The CIVITAS Chronicles

The lunacy that causes cultural institutions to build ever-more-bizarre – and expensive – “iconic” buildings has claimed another victim. Cooper Union in New York City has, for 155 years, not charged tuition for its highly regarded courses in art, architecture and engineering. But that all changes next year – due in large part to the $175-million mortgage the trustees took out to build a ludicrous new engineering building by starchitect Thom Mayne. Students will now need to pony up around $20,000 per year to cover the mortgage and other costs – thereby demolishing the legacy of visionary founder Peter Cooper.

This disaster results from Cooper Union’s trustees being seduced by the siren song of celebrity architecture. The trustees naively believed their fund-raising problems would be solved if they created a “naming opportunity” by constructing a signature building designed by a brand-name architect. The trustees were sure a deep-pocketed donor would come along, anxious to get his or her name affixed to a trophy building. The trustees were wrong; no mega-rich donor materialized. And now the students will pay the price for the trustees’ gullibility.

Of course, Cooper Union is not the first institution to be devastated by pricey starchitecture. The American Center in Paris was an early casualty. The Folk Art Museum in New York is a more recent instance. The museum floated a $32-million bond issue so architects Tod Williams and Billie Tsien could design a trendy new building on Manhattan’s 57^th Street.

The Museum eventually defaulted on its bonds and had to sell the building to the Museum of Modern Art (which wants the land, not the building).  The Folk Art Museum is now reduced to a shadow of its former self in much smaller rented quarters, while the Museum of Modern Art hopes to raze the ill-fated structure – despite howls of protest from fans of Modernism.

The agony of these institutions – and others like them – stems from becoming mesmerized by the “Bilbao Effect.” They chose to ignore Vitruvius’s admonition that a building should embody firmitas, utilitas, venustas; that is, a building should be solidly constructed, appropriate to its function (including the budget) and good-looking. Instead, many of today’s cultural clients look primarily for novelty and provocation.
Unfortunately, when you design a one-off sculpture-building that’s never been seen before, all details have to be devised from scratch. This is both expensive and error prone. Even when clients are rich enough to survive cost overruns, they are often soon confronted with costly surprise repairs.

American taxpayers just discovered this unpleasant fact when Congress was asked to fork over $85 million to re-install the marble veneer panels on the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. The I.M. Pei building consists of complex interlocking shapes and planes. To give the large planar surfaces a smooth unbroken look, the architect devised what he termed a “breakthrough technology” to attach marble veneer panels to the structural core. The innovative system failed, however, and every single veneer panel is being removed from the building and re-attached.

In the meantime, while these expensive and unexpected repairs are being made to the East Wing, which is always lavishly praised by architecture critics, the gallery’s original West Wing sits next door in quiet dignity. The West Wing by John Russell Pope is also sheathed in marble veneer panels – attached using traditional construction methods. Though 37 years older, the West Wing has never needed the extensive repairs its younger sibling is undergoing.
Let’s hope these expensive disasters will inspire clients to pay more attention to the eternal relevance of Vitruvius’s advice: firmitas, utilitas, venustas.

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It’s usually the traditionalists who are pointing out the shortcomings of Modernist glass curtain-wall towers. But in a fascinating turn of events, in the Grand Central area of mid-Manhattan, the “tear ‘em down” charge is now being led by real estate developers. And it’s preservationists who are urging that at least some of the buildings be preserved as existing urban context.

At the root of this unusual role reversal – as you might suspect – are real estate values. The New York City Planning Commission is proposing to rezone East Midtown, a 73-block area surrounding Grand Central Terminal, to permit dramatically taller buildings. The rationale is that New York needs more “Class A” commercial space to remain competitive with other global cities. The prospect of constructing giant new buildings has set off a feeding frenzy in the real estate community.

However, to build colossal new office towers, developers will have to tear down existing buildings – which are a combination of traditional pre-WW II structures, plus many Modernist glass towers built after 1955. Anticipating objections to wide-scale demolition on environmental grounds (“the greenest building is one that’s already built”), the Real Estate Board of New York has cleverly co-sponsored a study that sets out to prove that for many glass curtain-wall commercial buildings constructed between 1955 and 1975, demolition and replacement are the environmentally responsible things to do.

