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DAYLIGHT&ARCHITECTUR

EMAGAZINEBYVELUX

AUTUMN

2011

ISSUE161

0EURO

LI FECYCLES


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1

It is a vital goal of the VELUX Group to promote

and encourage sustainable living in buildings.

That means that buildings should be beneficial

for both people and the climate. We think that

all buildings should be CO2neutral and provide

the best conditions for a healthy indoor climate

with plenty of daylight and fresh air. An essen-tial component of sustainability, particularly in

buildings, is their ability to endure. Buildings

usually last longer than human beings, so sus-

tainable living in the existing building stock will

be a challenge for many generations to come.

The sustainable buildings of the future have

already been built. A mere 1 per cent of all build-

ings are built anew each year; so the remain-

ing 99 per cent can be considered the existing

stock. Of these, about 50 per cent date from

the period between 1945 and 1980 in most

European countries. Many will be upgraded

and modernised in the years to come in o rder

to contribute to human well-being and the envi-

ronment in the future. T he potential of climate

retrofitting is thus a huge one. It challenges

architects and engineers to work in an area

not traditionally in the province of profes sional

planners and calls upon knowledge and experi-

ence yet to be gained. The health and comfort

of the users should be the key success factor

of every refurbishment. Yet how much do plan-

ners actually know about this? How much do

they know about the interaction between peo-

ple and buildings throughout their lifetimes?

Buildings and their occupants pass through

a common, continuous cycle of learning, plan-ning, building, refurbishing and living. Accord-

ingly, this issue of D/A is divided into three

sections addressing the topics Learning from

Life, Sustainable Living and Planning for Life.

In the first section, Learning from Life,

Juhani Pallasmaa, Adam Sharr and Adrian

Forty address the theoretical aspects of

this topic. They reflect upon the interaction

between buildings and their occupants, how a

house becomes a home to its dwellers and how

it enhances their lives during all the phases of

occupancy and ageing.

The second section, Sustainable Living,

takes up the perspective of the users, reflect-

ing upon their needs and preferences. Three

ongoing refurbishments of residential build-

ings in the Netherlands, France and G ermany

are presented here, with the user taking cen-

tre stage. The authors, Anneke Bokern, Karine

Dana and Amelie Osterloh have asked the occu-

pants about the atmosphere and usability ofthe buildings, their memories associated with

them, and the hope s and aspirations that they

attach to the ongoing refurbishments.

The third section, Planning for Life,

addresses the topic from a planning perspec-

tive. As Stewart Brand once wrote, all build-

ings are predictions. All predictions are wron g.

So how can we design buildings that people will

still cherish in 50 years time, given that we can-

not predict their future?

This dilemma calls for a certain degree of

adaptability and openness in the design of a

building, as Jasper van Zwol and Gnter Pfeifer

explain in their articles. Yet it also calls for a

thorough aftercare after the building is deliv-

ered. The latter point in particular is stressed

by Fionn Stevenson and Bill Bordass from the

Usable Buildings Trust in their interview at the

end of this issue: every design process must

include a phase of occupancy, monitoring and

learning before commencing a new design or

refurbishment.

The key message from the articles and

interviews is that there is a need to re-think

current planning practices. According to

the authors, we need to put people and their

well-being at the centre of all endeavours:buildings ought to be seen as processes, not

products; and design criteria need to include

qualitative, not just quantitative aspects. The

VELUX Group encourages a h olistic approach

to designing buildings, which includes energy

aspects, indoor climate, and the environment

with better health and comfort of the users

as the result.

Enjoy the read!

The VELUX Group

VELUX

EDITORIAL

LIFE CYCLES

1


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3D&A AUTUMN 2011 ISSUE 16

AUTUMN 2011

SSUE 16ONTENTS

ELUX Editorial 2

ontents 4

EARNING FROM LIFE 9

welling in time 10

ving with Martin Heidegger 17

e Life of the User 23

USTAINABLE LIVING 28

ontfoort 32aris 56

amburg 72

LANNING FOR LIFE 96

me-Based-A rchitecture and Mixed Use 100

ven bad news can be beneficial 109

ultifaceted living 119

MONTFOORT

Ten terraced houses, represent-

ing millions of others in the Neth-

erlands, are being transformed into

active houses over the next few

months. Anneke Bokern has set out

for Montfoort to speak to the resi-

dents about the experiences and ex-

pectations they associate with the

buildings.

LIVING WITHMARTIN HEIDEGGER

Martin Heidegger is one of the 20th-

century philosophers most quoted

by architects. But is his opinion still

valid today, now that mass hous-

ing estates are so well established

worldwide? Highly relevant, believes

Adam Sharr: only if building remains

closely linked to living, and therefore

with the experience and perception

of each individual, does it become

possible to create houses that be-

come homes.

THE LIFE OF THEUSER

For a long time the user in archi-

tecture has been regarded as a part

of an anonymous mass whose sta-

tistically determined needs had to

be fulfilled. Adrian Forty says this

has changed: occupants have always

played an active part in producing,

occupying and destroying build-

ings. In the meantime, even archi-

tects and housing associations are

taking this fact to heart.

2310 3217

DWELLINGIN TIME

Whether buildings grow old grace-

fully and how they appeal to our

senses is fundamental to their long-

term viability. In his article, Juhani

Pallasmaa strongly criticises the

modern worlds demand for visual

purity and speaks for an architec-

ture that accepts life with all its im-

perfections.

1710

HAMBURG

This refurbished semi-detached

house in Hamburg is a pioneer of

future home design: the Lichtaktiv

Haus in Hamburgs Wilhelmsburg

district is carbon neutral, open to

daylight and fresh air and designed

to accommodate the lifestyles of fu-

ture generations. Anneke Bokorn

has sampled living in the house and

questioned neighbours on traditions

and the changing needs in regard of

housing.

PARIS

Is there a future for Frances ban-

lieues? If so, it may be in Paris 17th

arrondissement. Frdric Druot andLacaton &Vassal have refurbished

the Tour Bois-le-Prtre, a 1959 res-

idential building, to meet the needs

of the 21st century. Karine Dana was

there for Daylight/Architecture andfound a building that not only offers

good prospects for the future but

also one that preserves its past.

56 72

56 72


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MULTIFACETED LIVING

The social ties in our society are

weakening, lifestyles are changing.

However, as Gnter Pfeifer puts it,

advances in home building came

to a standstill more than 50 years

ago. In his report, he describes pos-

sible ways out of this dilemma. The

most important aspect: investors

and planners should rethink and re-

spond to the need for new housing

types instead of constantly turning

a blind eye.

EVEN BAD NEWS CANBE BENEFICIAL

What do we really know about the

true needs of a buildings occupants?

Still far too little is what Bill Bordas s

and Fionn Stevenson from the Brit-

ish Usable Buildings Trust think. The

organisation has set itself the task

of learning more about a buildings

suitability for daily use and raising

the awareness of clients and plan-

ners for true needs.

