the challenge of changing our viewpoint. Within the last century the need for preservation/conservation has begun to become a tangible reality. Rather than lose everything we built in our quest to build a new world, we are beginning to see the need to keep some of it as part of our world today and tomorrow; but what do we see when we look at that challenge?

Even as practitioners and technicians we often find ourselves focusing on what we understand, or think we understand. Rather than look at the cultural dynamics of preservation, we find ourselves looking at failing facades, or missing resources of skills and materials, and the bigger picture of how we change who we are so conservation is a part of how we think is overlooked, or worse, invisible.

When the Whitehill Report was submitted to the Trustees of the National Trust for Historic Preservation on April 15, 1968, it contained a significant focus on education in historic preservation. The implementation of this mandate was initially focused on graduate level academic programs and took decades to become part of hands-on trades education programs. It has yet to have any significant impact on K-12 public education. Why is that? I submit it’s because it isn’t visible to the public school programs across America. It has no value because it doesn’t even exist in the minds of the administrators and teachers in K-12, and for that matter, in the vast majority of higher education programs across the land.

If historic preservation is going to become part of the language we speak, we have to teach it to our young people. We need summer school programs and hands-on preservation camps for grade school and high school students. Until we can make historic preservation as important and reading, writing and arithmetic, we won’t be educating students to leave high school looking for a job or a degree in the field. By not making students aware of preservation at a young age we are as good as blinding them to its existence. Their focus will be elsewhere, unless they are lucky enough to learn about it from their parents or peers.

We need a good preservation crime show on television. There are plenty of preservation crimes committed out there. Why isn’t there a show about them? OK I’m kidding, but not a whole lot. Television is one of the biggest distractions out there. If public TV had real preservation shows, not shows about turning historic homes into eyesores in record time, I would watch them, and I’ll bet a lot of other people would too. Eventually we might even begin to talk about preservation as if it was a real part of our world. Eventually it could become a real part of our culture.

I don’t think we have much of a chance at make preservation popular if we don’t take it seriously. I don’t think a protest march would necessarily work all that well, but it would make the news. The truth is we have to make preservation a tangible part of the world we live in. If that is our goal we need to make it into something people can see and understand.

You and I might be able to sit down and enjoy a conversation over a beer about lime mortar, but Uncle Fred and Aunt Wilma would fall asleep. Our distraction with methods and materials has a place, but we need to make sure it doesn’t keep us from seeing the whole picture. Historic preservation is not about saving our built environment first. It is about changing our culture first and then our built environment has a real chance of being saved.

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Is “Preservation” Why Buildings Fall Down?

October 8th, 2013

Obviously the process of preservation by definition is intended to keep buildings from falling down, or more often from being torn down, but just how much damage have we really done by placing the ubiquitous umbrella of “preservation” over the very important part of our economy that involves building conservation? My gut feeling is that if you were to walk down the street in pretty much any city or town in the United States and ask people if they thought this or that historic building was worth saving, a much larger percentage would answer “yes” than if you asked them if the same building was worth preserving.

On the most basic level it’s a matter of linguistics. Pretty much everyone has a definition for the word “save” and, more likely than not, there’s a commonality in those definitions, but the word “preserve” has a less common place in language of our society. For many it brings to mind a canning jar full of pears, while others might be desiring a peach jam on a piece of toast. But for others it’s where old buildings go to die, which in my mind is a very unfortunate thing. Historic districts should be about the continuing usefulness of historic buildings, not about preserving them in a museum environment.

Donovan Rypkema of PlaceEconomics continues to do an amazing job of spelling out the positive economic impact that historic preservation can have, but his audience has to be largely made up of people like you and me who already realize that. There’s no doubt that his message is reaching people who are on the preservation fence and I’m sure a few who never really thought about the concept prior to hearing Donovan speak, but how many people at your son or daughter’s soccer game are hearing the message. More importantly, how many would care?