It’s amusing to see the real estate community suddenly discover all the drawbacks of single-glazed glass towers that critics of Modernist orthodoxy have long enumerated: energy inefficiency, inoperable windows, low ceilings and the inability of the structural frames to accommodate the weight of modern insulating skins. To prove that older glass towers should be demolished rather than retrofitted, authors of the new report (“Mid-Century (Un)Modern”) did a detailed analysisof one of Manhattan’s better-built single-glazed glass towers: 675 Third Ave. (see image).

In analyzing 675 Third Ave., the authors first considered what could be accomplished via energy-conserving retrofits. Then they looked at totally replacing the existing FAR 15 building with a new FAR 21.6 building that raised floor-to-floor heights from 11.5 ft. to 14 ft. – and which added 44% more floor space. Surprise! They concluded that the replacement building was the energy-responsible alternative. The report asserts that even taking into account the embodied energy in the older tower, energy savings in the new building would pay back total energy costs of the bigger replacement building in about 20 years. (Of course, many skeptics doubt that the projected energy savings would be as rosy as predicted.)

Also left unsaid in the report was the effect of height. It’s estimated that the new tower – with 44% more space and its 14-ft. floor-to-floor heights – would mean replacing a 385-ft.-high building with one approximately 560 ft. high. Height increases of this magnitude throughout the zone would dramatically deepen the “dark canyon” effect.

To their credit, the report authors at Terrapin Bright Green LLC did concede that traditional pre-WW II commercial buildings with “mass wall” construction, high ceilings, smaller windows and natural ventilation are better candidates for energy-efficient retrofits than are first-generation glass curtain-wall structures. Thus the older traditional buildings were exempted from the report’s general conclusion that it’s earth friendly to tear down and build anew. Even so, many preservationists worry that the nuances in this study will be ignored and that developers will be targeting every older building in the 73-block zone for the wrecking ball.

The best commentary on these massive proposed changes was provided by architect and urban historian, Robert A.M. Stern. He points out that the new zoning would double the permissible floor area on some sites – and allow some buildings to soar as much 1,300 ft. – dwarfing the Chrysler Building at 1,046 ft. And in all the excitement about giant new buildings, no one is talking about new infrastructure – subway stations, escalators, water, sewer, electrical service and open space – that would be needed to accommodate thousands of additional office workers.

As Robert Stern reminds us: Runaway real estate development is not a substitute for thoughtful, holistic urban planning.

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The change is quite amazing. A year ago, it looked like Frank Gehry’s proposal for the Eisenhower Memorial on the National Mall was a done deal and construction was set to begin. But now critics of Gehry’s ill-considered plan (this writer among them) have reason to hope that a new, better plan is being called for. Over the past months, objections to the Gehry proposal have mounted as details of the planned monument filtered out to the public. They became so noticeable that Rep. Rob Bishop from Utah has now introduced legislation calling for a brand-new design competition and the elimination of nearly $100 million in financing for the Gehry plan. Essentially, Congress seems ready to call for a “do-over.”

In testimony before Rep. Bishop’s subcommittee on Public Lands and Environmental Regulation, most supporters of the Gehry plan did not laud specifics of the proposal but rather fell back on the “appeal to authority,” the essence of which is: Gehry is a genius; therefore his design must be wonderful. This line of reasoning was epitomized by the letter that the American Institute of Architects (AIA) filed with the subcommittee.

The letter stated that “the AIA doesn’t offer any assessment on whether the Eisenhower Memorial Design is good or bad.” Nevertheless, the AIA’s letter insists that the legislation to halt funding for the Gehry plan “ . . . is nothing more than an effort to intimidate the innovative thinking for which our profession is recognized at home and around the globe.” The AIA’s position seems to be that even if the monument’s design is bad, taxpayers should fund it because it is “innovative.”