11900 108

ME BASEDRCHITECTUREND MIXED USE

uildings that are intended to last

ust be able to adapt this seem-

gly paradoxical theory has been

nfirmed repeatedly in the past. In

s article, Jasper van Zwol analy-

s the force stemming from society

at expresses a need for adaptable

uildings, and the design strategies

pplied to achieve these.

54

Buildings need to contribute more to the well-

being of humans and of the environment than

they do today. They need to do so in the long

term, far beyond the payback periods of inves-

tors and the time horizon of most planners. For

humans, as for buildings, the ultimate goal is a

long, good and healthy life.

This seemingly simple credo, however,

is often obscured and contradicted by other

perceived needs such as to make money. It

seems that our society does not even know

or agree on what makes a good life: Wealth

and power? The paraphernalia of the everyday?

Or harmony with the world around us, health

and a balanced inner self?

The same applies to buildings: What con-

stitutes their quality? A good profit in a short

time? A visually exciting design? A low energy

demand? Or their everyday usability, contribu-

tion to well-being and adaptivity to everyday

needs?

We that is planners, builders and manu-

facturers, but also clients and everyone inhab-

iting buildings need more understanding of

life cycles, both of humans and of buildings. We

need to learn how different life cycles are inter-

linked. Life needs to shape building practices,

just as buildings today shape life. Remember

Churchills verdict, First we shape our build-

ings, then they shape us.

What and who makes a house a home?

The architect with his bricks and glass, or the

inhabitant with his everyday things and his

feelings and memories? Heidegger argued that

the value of a jar of water is not in the jar itself,

but in what it contains.

The same goes for buildings, they have to

provide the framework for what goes on inside

them, and be a natural part of what goes on

around them, including the life cycles of nature.

A critical review of planning strategies, bench-

marks and criteria is needed. Buildings no

longer have to be designed (and never had to,

anyway) for the moment they are handed over

to the client, but for their operation. How will

they contribute to human health and environ-

mental well-being after they are han ded over?

How will they be adapted and re -used in later

periods of their life? How can we make sure

that they are still cherished in 50 years time?

In the wake of the sustainability discussion, new

methods and tools have emerged that promise

solutions for the life cycle issue. Scientific life

cycle analysis, that measures all environmen-

tal effects of buildings during their lifetime, is

one of them.

But the current focus on benchmarking and

measuring also comes with risks: that of losing

out on the immeasurable qualities of architec-

ture and life; and that of scientifically justify-

ing the status quo by obscuring it with figures

and green rhetoric, but not changing anything.

We have to acknowledge the limitations of

benchmarking. We have to avoid one-sided,

biased planning perspectives, and instead take

life as a whole on board. We have to create life-

supporting, not just environmentally-friendly

buildings. Buildings that are sensual, not just

visual especially for everyday purposes.

We can argue that we have b een at this

point before. But there is no simple and nos-

talgic way back to classical architecture. The

world has changed tremendously around us,

new demands and challenges have emerged at

a tremendous speed recently. We will therefore

have to combine the best of the past with the

best of new approaches. And we have to learn

how to make informed decisions about what

actually is the best of the two worlds, both

for humans and for the environment.

We have only just started to learn. There

is still a long way to go.

A LONG WAYTO GOBy Jakob Schoof

5

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Michael Wesely

till life (January 25 February 1, 2011) 2011


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mperfection is in some wayessential to all that we know ofife. It is the sign of life in amortal body, that is to say, ofa state of process and change.

Nothing that lives is, or can be,rigidly perfect; part of it is de-caying, part nascent And in allthings that live there are certainrregularities and deficiencies,which are not only signs of lifebut sources of beauty.

John Ruskin in: The Lamp of Beauty:Writings On Art by John Ruskin, 1980

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It is as though space, cognizant [] of its

inferiority to time, answers it with the onlyproperty time doesnt possess: with beauty.

Joseph Brodsky1

- and structures,

both material and mental, transform ho-

mogenous, measureless and meaningless

natural space into distinct places that pro-ject a cultural narrative and significance.

Wild space is domesticated by architec-

ture into cultural space that articulates

and directs our behaviour, thoughts andfeelings. Architectural space mediates

between the natural and the man-made,

immensity and intimacy, collectivity and

individuality, past and future. As we settlein the flesh of the world, to use a notion

by Maurice Merleau-Ponty, we become

part of the space and the space becomes

part of us. I am the space where I am, asthe poet Nol Arnaud exclaims2.

We also need to tame time and settle

ourselves in its continuum, in the same

way as we set ourselves to dwell in space.Karsten Harries, philosopher, asserts suc-

cinctly: Architecture is not only about

domesticating space, it is also a deep de-

fence against the terror of time. The lan-guage of beauty is essentially the languageof timeless reality3. The measureless and

endless time of the universe is a humanly

intolerable condition; the dimension of

time also needs to be domesticated intohuman measures and meanings.

Time is the most mysterious of the di-

mensions of the physical world. St. Augus-

tine made an appropriate remark on the

fundamental mystery of time: What istime? If people do not ask me what time

is, I know. If they ask me what it is, then I

do not know4. There are vastly differingscales of time, such as cosmological time,

geological time, evolutionary time, cul-

tural time, biological time, atomic time,etc. We can also think of an architecturaltime that mediates between these vari-

ous time scales, and concretises the time

range that we occupy as combined bio-

logical and cultural beings.

Architecture manipulates and stores time,it slows down, fragments, halts, and even

reverses time. In todays world of con-

stant hurry, time has gained added speed,

and even architecture tends to contrib-ute to this dizzying sense of acceleration.

The temporal narrative of architecture is

thought-provokingly similar to literary

and cinematic modes of temporal nar-

ration, although rarely thought in thatmanner.

In the same way that we share the flesh

of the world, we also share its rhyth ms anddurations. The modern world is obsessed

with newness and contemporaneity; our

objects and buildings are usually intend-

ed to stay new forever. We have pushed

the realities of ageing and death to the pe-

riphery of our consciousness and turnedour backs to the domain of the dead. In

our unconscious fear of decay, we wish to

eliminate traces of age from our bodiesand, similarly, suppress signs of time and

wear in our objects and settings.

We increasingly use materials that

do not show traces of time. At the same

time, we experience contemporary set-tings as alienating or even necrophilic,

and enjoy the cities, towns and villages

of old cultures because of their humane

warmth, and haptic sense of history, timeand lived life mediated by their layered

patina. Our own settings of life tend to be

DWELLINGIN TIMEIn our times of accelerating speed, architecture has become obsessedwith newness and contemporaneity, appealing to the eye but failingto create emotions and atmospheres. It is therefore time to reconsiderthe alternative tradition of modern architecture: buildings thatappeal to all the senses, that show concern for materials and textures,and that, by accepting life with all its imperfections, are intrinsicallyrooted in time.

By Juhani PallasmaaPhotography by Michael Wesely

dominated by the sense of vision, whereas

the historical townscapes that we love areexperienced through hearing, touch andsmell as much as through vision.

