The City and the City: Preservation of two historical typologies
Humanistic approaches to sustainable architecture, NTUST, 2017
Introduction
One important factor in what makes a house a home is time. Homes are not designed and built in an instant; they evolve over time. A modern building, like modern art or music, might appear strange and foreign to many people at first, but as people get accustomed to them they become more familiar. We affix our own connotations to them, and the number and strength of these connotations increase over time, until eventually it feels like the building, once new, has always been there, as an integral part of its environment. These connotations are grounded in our experiences, and old buildings are full of different connotations to many people, and if they are torn down, it is as if they are ripped out of people’s lives and memories, disturbing what feels like the natural order of things.
A brand-new building, however, lacks some of these historical connotations, and can therefore feel alien. However, even new buildings elicit emotional and aesthetic responses from observers, as each building incorporates visual elements from previous buildings. You can look at a brand-new house and still guess its functions, as it consists of the same elements as other houses we have seen before.
Humanistic approaches to sustainable architecture, NTUST, 2017
Introduction
One important factor in what makes a house a home is time. Homes are not designed and built in an instant; they evolve over time. A modern building, like modern art or music, might appear strange and foreign to many people at first, but as people get accustomed to them they become more familiar. We affix our own connotations to them, and the number and strength of these connotations increase over time, until eventually it feels like the building, once new, has always been there, as an integral part of its environment. These connotations are grounded in our experiences, and old buildings are full of different connotations to many people, and if they are torn down, it is as if they are ripped out of people’s lives and memories, disturbing what feels like the natural order of things.
A brand-new building, however, lacks some of these historical connotations, and can therefore feel alien. However, even new buildings elicit emotional and aesthetic responses from observers, as each building incorporates visual elements from previous buildings. You can look at a brand-new house and still guess its functions, as it consists of the same elements as other houses we have seen before.
Juhani Pallasmaa writes in The Eyes of the Skin (2012) that “We have a mental need to grasp that we are rooted in the continuity of time, and in this man-made world it is the task of architecture to facilitate this experience”. When looking at discussions in the media where non-architects discuss their architectural surroundings, it seems many people would prefer houses that look familiar, to a house that looks too “strange” or “modern”. Others will appreciate a house that manages to surprise them, and enjoy being challenged, aesthetically and intellectually, and forces them to consider what a house is or should be.
Yet others will imprint negative connotations to older buildings on accord of their previous experiences. Maybe they grew up in a dilapidated neighborhood and are delighted to move to a modern apartment block. Some traditional and/or vernacular houses lack modern amenities, like running water or air conditioning. The comfort of modern living is something many of us take for granted, and therefore we romanticize vernacular architecture as a symbol of an easier past, that in reality was no easier than the present.
But by modernizing and renovating old buildings as opposed to tearing them down and building something new, the architectural environment retains a lot of the connotations that otherwise would disappear. Adaptive re-use preserves our sense of “continuity of time”, and is in most cases also better for the environment. This continuity of time is a basis for our relationship with our surroundings, and helps us feel at home.
In this essay, I wish to discuss and compare some examples of the fight to preserve traditional architecture in two of the places I know best: my home country of Norway, and China, in which I have spent some time. I will focus on the use and preservation of traditional architecture in Trondheim, Norway and Beijing, China, and how some specific areas and typologies have evolved over time; namely Norwegian laborer’s log houses in Bakklandet, Trondheim, and hutongs in the Drum and Bell Tower area north of the Forbidden City in Beijing. These typologies are all adapted to their respected climates and societies. But this adaptation is not something that was set in stone when they were built, but has happened over time. Both areas are or have been threatened by demolition, but parts of them have been preserved and modernized, and are now popular and iconic parts of their respective cities.
Theory
Preserving a city’s signs of history is important for the identity of its inhabitants. Being reminded of the passing of time gives a notion of your place in history, as a part of something greater than yourself. Working to preserve that history brings people together, and creates a sense of community. “Cultural heritage, by mobilizing people around its care and management, brings a sense of purpose and chances for dialogue and social cohesion into people’s lives. And social cohesion, as estimated by researchers in terms of social participation, capacity to cooperate and trust, has a high correlation with the human conception of development” (Bandarin, 2011). Preserving cultural heritage can also provide other benefits, such as job and household income creation, job training, city center revitalization, heritage tourism, increase in property values, small business incubation, compatibility with modernization and compatibility with evolution, product differentiation and import substitution (Gražulevičiūtė, 2006).