The AIA’s letter was at least civil and professional. Other proponents, such as Christopher Knight, architecture critic for the Los Angeles Times, got downright nasty about opponents of the Gehry plan. Mr. Knight became especially apoplectic over testimony offered by Justin Shubow on behalf of the National Civic Art Society (NCAS). But instead of refuting criticisms of the memorial’s design and its selection process, Knight let loose an ad hominem rant about the opponents, accusing them (among other things) of a “McCarthyite attack” and “shrieking like Hecuba.”

While supporters have been vague on the merits of the sprawling monument, critics have been quite specific about what’s wrong, not only with the design, but also with the secretive process that produced it. Testimony from the NCAS offered a detailed dissection of the opaque selection process that picked Gehry and also provided an extensive analysis of the design’s aesthetic and symbolic shortcomings, dubious cost estimates, longevity problems with specified materials and even life safety issues posed by chunks of ice falling from the metal mesh “tapestries” that are part of Gehry’s design. An even more extensive analysis of the memorial’s flaws is contained in the NCAS’s special online report.

Even though the arguments offered by opponents of the Gehry scheme seem quite persuasive, they might not have thwarted the project’s momentum were it not for the outspoken opposition of the Eisenhower family – especially Susan Eisenhower, Ike’s granddaughter. Ms. Eisenhower offered several well-reasoned misgivings about the design, the most important of which is that the memorial does not focus on Eisenhower’s towering achievements during World War II and his two terms in the White House.

When asked what type of memorial she would envisage for her grandfather, Susan Eisenhower said, “The Lincoln Memorial is a wonderful example of strength and theme. And this is what I want this memorial to be – an inspiration for who we are as a people, and what we accomplished during those years.”

That sure sounds right to me.

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It’s a joy to discover something that turns conventional wisdom on its head. I made such a discovery this week.

Architecture critics normally apply breathless adjectives such as “bold,” “innovative” and “forward-looking” only to creations by their favorite Modernist “starchitects.” Likewise, when confronted by traditional architecture, these same critics automatically reach into their bag of negativity and yank out tired put-downs like “insipid,” “stale,” “Disney-esque” and the ultimate insult: “historical pastiche.” Such knee-jerk assessments lie at the heart of mainstream conventional wisdom.

Having grown weary of these ideologically driven judgments, I was delighted by a small compendium of traditionally based architecture that recently came to hand. Thumbing through its pages, I realized that any objective observer would also call the historically influenced work therein “bold, innovative and forward-looking.” And the work presented is also entitled to additional adjectives like “rational,” “harmonious” and “context sensitive.” The buildings display novel variations on traditional patterns, imparting not only a contemporary feel, but also a consistent attitude toward form, so the viewer never finds them alien or disorienting.

The compendium I’ve been looking at is a book titled Evidence, which is a survey of work from Robert A.M. Stern Architects. I normally don’t pay much attention to architectural monographs because although they are pretty to look at, most don’t have much to teach. This book is different because the focus is on specific elements of buildings, rather than sweeping panoramas. The work incorporates the basic principle that underlies all successful traditional architecture: precedent plus invention. From the Greco-Roman era through the Renaissance and into our present time this transformative concept has guided traditional design. The architecture illustrated in this new volume refutes beyond question the Modernist assertion that historically influenced design is merely feeble imitation.

The book’s sections on entryways, windows, stairways, porches, façade articulation and passive energy conservation provide a post-graduate course on how imagination can integrate the past with the present. (Several photos of Stern’s work from the book are shown at left.) Robert Stern describes his firm’s design process as “a dialogue with the past carried on in the present with the future in mind.” The work proves that traditionalism is infinitely flexible and can readily adapt to different needs and locales – without resorting to tortured geometry that creates dissonant, dehumanizing spaces.