We have an unexpected capacity to grasp

atmospheres of places and spaces. As we

enter an urban space, landscape or room,

we grasp its essence and qualities in asplit second before we have noticed or

understood any of its details. In fact, our

grasp of environmental entities seems

to progress from the whole to the parts,not the other way round as we are usu-

ally taught. Through the past century,

modern architecture has aimed at the

perfection of spatial volumes, forms and

details, while the overall atmospherehas not been consciously considered.

The element of time and duration, com-

bined with a sense of life is clearly more

attached to atmospheric and peripheralunconscious experiences than to the fo-

cused and conscious perception of form.

Gaston Bachelard distinguishes be-

tween formal imagination and mate-

rial imagination, and argues that im-ages arising from matter have a stronger

Architecture is not only aboutdomesticating space, it is also adeep defence against the terror oftime. The language of beauty isessentially the language of time-less reality.

Karsten Harries, Building and the Terror of Time,

in: Perspecta: The Yale Architectural Journal,

issue 19, 1982

Still life (9.2.15.2.2008)

2008


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... at its most genuine, thearchitectural impulse seemsconnected to a longing forcommunication and commem-oration, a longing to declareourselves to the world througha register other than words,through the language of objects,colours and bricks: an ambitionto let others know who we are and, in the process, to remindourselves)

Alain de Botton in:

The Architecture of Happiness, 2006

motive impact than images of form5. It is

uite evident that historical architecture

he world over emphasises experiencesf materials, textures and the alternation

f shadow and light, whereas modern ar-

hitecture prefers geometrically pure and

equently white and smooth forms. Therst architecture promotes tactility and

mediates a wealth of messages of time,whereas the second is dominated by vi-

on and tends to regard traces of use and

me as defects or failures. This is the de-sive difference between an architecture

hat welcomes traces of use, and another

pproach that wishes to stay unchanged

nd untouched by time and wear.The familiar white modernist aesthet-

contains strong moralising undertones.

n Le Corbusiers words, whitenesserves the eye of truth6. The moral im-lications of whiteness are rather sur-risingly expressed in his statement:

Whiteness is extremely moral. Supposehere were a decree requiring all roomsn Paris to be given a lack of whitewash. I

maintain that that would be a police task

f real stature and a manifestatio n of high

morality, the sign of a great people7.

Modernity at large has reflected thisdeal of purity and reduction, whereas

he Other Tradition of Modern Archi-ecture, to use a notion of Colin St John

Wilson8, has been engaged in an architec-

ure of materiality and richness of texturalnd formal expressions, as well as a richariation of illumination and shadow. As

consequence, the latter architectureends to project atmospheric qualities as

pposed to the formal ideals and perfec-on of the first.

n a lecture given in 1936, Erik Gunnarsplund, Alvar Aaltos close friend and

mentor, motivated the change of idealshat took place among many of the leadingordic architects in the mid-1930s: The

dea that only design, which is compre-

hended visually, can be art is a narrow con-

ception. No, everything grasped by ourother senses through our whole humanconsciousness and which has the capac-ity to communicate desire, pleasure, oremotions can also be art9.

Merleau-Ponty points out this essen-tial integration of the sensory realms: Myperception is not a sum of visual, tactileand audible givens: I perceive in a total

way with my whole being: I grasp a uniquestructure of the thing, a unique way ofbeing, which speaks to all my senses atonce10. The philosopher seems to be de-

scribing here an overarching atmospheric

experience rather than a perception ofform. Gaston Bachelard calls this fusedsensory interaction the polyphony of thesenses11. Our buildings occupy the same

flesh of the world as we ourselves occupy

as embodied beings. Every building hasits auditive, haptic, olfactory and evengustatory qualities that give the visualperception its sense of fullness and life,in the same way that a masterful painting

projects sensations of full sensuous life.Just think of the sensations of a warm and

moist breeze, joyful sounds and smells of

plants and seaweed magically conveyedby a Henri Matisse painting of an openbalcony door in Nice.

As a consequence of its predominantlyconceptual and formal ideals, the archi-tecture of our time tends to create set-

tings for the eye that seem to originate ina single moment of time and evoke theexperiences of flattened temporality and

absence of life. Vision and immateriality

reinforce the feeling of the present tense,whereas materiality and haptic experi-ences evoke an awareness of temporaldepth and a continuum of time. The in-evitable processes of ageing, weathering

and wear are not usually considered asconscious and positive elements in design,as the architectural artefact is conceived

to exist in a timeless space, an idealisedand artificial condition separated fromthe experiential reality of time and life.

The architecture of the modern era hasaspired to evoke an air of agelessnessand of a perpetual present tense. Theideals of perfection and completenesshave further detached the architecturalobject from the realities of time and use.

As a consequence of the idea of timelessperfection, our buildings have become

vulnerable to the negative effects of time,

the revenge of time, as it were. Instead ofoffering positive qualities of vintage and

authority, time and use attack our build-ings negatively and destructively.

During the past decades, novelty hasbecome an obsession, an independent ar-

tistic criteria and value. Yet, true artistic

quality arises from other properties than

mere novelty.The aspiration for abstraction and

perfection tends to lead the attention to

the world of immaterial ideas, whereasmatter, weathering and decay strengthenthe experiences of causality, time and re-

ality. There is a fundamental difference

Michael Wesely: Stillleben

(Still Life), 2009/2010

Time is the essential, constantly

recurring dimension in Michael

Weselys photographs. He uses

exposure times ranging from a

few minutes up to several years

to make things visible that could

never normally be captured in a sin-

gle glimpse: the process of growth

and decay, cycles of nature, the tra-

jectory of the sun across the sky,

or those minute movements made

over time by people and objects

that themselves seem to be static.

Michael Wesely shot to interna-

tional fame when he recorded the

construction of the high-rise build-

ings at Potsdamer Platz in Berlin

in photographs using an exposure

time of more than two years.

Weselys still lifes of flowers and

fruit give the centuries-old subject

a new dimension, lending expres-

sion to the original intention of the

genre. The still lifes of the Golden

Age of Dutch painting already see

themselves as symbols of vanity, as

allegories for the transitoriness of

all things earthly. As it condenses

to a single image, the insidious but

ubiquitous decay depicted in Wese-

lys flower pictures develops a com-

pletely unexpected dynamism.

Michael Wesely (born 1963) stud-

ied at the Bavarian State Institute

of Photography and at the Acad-

emy of Fine Arts in Munich, and

now lives and works as a photog-

rapher in Berlin. His work has been

(and is) exhibited at the Museum

of Modern Art in New York, the

Kunstmuseum Bonn and the

Gemeentemuseum in The Hague,

among others.

Michael Wesely/ VG Bild-Kunst

Bonn, 2011 courtesy Nusser &

Baumgart, Munich

Below Still life (14. 22.6.2008)

2008


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between an image of idealised human ex-

istence and our real, lived condition. Real

life is always impure and messy, andprofound architecture wisely provides amargin for this very impurity of life.

John Ruskin believed that imperfec-tion is in some way essential to all that we

know of life. It is the sign o f life in a mortalbody, that is to say, of a state of processand change. Nothing that lives is, or can be,

rigidly perfect; part of it is decaying, part

nascent And in all things that live thereare certain irregularities and deficiencies,

which are not only signs of life but sources

of beauty12.