I know a lot of you reading this have heard me beat the conservation drum for years, and without doubt few of you thought it would be the last time, but let me state clearly that I now see little to no value in trying to fix the mistake we have made in our use of the word “preservation.” It’s too late. Rather I feel we need to step back and take a fresh look at how well we understand the process. If we want to win the war we have named preservation we need a bigger army.

Rudy 46.1

Before and after shots of a repair to a windoor header from an 1837 barn being adaptively reused as a bar/restaurant and rental hall. Traditional wooden repairs are an important part of the timber frame carpenter's repertoire. Before and after shots of a repair to a windoor header from an 1837 barn being adaptively reused as a bar/restaurant and rental hall. Traditional wooden repairs are an important part of the timber frame carpenter’s repertoire.

Or maybe not. Are we indeed in some kind of battle to save our historic buildings? Well, yes. But isn’t that battle something we created? Doesn’t our economic value structure demand that we honor growth as an icon? It is how we interpret growth in our economy that allows us to justify destroying what has already been built so that we can replace it with something new that fits our economic model better. We seem to be very capable of constructing buildings that support the growth of our economy and thus meet the mandate of our economic model, but we aren’t so well versed in how to build a new economic model in which what we have already built supports the growth of our economy.

One very unfortunate side affect of this build/tear down/build matrix is the loss of trades, skills and knowledge of traditional and natural building materials. I’ve talked about this before, but recently I have begun to gain a greater awareness of the insidious nature of how this continues to degrade our culture. It started when President Obama was first elected. The economy was on the ropes and he asked people to use the government website his administration had created to suggest ideas on how to improve our economy and help people who had been hurt by the loss of jobs.

I wrote to President Obama’s administration repeatedly about how trades education through hands-on neighborhood restoration projects could both improve the living conditions and local economies in our cities and towns and provide out-of-work people with new skills which they could continue to use both to improve their own living conditions and to gain meaningful employment. I never received a single response of any kind.

Initially I thought there were probably so many suggestions that mine just got lost in the fracas, but as I continued to watch how our society responded to the ongoing economic distress, I began to realize that I was probably speaking in a language that President Obama’s administration could not understand. My ideas did not represent a way of producing growth in their economic model. Further, they didn’t mean anything to the soccer moms and dads who were trying to figure out where the next paycheck was coming from.

I have begun more and more to realize that it is really less about our loss of knowledge of how historic buildings work and why they have value, and more about our own divestiture of them in our culture. We have sold them to the developers in the name of growth, and in so doing we have divested the knowledge we had of traditional building and used the resources to buy college degrees in anything but.

As my wife Laura and I have redefined ourselves and our company, like so many others, I find myself back on the front lines. I’m in the shop restoring an old building instead of in the office juggling jobs and writing contracts. Not that I don’t do that anymore, it’s just not the full-time job it once was. For me, it’s a good thing.

I really enjoy using the tools and challenging myself to make strong invisible repairs in timbers that have been serving a useful purpose three or four times longer than I have been on this earth. But it also has reminded me of how few people I meet have the slightest idea what I do. By now I would have hoped they could see a trades person at work. They seem to prefer to see the magic and mystery the smoke and mirrors produce over my personal focus on keeping an ancient trade alive. They seem to feel the magic is easier to understand.

My personal feeling is that we shot ourselves in the foot when we decided to call conservation preservation. In its own way, I feel it divided our culture in a way that we pay for every day. Whether it’s seeing a building being lost because the owner understood its value in the money they received from the developer better than the value in its preservation, or in realizing the reason a building cannot be restored is because its steward had no awareness that there was anyone out their that could do the job right. Tradespeople are still struggling for visibility in our society and economy.

If preservation is what we intend, we need to turn it into a core value of our culture, not a flag we carry into a battle of our own making. We need to make preservation part of our national lexicon, rather than a misunderstood term which tends to cast long shadows in short conversations. Better yet, we need to learn how to speak preservation in soccer mom and dad language.

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