One thing that Stern’s innovative architecture lacks is shock value. To me, that is high praise. But the sad truth is that many civic and cultural institutions are still seduced by the allure of the ludicrous – and are awarding commissions only to designers who generate controversy and notoriety. Recent example: For creation of a new Holocaust Memorial in Columbus, OH, the finalists are Daniel Libeskind, Ann Hamilton and Jaume Plensa. When the finalists are a radical Modernist, a multi-media performance artist, and an avant-garde sculptor, it’s obvious that the capacity to provoke is the main selection criterion. And when the American Institute of Architects (AIA) proudly describes its selection for the 2013 AIA Gold Medal as “the bad boy of Los Angeles architecture,” it’s clear the establishment is still determined to reward bombast rather than civility.

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The moral of the following tale is: Context is everything! I was dismayed – as were many of my neighbors – to see a discordant new infill townhouse (see Fig. 1) under construction in the middle of a row of Brooklyn’s traditional brownstones. (The construction site is not in an official historic district and thus is not under landmark protection.)  It was evident that the client and the architect wanted their design to be starkly differentiated from the other Victorian brownstones on the block. They wanted to make a bold personal statement – and they certainly succeeded. The structure demonstrates that the designer disdains contextual architecture, which would reinforce the existing character of the entire block, preferring instead the triumphant projection of individual ego.

Ironically, the adjacent historic brownstones at which the new townhouse thumbs its nose unwittingly also serve the architect’s intentions extremely well. The rhythmic facades of the traditional brownstones serve as a frame that sets off the Modernist design in bold relief and emphasizes the discontinuity of style. However, if looked at as a piece of stand-alone architecture – without the contrast of the Victorian brownstones – the new townhouse would appear rather banal, little more than a quotation from Modernist memes that have been around for many decades. But when the infill building is contrasted against the row of old Italianate houses, the new building takes on a radical demeanor. The infill townhouse needs the historic context to achieve its “shock of the new” effect.

Just how badly Modernist design requires historic context to achieve its full attention-getting potential is shown in Fig. 2, a development of new canal houses in the Java Island district of Amsterdam in the Netherlands. The developer wanted a totally “modern” look for his development, so he commissioned several architects to come up with “advanced” designs for a series of canal houses. The developer’s stated goal was “differentiation and unity.” He certainly got differentiation. And I suppose there is “unity” in that they are all obviously based on contemporary Modernism. But the composition lacks Modernism’s essential “shock of the new” effect. Because they are all intended to be avant-garde, none seems particularly radical or noteworthy.

Beyond that, lacking any shared design principles, the row is visual chaos, a contradictory jumble of geometric shapes and windows set in seemingly random patterns. If any one of these Modernist houses was inserted into a row of traditional Dutch canal houses (Fig. 3), it would indeed appear like innovative design. But when all these new canal houses are presented side-by-side, the grouping appears merely anarchic and purposeless, rather than progressive and forward-looking.

Compare the Java Island row with the row of traditional Amsterdam canal houses in Fig. 3. Each residence is different, with its own distinct look and style. But because they all employ a traditional three-bay façade design, the ensemble displays unified character and harmony. The underlying design tradition provides the “differentiation and unity” that are lacking in the Java Island row shown in Fig. 2. Now, if you plopped one of those Modernist canal houses into this traditional grouping, the new house would definitely detract from the unified character of the row. But the owner would at least have the ego-satisfaction of being really different.

 

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Many of my traditionalist colleagues have always preached that it’s counter-productive to attack Modernism.  But it is increasingly apparent that this live-and-let-live attitude is not reciprocated.  A recent event made it clear that much of what passes for architectural criticism these days is driven more by theology than by rational analysis. The majority of mainstream architectural critics are Modernists whose primary mission is to enforce Modernist orthodoxy.  These critics are the Taliban of the architectural world.

This became blazingly obvious to me after getting my initial look at the context-sensitive design proposed by Robert A.M. Stern Architects for the new Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia.  Because the new museum building is intended to be a good citizen and fit sensitively into its historic Philadelphia neighborhood, I knew instantly that the architecture critics would hate Stern’s design.  Sure enough, the reviews were almost uniformly negative because the design was not “revolutionary.” The carping critics – uniformly Modernists – were evaluating the design not by thoughtful analysis of the building’s role in its urban context, but rather by what amounts to a religious litmus test. If a design does not exude sufficient quantities of shock-and-awe, it fails to pass the Modernist test — and thus is not worthy of the name Architecture (with the capital “A”).