Alvar Aalto elaborated Ruskins ideafurther when he spoke of the human er-

ror and criticised the quest for absolute

truth and perfection: One might say that

the human error has always been part ofarchitecture. In a deeper sense, it has evenbeen indispensable to making it possible

for buildings to fully express the richness

and positive values of life13.

Materiality, erosion and destructionhave become favoured subject mattersof contemporary art from Arte Pov-era and Gordon Matta-Clark to AnselmKiefer, the films of Andrey Tarkovsky,and todays countless works based onimages and processes of matter. De-stroying and constructing are equal inimportance, and we must have souls forone and the other, Paul Valry states,

and, indeed, scenes of destruction anddecay are thought-provokingly popu-lar in todays art14. The installation artof Jannis Kounellis expresses dreamsand memories of rusting steel, coal andburlap, whereas Richard Serras and Ed-

uardo Chillidas authoritative massesof forged and rolled iron awaken bodilyexperiences of weight and gravity. These

works address directly our skeletal andmuscular systems; they are communica-tion from the muscles of the sculptor tothose of the viewer. The works of beeswax,pollen and milk by Wolfgang Laib invoke

images of spirituality, ritual and ecologi-cal concerns, whereas Andy Goldsworthy

and Nils-Udo fuse nature and art through

using materials, processes, and contextsof nature in their biophilic art works.

The ever more pressing requirements

for ecologically acceptable values and life

styles are certainly suggesting a new ar-chitecture that is not only conscious ofmaterials, processes and temporal cy-cles, but turn them into ingredients of anew beauty. As Joseph Brodsky suggests

with the assurance of great poetry: The

purpose of evolution, believe it or not, is

beauty15.

Juhani Pallasmaahas worked continuously as

a designer, writer and educator since the 1960s.

After leaving his position as Professor and Dean

at the Helsinki University of Technology in 1997, he

has held Visiting Professor positions in various uni-

versities internationally, currently at the Catholic

University of America in Washington D.C. He pu-

blishes widely, mainly on the implications of human

embodiment in art and architecture, and writes es-

says on individual artists and architects. His recent

publications include The Embodied Image, (Lon-

don 2011), The Thinking Hand, (London 2 009), The

Eyes of the Skin (London 1995, 2005), The Archi-

tecture of Image: existential space in cinema (Hel-

sinki, 2001, 2005).

Notes:

1. Joseph Brodsky, Watermark, Penguin Books,

London, 1997, p. 44.

2. As quoted in Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of

Space, Beacon Press, Boston, 1969, p. 137.

3. Karsten Harries, Building and the Terror of Time,

Perspecta: The Yale Architectural Journal, issue 19,

The MIT Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1982.

4. As quoted in Jorge Luis Borges, This Craft of

Verse, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mas-

sachusetts and London, England, 2 000, p. 19.

5. Gaston Bachelard, Water and Dreams: An Essay

on the Imagination of Matter, The Pegasus Foun-

dation, Dallas, Texas, 1983, p. 1.

6. As quoted in Mohsen Mostafavi and David Lea-

therbarrow, On Weathering, The MIT Press, Cam-

bridge, Massachusetts, 1993, p. 76.

7.Le Corbusier, Lart decoratif daujourdhui, Paris,

Edition G. Grs et Cie, 1925, p. 192.

8. Colin St John Wilson, The Other Tradition of Mo-

dern Architecture: The uncompleted project. Black

Dog Publishing, London, 2007.

9. Erik Gunnar Asplund, Konst och Technik [Art

and Technology]. Byggmstaren 1936. As quoted

in Stuart Wrede, The Architecture of Erik Gunnar

Asplund. The MIT Press, Cambridge, Massachu-

setts, 1980, p. 153.

10.Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Film and the New

Psychology, in Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Sense and

Non-Sense, Northwestern University Press, Evan-

ston, Ill, 1964, p. 48.

11. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Reverie, Bea-

con Press, Boston, 1971, p. 6.

12. The Lamp of Beauty: Writings On Art by John

Ruskin, Joan Evans, editor, Cornell University Press,

Ithaca. N.Y., 1980, p. 238.

13.Alvar Aalto, The Human Error, in Gran Schildt,editor, Alvar Aalto in His Own Words, Otava Publis-

hers, Helsinki, 1997, p. 281.

14. Paul Valry, Eupalinos or the Architect, Paul

Valry Dialogues, Pantheon Books, New York, 1956,

p. 70.

15. Joseph Brodsky, An Immodest Proposal, On

Grief and Reason, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New

York, 1997, p. 207.

The architecture of the modernera has aspired to evoke an air ofagelessness and of a perpetualpresent tense. [] As a conse-quence of the idea of timeless

perfection, our buildings havebecome vulnerable to the negativeeffects of time, the revenge oftime, as it were.

Juhani Pallasmaa

Still life (3.4. 13.4.2007)

2007


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6 1951, the philosopher

Martin Heidegger spoke to an audienceof architects and engineers at a confer-ence called Man and Space in Darmstadtthat had been convened to discuss thepost-war Wohnungsfrage, the so-calleddwelling question. Millions of people re-mained homeless or dispossessed follow-ing the destructions of war and the adventof the Cold War, and the conference hadbeen organised to discuss the problemsof rebuilding. In the following sixty years,the philosophers talk published as theessay Bauen Wohnen Denken (Building

Dwelling Thinking) has become highlyinfluential among architects and archi-tectural theorists.

, Heideggers talk seems as strange now asit must have seemed in 1951. It is curiouslyarchaic on first encounter, appealing toetymology to the old meanings of eve-

ryday words for supposedly timelessinsights into the notion of dwelling andits practices. For Heidegger, languageshowed that the words for building and

dwelling bauen and wohnen sharedthe same root. Importantly, he claimed,they used to be one-and-the-same idea,two sides of the same coin. Building, heargued, as both making a home and caringfor the land (in German, a farmer is also

der Bauer), had once been united withdwelling through the rites and rituals ofeveryday life. It was perfectly natural to

simply extend a house if a new child meant

that more room was needed, to build withthe materials to hand, to inscribe thesmall places of the house with personaldetails and the memories of life. Buildingand dwelling were united, for Heidegger,

LIVING WITH

MARTIN HEIDEGGERContemporary Western societies have become accustomed tomass-produced housing designed by distant professionals who donot know who the inhabitants will be. In the 1950s, the philosopherMartin Heidegger asked whether this kind of housing can evermake a satisfactory home. His questions about building anddwelling are still relevant today.