According to Bandarin (2011), culture is not static, but ever changing and adapting in meetings with other cultural inputs. This change is accelerating as globalization makes the world smaller, and makes it even more important to preserve local particularities. It is the differences between cultures that makes any place unique, and this uniqueness creates a sense of identity, but is also a driving force behind tourism. Cultural heritage is therefor also important for economic sustainability, as it generates financial income.
The preservation of cultural heritage is vital for a city’s identity, but with that it is important to understand what cultural heritage is. As Jie Li show in her book “Shanghai Homes: Palimpsests of Private Life” (2015), cultural heritage is constantly created and re-created, as though it was a canvas that is used and overwritten again and again. To try to preserve an image of it at one single point in time in history, would be to ignore everything that has happened before and after that point. This is why “historical” areas that ignore recent history often feel fake and contrived. The most enjoyable old towns and historical areas are those that have been in continuous use, and that manage to show that use, and not just act as postcards from a bygone era.
Photo: Riksarkivet & Statsarkivet
Bakklandet
Bakklandet is today a popular hangout for both locals and tourists, with its many shops and cafés, and picturesque timber buildings. But this was not the case fifty years ago, when the same buildings were deemed worthless because of their old age. It was a poor area, where most houses lacked indoor plumbing and were poorly maintained. The area was also overpopulated, with more than 30 people living in spaces that today would seem small for an average Norwegian single family of four (bakklandet.info).
Bakklandet is today a popular hangout for both locals and tourists, with its many shops and cafés, and picturesque timber buildings. But this was not the case fifty years ago, when the same buildings were deemed worthless because of their old age. It was a poor area, where most houses lacked indoor plumbing and were poorly maintained. The area was also overpopulated, with more than 30 people living in spaces that today would seem small for an average Norwegian single family of four (bakklandet.info).
Bakklandet was originally not part of the city center, but was established on the outside of the city in the 1600s. Trondheim city center is surrounded by the river Nidelva, and was at that time getting overcrowded. As a mostly timber city it was also frequently ravaged by fires, and so, to prevent further disasters, the storing of flammable materials was outlawed in the storehouses on the city side of the river. Merchants therefore set up storehouses on the east side of the river, in the Bakklandet area. Industry was also established here, and people from the countryside moved their houses to the area behind the storehouses to work in the shipyards, brickworks and ironworks, or set up shops for the other inhabitants. This was common practice as the city grew, as log houses are easy to dismantle and rebuild at new locations.
After a particularly devastating fire, a new city plan for Trondheim was introduced in 1681, with wide boulevards to prevent fires from spreading. As Bakklandet was not officialy part of the city it was not included in the city plan, and therefore developed more organically. In this way, it demonstrates how the city was (dis-)organized before the city plan of 1681.
In the 1960s the area was still considered to be outside of the city, and the municipality government wanted to tear it down to build a motorway, do divert traffic outside of the city center. The economy was growing, and there was an optimistic view in of the future and anything new. Old houses had no intrinsic value, and stood in the way of further development. This view threatened several old neighborhoods in Trondheim, and seems to have been prevalent by many people at the time.
But some of the inhabitants protested, and allied themselves with a group of social activists, artists, students and architects, that saw the value of the area and wanted to preserve it. In the biggest local newspaper, these people were described as troublemakers trying to hinder development and progress.
Some of the houses in the area was owned by the municipality, and the tenants of those houses were evicted. The city also bought further houses in the area. As the case dragged out, these houses stood empty for a long time, and were deteriorating. This was later used as an argument to tear them down; they were old, ugly and not maintained, and demolishing them would not be a loss for the city. This strategy is illegal in Norway, but is still used today; some real estate developers will let houses stand empty instead of using the buildings, because the land the building is standing on is more valuable than the building itself, when they cannot demolish the building (if it is historic, or if plans for a new building are not approved for other reasons).