Modernists seized control of the architectural academies in the mid-twentieth century and converted them essentially into madrasas of Modernism – a process that was documented in Malcolm Millais’s book, Exploding the Myths of Modern Architecture. The new architectural elite banned not only the Beaux-Arts curriculum, but also any references to over two millennia of architectural tradition. Soon, their acolytes issued forth into the world to spread the gospel of novelty.  Some of those disciples advanced to the high ground of architectural criticism – and from those lofty pulpits have ever since imposed the rules of Modernist architectural orthodoxy on an unwilling but helpless public. Architectural juries, commissions on public monuments, governmental bodies, corporate clients, cultural institutions and anyone else commissioning new public buildings are keenly aware of the media scorn that will be heaped upon them by the critics if they come up with the “wrong answer.”   And the wrong answer is any design that contains a hint of traditional influence.  Fear of ridicule is the powerful force that ensures conformity to the Modernist credo in the public realm.

Interestingly, the one sector that has largely escaped this fundamentalist tyranny is residential architecture.  Private clients overwhelmingly opt for traditional designs when commissioning homes for their own comfort and pleasure. Their private nature renders them immune from denunciation by the fundamentalist mullahs. Usually, only clients and architects hoping to have the “House of the Month” in Architectural Record opt for austere, hard-edged Modernism or some form of “blobitecture.”

Questions That Are Never Asked
Architecture is a public and social art.  As such, it should have qualities that relate to the humans who interact with it.  It seems reasonable to expect that when a new project is undergoing critical review, people would ask questions such as:  Does this building . . .

• provide a pleasing and healthy environment for its users?
• function efficiently and economically?
• enhance and harmonize with its surroundings?
• create a pleasant experience for passersby?
• demonstrate responsible use of the earth’s resources?

Rarely are such questions asked.  Rather, when a new building is being reviewed by mainstream architectural critics, the basic issue is: Does this design look totally new?  Novelty is what critics celebrate; little attention is paid to how the structure relates to people and the community.  The question of artistic beauty is never raised.   The First Commandment of the Modernist Holy Book reads: It is forbidden that any building show a connection to architecture built prior to 1920.  This prohibition against historical precedent and ornament is all that is left of the well-meaning combination of scientific and social justice principles that undergirded original Modernist architectural theory.

Today, the idealistic social principles of Modernism have been long forgotten.  All that remains is the worship of boundary-breaking design for its own sake – and the abhorrence of any reference to historical styles. Any design that violates these edicts is blasphemy and is damned with the most devastating pronouncement a critic can deliver: “historical pastiche!”

Ironically, it is Robert Stern himself who has had the greatest success in bridging this religious divide.  He views Modernism – and all the other subsequent “-isms” — merely as part of one long architectural tradition and works with Modernism as a style, rather than as a repository of divinely revealed truths.  When appropriate to the context, Stern has designed Modernist buildings that have drawn praise from the very same critics who slap the dreaded “pastiche” label on his traditionally influenced work.

Outlasting the Taliban
Alas, not much can be done with today’s architectural Taliban.  They believe what they believe, and psychologists have shown conclusively that reason cannot dislodge firmly held beliefs. No amount of evidence and dialogue is likely to deter them from their mission to enforce Modernist dogma.

Over the long term, our goal must be to reach young architects before their belief systems become deeply rooted. That was how the Modernists eventually gained control over the highest levels of the architectural establishment.  Some progress is already being made. The Institute of Classical Architecture & Art offers a wide and growing array of continuing-education programs in classical design through its New York City headquarters and 15 regional chapters.  Yale University’s School of Architecture, under Stern’s direction, is now exposing its students to both sides of architecture’s religious schism. And architecture schools such as Notre Dame and the University of Miami offer instruction in traditional design and urbanism.

As individuals, we should also seize every opportunity to give lectures and teach classes as visiting faculty. Education is the most powerful weapon with which to counteract the strict fundamentalism preached by the architectural Taliban.  It’ll take years.  But it can be done.