By Adam SharrPhotography by Andreas Gefeller

in the immediate presence of materials

and the beliefs, values and habits associ-ated with them (which he summarisedidiosyncratically as the fourfold of earth,

sky, divinities and mortals). Only in re-cent times, Heidegger claimed, have ex-

perts, legislation and guidance separatedbuilding from dwelling, professionalis-ing building with industrial processes andspecialist language, imagining dwelling asa scientific problem to be quantified andcontained. The philosopher concluded his talk

with the example of a 200-year-old BlackForest farmhouse. Its residents oncelived in intimate connection with thelocality, he argued, their lives measured

out in festivals and seasons, funerals andbirths. The house shaped the practicesof daily life from the meaningful to thebanal and was also shaped by them. Heemphasised the role of the inhabitants:the house was planned by peoples lives,

not just in the initial design but alsothrough the on-going micro-activities ofdaily life. A dwelling determines how lifetakes place, he suggested, but it is also it-self determined by the activities that take

place there. The house was understoodsensually, manually and atmospherically,not calculated mathematically. People donot primarily know their house by floorareas and window dimensions, he im-plied, but instead by what the handrailsand the door handles feel like to touch,how shadows track across the room and

how it feels to sit by the fire. He thuschallenged the prevailing scientific ap-proach to the dwelling problem, which

preferred to talk of housing in terms ofnumbers: rooms, dimensions, areas and

production figures. By emphasising sizesand quantities, he claimed, architects and

BelowUntitled (Meadow 2)

Dsseldorf, 2002

ndreas Gefeller: Supervisions,

0022005

o all appearances, Andreas

efellers photographs in his series

upervisions show a birds eye

ew of human living areas and

orkspaces. But appearances are

ceptive: the impossible per-

ectives shown here are actually

ade up of hundreds of individ-

l photographs that coalesce to

rm a big patchwork-like picture.

umans are not visible on any of

e photographs and yet they have

mistakeably left their mark on

. Their classification and sign

systems together with the marks

of daily wear-and-tear attest to the

almost unlimited inventiveness of

our species when it comes to sub-

duing our environment and bending

it to our own ideas of usefulness.

Andreas Gefeller (*1970) stud-

ied photography at the University

of Essen and was appointed to the

German Photographic Academy

in 2001. In 2004, he was awarded

the art prize of the city of Nordhorn

and in 2005, received the LeadA-

ward Hamburg. In 2010, Andreas

Gefeller was given a scholarship as

part of the series European Eyes on

Japan. Four books of photographs

by Andreas Gefeller have already

been published: Soma (2002),

Supervisions (2005), Andreas

Gefeller Photographs (2009)

and The Japan Series (2011).

All images courtesy of Thomas

Rehbein Gallery Cologne and

Hasted Kraeutler New York


11/65


ngineers were missing the real questions

f dwelling, misconceiving what a houseould or should be. Indeed, the philoso-

her was careful to avoid the word archi-cture its meaning loaded with the fine

udgements of connoisseurship and theaditions of a classical past preferring

nstead to emphasise that housing shouldgain be conceived in terms of a buildinghich is also simultaneously imagined aswelling.

eideggers challenge to the construction

ndustry not only to industry practicesut also to the very idea of industrialiseduilding remains just as relevant today.erhaps more so, particularly where de-elopment is motivated largely by profitnd fuelled by private equity. Words likeroperty and development and, in-

eed, housing and user speak of peo-le being contained, rather than imag-

ned as inhabitants in intimate harmonyith their situation. Rarely do designers

nd promoters of housing know who theesidents of their designs will be. Inhab-ants are classified generically as the

lderly or mobility-impaired, or withcronyms like yuppies (young and up-

ardly mobile) or dinkys (dual income,o kids yet) their needs quantified andppraised insofar as sales or letting will bessured. The marketing concept is oftenorked-up alongside the design concept

o that flats and houses can be promotedo the appropriate person-types as ex-cutive, luxury or affordable. Focusroups, organised by developers to askertain questions of typical people inrder to determine what they want, aresed to produce an image of home thatesigners are instructed to reproduce.

In Britain, for example, this often means

a house with a traditional exterior brickfor its connotations of security and lon-

gevity (although often as cladding over atimber or lightweight steel frame) and

a modern interior kitchens with shinywork surfaces and the latest appliances,

and rooms equipped with integral Cable, broadband and sound systems. Thus,a house becomes a product a lifestyle

for sale. Of course, plenty of people in the con-struction industry recognise that thereare problems associated with industri-alised housing production for unknown

users. The notion of life-cycle homes ispromoted, although it is often interpretedin limited ways: as provision for break-outzones in floors to allow the later installa-tion of a disabled lift, or level thresholdsfor easy access by the infirm, or extra pow-er sockets in a childs bedroom so that it

can be adapted later into a home office.There are also plenty of professionals

who recognise that the mass-productionof elements or rooms (favoured becausethey speed-up construction and ensurethe rapid repayment of the developers

loan capital) can be rather alienating.Technology, here, is seen to offer a pot en-tial solution, where computer-poweredmanufacturing offers the tantalisingpossibility of mass customisation the

systematic production of one-off variants instead of the endless reproduction of

the same. Heidegger, though, would seethese industry solutions, however well-meaning, as continuing to exacerbate theproblem, only perpetuating the distancebetween dwelling and building. There are, of course, problems withHeideggers way of thinking. In more mo-bile societies, few people stay in one place

My dwelling, my house: this is thereatest personal challenge thatrchitecture can present. Strictlypeaking, it is not even architec-ure that excites and satisfies meo much about it, but the con-lomerate of my own traces in it.

olfgang Meisenheimer in:

as Denken des Leibes, 2000

Untitled (Street)

Hongkong, 2004/2006


12/65


r their lifetime, let alone maintain long-

anding familial roots in a particular lo-ation. Rarely do people have the time,he money or the inclination to build forhemselves; building is simply not some-hing that most people feel empowered too. Moreover, for some, the ritual aspectsf domesticity are boring or distasteful,ways bound-up with the idea of the het-

rosexual family of husband, wife and 2.4hildren. Critics of Heidegger would evenaim that problems arise when peopleel rooted somewhere because, they

rgue, rootedness can encourage intran-gence, intolerance, xenophobia and ul-mately even persecution.

But the centring power of home can-

ot be denied. Although it is hard to quan-fy, people know from experience that a

ense of being at home comes from inti-

macy, familiarity and from the intangiblepirit of the place. The homes that are the

most desirable and also the most sell-ble are those whose atmospheres feelust right. As soon as one tries to analysehese qualities, however, they seem to slipway. They cannot be easily measured orasted into a cost-benefit spreadsheet.