To fight the motorway plans, the protestors broke into the empty houses, fixed them up and let homeless people live there. Sometimes the police would come and evict the squatters, but new people would always move in. This had already been a successful strategy in the fight to save other old neighborhoods of the city from sanitation. This struggle continued through the 1970s, until finally, in 1980, the municipality scrapped the motorway plans. Today, the area is home to several small shops, cafés and restaurants, and many of the houses have been restored. Because these buildings initially were quite cheap, they have been a good location to start small-scale businesses.
Every year the inhabitants of Bakklandet come together to arrange a festival to celebrate their victory, and to showcase all the activities that take place in the area. This is meant as a reminder to show that the area is vital, and worth preserving. It also strengthens the social bonds within the community, as they are working together to arrange the festival. Recently this is a strategy that has been used in other areas where artists and other creatives fear for the destruction of their neighborhoods, most recently in the old harbor area that is due for revitalization. Hopefully that area’s inhabitants will be heard, and some continuity will be kept, as that would provide roots for an otherwise newly planted district.
Photo: CH - visitnorway.com
Photo: Susetta Bozzi
Hutongs
Beijing has over the history been defined by one specific city structure: The hutong. Hutongs are narrow streets surrounded by low ‘siheyuan’, courtyard houses of one or two stories, where big families lived together in relative privacy, since the courtyards were shielded from the hustle and bustle of the city streets. As the buildings were quite low, the city grew very large with these areas. The hutong areas were established when Kublai Khan moved the Chinese capital to Beijing in the 1200s, but most of the hutongs still existing today date from the Ming and Qing dynasties. As the original hutong areas are close to the palace complex in the forbidden city, the areas have long been home to bureaucrats and dignitaries, but this changed after the communist revolution. The homes of the rich were confiscated and given to workers. Hutong areas went from being rich neighborhoods to being areas for the poor. The courtyard houses were sub-sectioned and added to, and density increased. Siheyuan that originally housed one family suddenly housed many times as many people. They lacked indoor plumbing, and suffered from bad hygienic conditions. Like in the previous example, the history embedded in the walls of the house were not seen as valuable in itself; age was a disadvantage, and many dreamed of being able to move to new high-rises outside the city center.
Beijing has over the history been defined by one specific city structure: The hutong. Hutongs are narrow streets surrounded by low ‘siheyuan’, courtyard houses of one or two stories, where big families lived together in relative privacy, since the courtyards were shielded from the hustle and bustle of the city streets. As the buildings were quite low, the city grew very large with these areas. The hutong areas were established when Kublai Khan moved the Chinese capital to Beijing in the 1200s, but most of the hutongs still existing today date from the Ming and Qing dynasties. As the original hutong areas are close to the palace complex in the forbidden city, the areas have long been home to bureaucrats and dignitaries, but this changed after the communist revolution. The homes of the rich were confiscated and given to workers. Hutong areas went from being rich neighborhoods to being areas for the poor. The courtyard houses were sub-sectioned and added to, and density increased. Siheyuan that originally housed one family suddenly housed many times as many people. They lacked indoor plumbing, and suffered from bad hygienic conditions. Like in the previous example, the history embedded in the walls of the house were not seen as valuable in itself; age was a disadvantage, and many dreamed of being able to move to new high-rises outside the city center.
As China’s economy started growing after the reforms of 1979, these areas have gradually changed yet again. Many of the areas that still for many people define the essence of Beijing, were torn down to make space for high-rises, shopping malls, office buildings and Olympic arenas. Hutongs, siheyuan were the main building forms of the city, but have had a set of problems facing modern times. Most houses have no running water, and rely on communal bathrooms. The density is lower than in high-rise areas, but higher than the buildings themselves were meant for, because of the sub-sectioning. But this density has also fostered a sense of community you don’t find in the high-rises in the outskirts of Beijing, as people have been forced to move some of their daily activities out in the streets, and the frequency of random encounters are high (Galeotto, 2014).