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Reviews of the proposed new home for the Museum of the American Revolution show that it’s not just Washington, DC, politicians who are locked in dogmatic struggles. For the new museum, Robert A.M. Stern Architects has produced a traditionally inspired design that fits seamlessly into Philadelphia’s historic core. But, predictably, Stern’s context-friendly proposal has drawn a chorus of derision from ideologically opposed critics.

The museum’s future home faces the Classical 1795 building by Samuel Blodgett that houses the First Bank of the United States. The new museum is also just steps away from other historic sites, such as Independence Hall, Carpenters’ Hall, the Liberty Bell Center, the U.S. Custom House and William Strickland’s Merchants’ Exchange.

Conscious of the cultural and architectural significance of the museum’s historic neighborhood, Stern’s design employs a restrained Classicism sympathetic to the traditional architecture that abounds in the museum’s historic setting. In further elaborating on his design goal, Stern stated in the New York Times, “What we’re going for is a building that fits in and reflects the general character of the historic district, and which expresses the period of the American Revolution – but in a fresh new way for the 21st century. We want to make a building that is inviting to the public, but dignified, in which the architecture supports the intellectual and cultural mission of the institution.”

Stern’s contextual design is a perfect embodiment of the New Conservation Ethic, for which Steven W. Semes so forcefully argues in his new book, The Future of the Past.  Semes makes a convincing case that throughout history, the most successful urban spaces – defined as places people seek out because they make them feel good – are those areas where individual buildings work together to impart a harmonious character to those places. New construction in such places, Semes goes on to argue, should enhance and reinforce the special local character – not detract from it. Stern’s proposed design certainly follows that specification.

Nonetheless, Stern’s desire to be a good urban citizen drew predictable, disparaging reviews from Modernist critics who bemoan the building’s lack of shock and awe. The attacks were best summed up by a headline from the Philadelphia Inquirer: “Let’s make it revolutionary.” The review even goes so far as to bring up that hoary chestnut: The building does not “speak in the language of its time.”

Other critics chimed it with such easily anticipated denunciations as: “It suffers from all the weaknesses of Stern’s neo-traditionalist design philosophy.” “The revolutionary spirit seems to be conspicuously absent in Stern’s conservative rehashing of Georgian-style architecture.” “This building, with its unsubtle pastiche and imitation materials, does nothing but hold us back.”

Implicit in all the complaints from Modernist critics is their belief that true Architecture (with the capital “A”) should stand in bold opposition to traditional buildings. (However, to make visual affronts more palatable to the public, designers will assert with a straight face that an adversarial new building is “in dialogue” with its neighbors.) These critics are fixated on visual flamboyance without any regard for the making of humane public spaces.

Only critic David Brussat, writing in the Providence Journal, properly understands the building in its broadest context: “But today, the classical revival is as revolutionary as any movement America has seen in recent decades. Bob Stern is among its leaders. His museum design, carried out with RAMSA partners Alexander P. Lamis and Kevin Smith, reflects its spirit. This is what its critics, with their narrow-minded sense of the revolutionary, refuse to acknowledge.”

The commentary on Stern’s design for this new museum underscores how predictably reactionary most architectural criticism is today – and how locked in it is to outmoded Modernist ideology. Whenever a new traditionally influenced design appears – no matter how appropriate – you know in advance what the critics will say. The only unknown is how many times in the scathing reviews the epithet “pastiche” will be hurled.

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Like a vampire that won’t stay dead, the bizarre urge to strip plaster off brick walls walks the land once again. The yearning for “exposed brick” was a renovation fad in the 1960s and ’70s, but I thought the silliness that begot this folly had been laid to rest.

As early as 1973, in the pages of Old-House Journal, I had outlined both the aesthetic and practical reasons for leaving plaster on brick walls. And, for a while, the craze seemed to have subsided. But just as the full moon causes Dracula to rise once again from his coffin, so The Bare Brick Mistake has returned to cast its spell over a new generation of renovators.