t a time when the rhetoric of sustain-bility is widespread, the idea of a home

hat people want to care for over a longeriod of time seems entirely appropri-te even if peoples ways of life may nowe rather different from those practised

n the idealised Black Forest farmhouse

hat Heidegger celebrated., , o how can the professional idea of hous-

ng be reconciled with the Heideggerian

otion of dwelling and building? Is itossible to escape the mass-productionf housing for anonymous users? Canandardised housing ever really be de-

sirable? Can thinking about life-cyclehomes become more intimately asso-ciated with the micro-practices of dailylife? Indeed, can anyone ever really equipthemselves to design for someone else?There are, of course, no easy answers.It seems, though, that we need designersand developers who are prepared to thinkof themselves as enablers rather thanexperts prepared to re-design profes-sional practices so that inhabitants canbe involved early-on in construction. The

idea of a building being completed onopening day seems especially unhelpful.This is, surely, the beginning rather thanthe finishing of a home. If designers areable to think in this way, then maybe theycan make places that are specific but notprescriptive, that invite and encourage in-

habitation in every detail, that help peopleto see the potential in the places around

them, that allow them to choreographtheir stuff to suit and shape their lives.Perhaps we can redesign schedules of ac-commodation to detail places rather thanareas. Maybe the tagging of rooms withfunctional labels like dining room orsitting room is unhelpful, and a more

fluid, overlaid conception of space hasricher potential. Surely, the calculationof lighting, heating and ventilation forconsistent evenness serves to eliminate

character and neutralise atmosphere?What about designing technologies that

are less background and instead moreengaging and life-affirming? Few peoplefeel as fondly about a radiator, for exam-ple, as they do about a real fire. In the end as I argued in my book

Heideggers Hut perhaps a house canbecome a dwelling by framing in rich andmultiple ways its inhabitants and their re-lationships, its equipment, its social con-text, the theatre of passers-by, the sun andtracking shadows, glimpses of the sk y, thebreeze and wind, the rain and s now, floraand fauna. It might be neither too big n orunnecessarily flexible, instead helpingits occupants to configure intensities ofsituation. It might encourage reflectivemoments thought at a slower pace. Con-figuring daily, weekly and seasonal rou-tines, such a home could become a datum,capable of dignifying and sustaining any

life, attuned to the commonplace closelywatched. In concluding Building DwellingThinking, Heidegger was cautious not tooffer recipes for design, instead askingthat his audience thought through hisideas for themselves. Indeed, perhapsthe only way to think through his provo-cations about building and dwelling isto live them, to draw from personal expe-riences of everyday life when attemptingto design on behalf of others. While we

should recognise that his philosophyhas its problems, perhaps there remainssome merit in trying to live, for a while,

with Martin Heidegger.

Adam Sharris Professor of Architecture at New-

castle University, Principal of Adam Sharr Archi-

tects and co-editor of arq: Architectural Research

Quarterly, published by Cambridge University

Press. His books include Heideggers Hut (MITPress, 2006) and Heidegger for Architects (Rout-

ledge, 2007).

Untitled (Meadow 1)

Dsseldorf, 2002

Although it is hard to quantify,eople know from experiencehat a sense of being at homeomes from intimacy, familiaritynd from the intangible spiritf the place..

dam Sharr


13/65

232 D&A AUTUMN 2011 ISSUE 16

- century, a new

term appeared in architects vocabulary the user. Distin ct from other existingand, at first sight, synonymous words inhabitants, occupants, clients the

user designated a novel relationshipbetween architects and society. The im-mediate circumstances that gave riseto this new term were the large publicbuilding programmes undertaken in all

Western countries following the SecondWorld War, as houses, schools and hos-pitals were constructed on a scale neverseen before. Sin ce those for whom thesebuildings were intended could rarely beidentified in person, architects had toform some notion of their likely needs ifthe buildings were to stand any chanceof fulfilling their purposes, both practicaland ideological. The user satisfied thisrequirement. Yet the user was alwaysa fiction, an abstraction necessary to ar-chitects so as to be able to discharge theirduty to the state that employed themand, indirectly, to the public for whomthe buildings were built. The term cameunder attack in the 1970s, and as stat e in-

vestment in large building programmes

dried up, it lost its purpose and wentout of fashion. In the 1990s, however,the user returned to architectural dis-

course, serving an entirely different pur-pose no longer to sustain architecturalpractice, but rather to criticise it.

Something of the excitement and opti-mism surrounding interest in the user

in the post-war years is captured by the

announcement in 1961 of an Englishpublic sector architect, Henry Swain,that to evolve techniques to help us toanalyse the needs of the users of build-

THE LIFE OF

THE USER.Once much discussed, then nearly forgotten, and eventuallyrediscovered, the term user had many meanings in 20th- and21st- century architecture. From an anonymous target group,users have evolved into creative agents in the appropriation and often even the design of buildings.

By Adrian FortyPhotography by Andreas Gefeller

ings is the most urgent task of our pro-

fession. Swain, like many other archi-tects of his time, believed that careful andsystematic analysis of user needs wouldmake it possible to design buildings that

would not only better accommodate, andso gratify, their recipients, but also liber-ate architects from time-worn formulaeand conventions of design. Only by be-

ing truly responsive to the user mightarchitecture fulfil its aspiration to realisea better life. Closely associated with the analy-sis of user needs was an anxiety aboutobsolescence, and the realisation thatuser needs often changed more rapidlythan buildings could be adapted. De -mographic changes such as changes inhousehold size could render the best-

prepared design unsuitable, leaving astock of buildings that would not fit the

social needs of the future. Recognisingthat not all uses could be predict ed at themoment of design, architects looked at

ways of introducing elements of inde-terminacy into their designs to allow forgrowth and change. If close attention tothe user stimulated greater specificity

in design, over-specificity could renderbuildings useless, prompting architects

to introduce another architectural buz-zword of the post-war era, flexibility.Flexibility was the antidote to the overlyprescriptive designs that attention to theuser could lead to, and became that terms

necessary companion. Flexibility couldtake various forms. It could be achievedeither by redundancy, or as Rem Kool-haas writes, the creation of a margin excess capacity that enables different

and even opposite interpretations anduses; or it could be achieved by techni-cal means, incorporating removable (or

movable) walls or floors, so that the in-

ternal divisions could be modified. Moresophisticated variants include cybernetic

systems responsive to the patterns of usein the building, such as was envisaged inCedric Prices Fun Palace project.

Objections to the user came primar-ily from outside the architectural pro-fession, while the critique of flexibility

was generated by architects themselves.Although the user was born out of thebest and most generous humanistic in-tentions, to create a better life, it cameunder attack in the 1970s as one of thecauses of the dehumanisation of modernlife. It was the way in which the concept

of the user was employed, strippingpeople of individuality and giving them

a spurious unity. that made the Frenchphilosopher Henri Lefebvre suspiciousof it. In his book of 1974, The Productionof Space, he wrote The word user hassomething vague and vaguely suspect

about it. Use r of what? one tends to won-

der. The users space is lived - not repre-sented (or conceived). As far as Lefebvre

was concerned, the category of the userwas a particular device by which modernsocieties, having deprived their members

Flexibility as such should not beoveremphasised or turned intoyet another absolute, a newabstract whim. [] We mustbeware of the glove that fits allhands, and therefore becomes nohand.

Aldo van Eyck in: Forum, vol.16, no.2, 1962

Untitled (Panel Building 4) /

Detail. Berlin, 2004


14/65


of the means to experience space as alived in phenomenon (by turning it intoa mental abstraction or representation),further insulted them by making themunable to recognise themselves within aspace by turning them too into abstrac-

tions.Yet, as is clear from even this short quo-tation, Lefebvre was not entirely negativeabout the user, for he was excited by thepossibility of users exercising their rightto inhabit space, to make it truly livedin. There were many ways in which thismight happen, and one of those t hat Lefe-bvre referred to was the early Christiansco-option of Roman basilicas for use aschurches. As he put it, he was for ap-propriation and for use, and againstexchange and domination or, in other

words, against control by the forces of themarket and the agencies of capital. It wasprecisely this sense of the user, with itsdisruptive potential, that was to becomeattractive in architectural circles towardsthe end of the twentieth century.