According to UNESCO, 88% of the hutong areas had been demolished before the 2008 Olympics (Jacobs, 2009), and the city is set to lose 20% of the ones that are still remaining (Schwankert, 2014). In addition, many artifacts from these areas have been lost in the cultural revolution, as many people tried to rid themselves of symbols of former wealth. Those areas that are preserved are home to about 600000 people, and have also been increasingly popular among expatriates and young Chinese creatives. As these areas have been demolished, many people have had to move from the inner city hutong areas to the outskirts of the city, as the property prices in central Beijing have been too high and the compensations for hutong housing have been too low. But as the standard of living in the hutongs were very low, most people have been happy to move.
The willingness to preserve has however increased in the recent years, and when the government wanted to tear down the area surrounding the drum and bell towers near old north gate, protests were stage by among others the idealist organization Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Center (CHP). The plan was to build a “Time Cultural City” tourism attraction, and would have entailed demolishing large swaths of hutongs and replacing them
with a brand new “historic area”, and an underground mall. The plans were later scrapped, and replaced with a much smaller “time museum” (Xu, 2010). The CHP is part of a movement that tries to showcase the value of the hutong areas, by recording their history and documenting their buildings, before it is too late. This is also the goal of the Shijia Hutong museum that opened in 2014 (Schwankert, 2014).
In 2017 the hutongs are again under threat. The first half of the year, facades have been bricked up, and shops, bars and restaurants have had to close (Pettis, 2017). This seems to be a response to overcrowding in the city center, and the government plans to move a big part of both the population and public services to Tongzhou, southeast of the center. Again, most people are willing, or even happy, to move, but some people stay behind. As quoted from a Norwegian newspaper article: «especially families with children may wish to move away from heavy traffic and pollution, so it’s good that the government is moving businesses and services out of the city center. But it is also important to take care of what’s left of Beijing’s old, inner city, and we can best do that by staying. If we move, they will tear it down.” (Lohne, 2016)
This has had a devastating effect on the hutong communities. “Restaurants and shops run by migrant workers who’ve been able to operate for years in a legal gray area have seen dramatic declines in patronage as their main entrances are bricked up. While these workers will be most directly affected by the current wave of renovations, the collateral damage also threatens the hutong’s cultural core: a unique and dynamic patchwork of spaces serving art, music, coffee and booze to Beijing’s swelling creative class” (Pettis, 2017).
Indeed, many of the hutong areas have been popular among Beijings creatives and expatriates, because of the lax regulations have made it easy for both startups and migrant workers to establish themselves here. It is this unique blending of cultures that in my view makes Beijing so interesting, and the prospect of it disappearing is saddening.
Conclusions
In both cities, the wish for economic prosperity and development has been a threat to cultural heritage. This is understandable, because the people living in older houses of low standard naturally wish to improve their lives. However, if no one will preserve these old areas, we are left with cities without history, and without cohesion. This creates alienation, as the elements that carry our relationship with our surroundings are replaced with shopping malls and highways. It is therefore important to recognize that this is happening, and do something to preserve what is left. The most effective way to do that is to use the buildings, and try to showcase their value.
But history is not something that happened a long time ago, but a continuous process. If you try to restore an area to “the way it was” or to display a snapshot of history, you create a break in history’s continuity. The hutong areas around Gulou and Nanluoguxiang has gradually been transformed during the course of history, and this transformation is an important part of the area’s identity, just as relevant to the area’s inhabitants as what happened here 700-800 years ago. To try to turn it into one of many “ancient areas” would therefore be a dramatic break with history, not a celebration of it, and it would uproot the communities that live and work in the area. A better course of action would be to work with the areas inhabitants to improve the area’s living conditions, for example by improving sanitation, reducing traffic and renovating houses. It is also important to showcase all parts of history, not just the postcard images of life in a set period of the past. By tearing down buildings and raising copies you would also destroy real buildings that generations of people have developed relationships with over time. This would dramatically alter parts of those people’s ‘being in the world’.
The fight to preserve Bakklandet was an important part of the area’s history that should not be forgotten, and it is a part of the identity of the people who still live in the area. This fight to preserve cultural heritage has also brought people together, and strengthened the community. But what will happen in the future, when the people who were there are gone? Will Bakklandet also be turned into a “ancient street”, devoid of actual history? I hope not.
References
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