My colleague Paul Kitzke called my attention to the latest egregious example. This article in the New York Times tells the story of David and Liz and their renovation of an abandoned wreck of a townhouse in Brooklyn. The couple seems sensitive to the history of the house and treasures what little remains of its original architectural details. But – in a triumph of fad over common sense – they chipped the plaster off their brick walls.

The reporter from the Times described the result in glowing terms:  ”The brick hidden behind plaster walls was exposed, as was the brick beneath the stucco on the facade.” The writer makes it sound like some sinister fellow deliberately hid a beautiful brick wall behind a coat of plaster as a deliberate act of aesthetic sabotage. Nothing could be further from the truth: Plaster was originally applied to those brick walls for very sound, practical reasons.

1. Old townhouse party walls are made of soft, porous brick sloppily laid up because the masons knew the walls would be covered with plaster.

2. Once stripped, the exposed brick both collects dust and sheds its own mortar and brick particles.

3. If the bare brick is covered with a sealer to retard exfoliation, the sealer imparts a plastic-looking sheen that detracts from the desired natural, rustic appearance of the brick.

4. The plaster acts as an extra layer of insulation and protection in case of a fire in the row house next door.

5. Worst of all, the lack of plaster greatly increases sound transmission from the adjacent building. If your neighbor also exposes the brick on his or her side of the party wall, you can conduct a conversation through the bricks.

David and Liz may also discover that the stucco on the building’s exterior had been applied to prevent water infiltration through the outside brick caused by wind-driven rain.

The passion for exposed brick had largely vanished by the end of the 1990s as the various problems posed by bare brick became apparent, and many realized the whole fad was a mistake. However, these manias run in cycles, and it looks like the lust for exposed brick has risen from the dead once again. Thus, a whole new flock of renovators is doomed to discovering bare brick’s many nuisances all over again. When that happens, perhaps The Bare Brick Mistake can be interred forever — with a stake through its heart!

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The very success of the old-house revival may be causing great harm to the historic nature of old houses themselves. That alarming situation is certainly emerging in brownstone Brooklyn,  and I wonder if others are observing the same phenomenon in other parts of the U.S.

This issue came into sharp focus by activity just a few blocks from my home in Brooklyn’s Park Slope section. A young couple has just purchased an 1890s brownstone that had all of its original interior detail intact. But instead of rejoicing in its pristine Victorian elegance, the couple brought in an architect who has gutted the entire house, replacing finely detailed woodwork and plasterwork with a minimalist Modernist interior.

This is no isolated phenomenon. Throughout the “Brownstone Belt,” young buyers are “modernizing” their newly purchased historic row houses. 

Here’s the kind of thing that’s happening. After paying over $1 million to buy the house, an architect is hired to remake it completely. Any vintage wainscoting and architectural millwork go into the dumpster at the curb – followed by all the lath and plasterwork.

All windows are replaced, enlarged or both. Some floors are removed altogether to create double-height rooms. Many, if not all, interior walls are removed, and the back masonry wall is torn out and replaced with an all-glass “window wall.”  Plaster is chipped off the brick common walls to create a rustic “bare brick” look (thereby vastly increasing sound transmission to and from the neighbors).  A rooftop bulkhead is added for the elevator (an essential!). The building is expanded with a rear addition to accommodate the gym, dog-grooming room, sauna and spa that are also must-haves.
 
Even in historic districts, just about all these actions are legal. But, to me, most of them register as cultural crimes. If a buyer wants modern amenities, why not get them in any of the hundreds of new condo buildings where these features are built in? Why destroy a historic building’s irreplaceable craftsmanship and construction materials in pursuit of today’s transitory Modernist fashions?
 
This insensitivity to historic interiors has roots in the very success of the brownstone revival. In the 1960s and ’70s, brownstone pioneers (I was one) bought old run-down row houses because no one else wanted them and prices were cheap. We couldn’t afford expensive makeovers, and, in the process of modest DIY renovation and restoration, we learned to love and respect the historic character of these old houses. The concept of stewardship emerged naturally.
 