Although widely promoted in the 1950sand 1960s and the object of much re-search, flexibility, as a means by which

buildings might accommodate unfore-seen changes in user needs came undersurprisingly strong criticism from archi-

tects themselves. Th e main objectionwas that attempts to arrive at spaces thatwere sufficiently indeterminate to permita variety of uses often resulted in some-

thing so bland and neutral as to be entirelylacking in quality. As the Dutch architect

Aldo van Eyck remarked, We must be-ware of the glove that fits all hands, andtherefore becomes no hand. Similarobjections came from another Dutch ar-chitect, Herman Hertzberger, in the early1960s: Flexibility signifies since thereis no single solution that is preferable toall others the absolute denial of a fixed,clear standpoint. The flexible plan starts

out from the certainty that the correctsolution to the problem does not exist,because the problem requiring solution

is in a permanent state of flux, i.e. it is al-ways temporary. Flexibility only has todo with uncertainty; with not daring to

commit oneself, and therefore with re-fusing to accept the responsibility that isinevitably bound up with each and everyaction that one takes.

But although Hertzberger was socritical of flexibility, he was nonethelesscommitted to producing buildings whosedesign did not irrevocably fix all future ac-tions and use. Hi s solution was what he

called polyvalent forms a form thatwithout changing itself, can be used forevery purpose and which, with minimal

flexibility, allows an optimal solution. Apolyvalent space was one in which peoplemight discover an alternative use, wheth-er or not such a use had been foreseen bythe architect; it was about creating oppor-tunities for imaginative reinterpretationby the buildings occupants. Such an ap-proach threw the responsibility onto us-ers, who were to be encouraged to trans-form what they had been given, or even,

more radically, to subvert the purposesplanned by the architect. Hertzbergers

designs for schools, housing, old peopleshomes, offices, and student housing epito-

mised this strategy that left it to the users

to decide the purposes of any particularspace. The opportunity for the user to be-come a creative agent in architecture,anticipated by Hertzberger, was to bethe basis for the return of the user into

architectural discourse in the 1990s. Thisdevelopment should be seen in relationto a general turn, in all art practices, to-

wards giving more attention to the waypeople receive a work of art, and less tothe meanings intended by their crea-tors . In literature, the act of reading hasbeen recognised as no less important thanthat of writing; in cinema, the viewer is

not merely the passive recipient of thedirectors intentions, but an individual

who interprets the film according to his

own identity and education. Likewise inarchitecture, the final destiny of the workis a contest between the intentions of thearchitect and client on the one hand, andthe user on the other. This insight into

the role of the user owes much to studiesof language and literature, as Hertzbergerhimself acknowledged.

The force of the analogy between read-ers and users had been anticipated by theFrench literary theorist Roland Barthes,

who, in a lecture on semiology and urban-ism given in 1967, remarked that the cityis a writing; the man who moves about inthe city, i.e. the citys user (which is what

we all are, users of the city), is a sort ofreader. This understanding of the useras an equivalent to the reader inspiredmuch interest in the late twentieth andearly twentyfirst century.

Flexibility does not necessarilycontribute to a better functioningof things (for flexibility can neverproduce the best imaginableresults for a given situation).

Herman Hertzberger 1967

Flexibility signifies since there isno single solution that is prefera-ble to all others the absolutedenial of a fixed, clear-cut stand-point. The flexible plan starts out

from the certainty that thecorrect solution does not exist,because the problem requiringsolution is in a permanent state offlux, i.e. it is always temporary.Flexibility is always inherent inrelativity, but in actual fact it onlyhas to do with uncertainty, withnot daring to commit oneself, andtherefore with refusing to acceptthe responsibility that is inevita-bly bound up with each and everyaction that one takes.

Herman Hertzberger in: Forum , vol.16, no.2, 1962

ntitled (Panel Building 2) / Detail

erlin, 2004


15/65


Adrian Forty is Professor of Architectural History

at The Bartlett School of Architecture at Univer-

sity College London, and President of the European

Architectural History Network. His main interest

is in the role of architecture and artefacts in the

social and mental life of societies. His researchincludes work on the design of consumer goods;

on language and architecture; and on architecture,collective memory, and forgetting. More recently,

Adrian Fortys research on the role of concrete as

a global medium is to be published in early 2012.

References

1. Henry Swain, Buildings for People, Journal of the

Royal Institute of British Architects, vol.68,

November 1961, p.508

2. Rem Koolhaas and Bruce Mau, S,M,L,XL, 010Publishers, Rotterdam, 1995, p.240

3. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Sp ace (1974),

translated D. Nicholson-Smith, Blackwell, Oxford,

1991, p.362.

4. Lefebvre, Production of Space, p.368

5. Aldo van Eyck, A Step Towards a Configurative

Discipline, Forum, vol.16, no.2, 1962 , p.93

6. Herman Hertzberger, Flexibility and Polyva-

lency, Forum, vol.16, no.2, Feb-March 1962, p.117

7.Roland Barthes, Semiology and Urba nism (1967)

in Joan Ockman (ed.), Architecture Culture 1943

1968. A Documentary Anthology, Rizzoli, NewYork, 1993, p.417.

8. Jonathan Hill, Actions of Architecture, Architec-

ture and Creative Users, Routledge, London and

New York, 2003, p.27.

nce the 1990s, the combination of oldereas about flexibility, coupled with new-

r ideas drawn from literary theory have,een taken up in various ways. There haseen a revival of attempts to create build-

ngs that are more indeterminate, thatill adapt better to changes in culturalnd social circumstances; but this newonjunction of ideas has also sustainedcritique of the conventional practice ofrchitecture, making it possible to thinkf architecture as more than just theork of architects. According to this argu-

ment, it is not just architects who makerchitecture: ar chitecture comes about

fter buildings are completed through thereative actions of their occupants. Somef these ideas have been articulated by

he architect and theorist Jonathan Hills part of a broader critique of the pro-ssionalisation of architecture into the

ands of a narrow group of experts; suchrofessionalisation has only been made

ossible by a deliberate restriction ofhe definition of architecture to whatrchitects do. Hills purpose is to expandhe definition of architecture to include

hat happens to buildings once they areccupied. Int erestingly, Hill prefers therm user to the alternatives occupant,ccupier or inhabitant, because it sug-

ests positive action and the potential for

misuse. In this new formulation, theser is no longer, as he or she was ear-er, a model citizen, whose behaviour andspirations are focused upon a normativeocial good, but instead becomes some-

ne with possibly mischievous or evenelinquent intentions. And as always,sers remain fictions, imaginary actors

n whom architects rely to be able to con-eive a life for buildings.

ntitled (Panel Building 1)

erlin, 2004


16/65

SUS-TAIN-ABLELIVING

8 D&A AUTUMN 2011 ISS UE 16

The house has grown into aknowledgeable witness. It hasbeen party to early seductions,t has watched homeworkbeing written, it has observed

swaddled babies freshly arrivedfrom hospital, it has beensurprised in the middle of thenight by whispered conferencesn the kitchen. [] Although thishouse may lack solutions to agreat many of its occupantslls, its rooms nevertheless giveevidence of a happiness to

which architecture has madets distinctive contribution.

lain de Botton in: The Architecture of Happiness, 2008, Chapter I.1.