Over several decades, this restoration activity also created pleasant, livable, human-scale neighborhoods that eventually became fashionable, and prices began to soar. As a result, most of today’s buyers who are paying seven figures for a brownstone see themselves as merely buying a desirable community – not a historic one. These young buyers have money, know what they want – and want it now. They outline their ideas for an extreme makeover to their architect before ever moving in. Very few have any concept of stewardship of historic architecture, and, indeed, once the interior is gutted, there is little worthwhile to preserve for future generations. The old building henceforth will be merely an envelope to contain a succession of makeovers in whatever fashion is current.
 
William Morris declared in 1889: “These old buildings do not belong to us only. They belong to our forefathers, and they will belong to our descendants unless we play them false.”
 
This stewardship concept has clearly not penetrated many of today’s old-house buyers in Brooklyn. Is it that way in other parts of the U.S.? Please let me know in the comments section. Thanks!

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An abandoned building in the village of Goshen, NY, is in the middle of a strange battle over whether the structure should be restored or torn down. What makes this fight unusual is the way opposing sides line up: Context-sensitive preservationists are on the side saying “tear it down,” while among those urging the building’s preservation is a taxpayer group that normally has little interest in historic architecture.

The building at the center of this controversy is the Orange County Government Center situated on Goshen’s Main Street. The structure was completed in 1971 to a design by then-starchitect Paul Rudolph and is considered by many to be a masterpiece of the Brutalist style. The World Monuments Fund has even placed it on its watch list of threatened cultural heritage sites in need of protection.

Although considered an architectural icon by acolytes of Modernism, in many ways the Government Center is a hard building to love. For openers, it is despised by many local residents because it is so out of character with the prevailing architectural context of the community, which consists largely of vernacular buildings from the eighteenth to the early twentieth century. So when Edward A. Diana, the executive for Orange County, declared that he wanted to demolish the structure, many local residents cheered him on.

Diana’s decision was not based primarily on architectural taste, however, but rather on operational and maintenance problems. The Rudolph building has 87 individual flat roofs, which have been prone to leaks since the building opened. The many changing levels of the interior mean it is not friendly to the disabled, and the single-glazed windows make the building expensive to heat and cool. The last straw occurred last September when heavy rains flooded the basement and the building was evacuated permanently. Diana sees the structure as one big maintenance headache and wants it torn down to be replaced by a new, larger structure that is more in keeping with the town’s architectural character.

The current dispute is whether it is more cost effective to renovate and expand the 1971 building or to tear it down and replace it. A preliminary report by the county estimated that a new, larger building would cost $136 million, while a renovation of the Rudolph building would run $67 million. However, the taxpayer group disputes the projections, claiming that the costs of an entirely new complex are under estimated, while the estimates for renovating the old building are inflated.

Most interesting of all is the way the taxpayer group also embraces the language of sustainability and environmental costs in making the case for recycling the old building.

Myrna Kemnitz, a county legislator, puts it this way: “We must contemplate a realistic cost of asbestos detection, abatement and containment for this building. If there is asbestos in the concrete, in concrete is the best containment place for it to remain. Then there is the charge for cartage of the rubble to a landfill and the reckoning of the space it will take up, and restoration/renovation uses far less energy than tearing down and building anew. Environmentally, retrofitting is far kinder than demolishing and building anew.”

It is heartening to see the language of sustainability being injected into mainstream discourse. For me personally, if environmental costs were not a factor, I would gladly urge the demolition of the existing Rudolph building. Yes, it is a historic architectural artifact. But it was a mistake to place such an aggressively non-contextual building in that picturesque town in the first place. As Steve Semes argues so persuasively in his new book, The Future of the Past, preserving the existing special character of a place should be the primary factor guiding any new construction in older neighborhoods.

But as legislator Kemnitz points out, we’re not starting with a clean slate here; hundreds of tons of concrete have already been poured. So if we believe all the things we say about adaptive reuse, embodied energy and recycling old buildings, I reluctantly conclude that the environmentally responsible thing to do is see if there are cost-effective ways the 1971 Rudolph building can be reused. Globally, we’ve reached a point where environmental costs trump aesthetic taste.

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