29


17/65


50%Between 1945and 1980

19%After 1980

1%Yearlynew-built

0%efore 1945

Europeanbuilding stock

nly about 1% of the European building stock isewly built each year. Half of our entire buildingtock dates from the period between 1945 and980 and has now reached an age where a

major refurbishment is due.

pproximate average data from

ermany, France and Netherlands


18/65


WHATMAY THEFUTURE

HOLDFOR THISDUTCHTERRACED

HOUSE?Refurbishment and extension of ten terraced housesArchitects: BowhulpGroep, UtrechtAddress: Poorterstraat 2947, Montfoort, NLYear of construction: 1976


19/65


Dutch building

projects of the future look. A sleepyresidential street at the edge of asmall town south west of Utrecht,

flanked by terraced houses fromthe 1970s. Light brown colouredbricks, light blue weatherboards,

white plastic window frames and

low sloping tiled roofs. All sorts oflow picket fences from the build-ers supply store separate the lit-tle paved front gardens from thestreet. It could hardly be morenormal and that is exactly whatis unusual, because in the nextfew months, ten terraced houses

in this street will be converted intothe first active houses in Holland. When sustainable architec-ture is mentioned in Holland, itis usually relation to high-budgetshowcase projects: one-off officebuildings equipped with everyconceivable kind of technicalgadget, or city development pro-

grammes for which cradle tocradle gurus are hired as advi-sors. Although prestigious, theseprojects have little to do with theeveryday reality of most Dutchpeople. The reality is a residentialbuilding stock of millions of poorlyinsulated, single-glazed and quitenondescript terraced houses that

sprang up everywhere out of thepolders after the Second World

War but which have receivedhardly any attention over the pastfew decades, except for essentialrepair. But things have changed

with the latest economic crisis; ithas become clear that the attrac-

tion of short-term profitability

of newbuilds cannot be relied onin Holland either. The reality isPoorter Street in Montfoort.

Montfoort is a community of about13,000 inhabitants in the pastoral

green heart of the Randstad conur-bation. Only a few minutes off themotorway, you pass the signpostand then, for a long time, there isnothing. Along the country roadthere are rows of farmhouseswith open pastures in between.

After a while, a church steeple canbe seen in the distance. The roadinto the small town does not leadto its medieval centre but straightinto a 1970s housing estate. Once

there, you suddenly lose any senseof place, because this could be anyestate in Holland, from Roermondto Groningen or from Breskens to

Heerhugowaard. The centre of this1970s built area is called Hofland,consisting of a dozen peacefulresidential streets, with terracedhousing and little parking areas.On the west it is bounded directlyby open polders, on the east by a

large sports field. Montfoorts Poorter Streetdoes not have a good reputation.

Although it is not obvious at firstglance, the terraced houses on thestreetareallsocialhousing.Inmostother countries, it would be clearlyvisible in the architecture, but inthe Netherlands the liberal left

maxim ensured that social hous-

ing should look little different fromnormal homes. But if you take a sec-ond look, However, looking again,you notice that the parking spacesare filled with small older cars,

and that the front paths are madeup of paving slabs stuck together,

the weeds pushing up through thejoints.Asforthehousesthemselves,

thanks to cheap window framesand carelessly screwed togetherfacade elements, you can see thatthese do not exactly belong to the

most exclusive properties. The factthat this is not apparent sooner is

due to the relatively introverted

character of the houses themselves.Usually, the Dutch are known for

their big living room windows withno curtains, looking directly on tothe street, where the whole interi-

or can be taken in by the glance ofpassers-by. In Poorter Street only

the narrow slit windows of the stor-age room under the roof face thestreet, while the main facade withkitchen window is at the oppositeend of the entrance. Whether theinterior contains expensive de-signer furniture or cheap items

from the home store remains con-cealed from curious gazes. Onlythe mass-produced knick-knacksthat occasionally embellish a frontgarden reveal something about theresidents of the street.

In total there are 92 houses of this

type, all of which are due for com-plete modernisation. Nowadays,

with their poor insulation and oldboilers, they only rank energylabel . After the renovation this

should be improved to energy labelA. It is hoped that the ten houses

at the end of Poorter Street, whichwill be renovated as a pilot projectfor active houses, will afterwardsattain A++ standard. In their interiors it becomes

clear why these houses are suitablefor such a conversion: for Dutch

social housing, which are normallyvery small homes, they are surpris-

ingly spacious. Inside the entrance

In the little town of Montfoort in the coming months,ten 1970s terraced houses will be transformed intothe first Active Houses in Holland. But there is some-thing else that makes this project special it deals with social housing.

By Anneke Bokern

Photography by Torben Eskerod

PARTICULARLY

ORDINARY

Nowadays, with theirpoor insulation and oldboilers, they only rankEU energy label E.After the renovationthis should be improved

to energy label A.

Anneke Bokern


20/65


oor there is a little hallway lead-g directly into the kitchen and

ving room, which are arranged

a single large space of about 45quare metres or so, with the living

ea facing the small back garden.airs lead to the first floor, with an

ner, and therefore windowlessathroom, and three bedrooms,he largest of which has a small

orage space under the stairs. Thetic, reached by pull-down accessairs, also serves as a storage area.

So far, so normal. Despite allhe space, the houses interiorsill seem somewhat gloomy and

ppressive. This is due both to theosition of the kitchen window inpoorly lit corner of the building

the little fenced-in front gar-

en, but also due to the very lowilings, finished with cheap light-

bsorbing sprayed-on plaster. Theving room with corner kitchen istunnel-like space, where hardlyny daylight reaches the centre.

smells of leather sofa and theorning breakfast, but also of

amp grass from the garden as itas just rained and the doors arepen. Somehow the houses radi-e a 1970s atmosphere that flatreens and microwaves can dotle to change. From the distance,

heers are heard a television is

howing a football match from trecht. Otherwise all is quiet on

oorter Street.

verall you get the impression that

he architect didnt really knowhat to do with sloping roof; ex-

rnally it is so characteristic butternally it only forms storage

paces and prevents daylight fromaching the inner living spaces.

nd this despite using a layouthat is actually a standard Dutch

an type, the doorzonwoning orrough-lit house, whose main

uality should be that it admits

aylight from both sides.

Accordingly, one of the main goalsof the renovation is to bring morelight into the houses. This will be

achieved through the conversionof the attic space into an extra liv-ing room with roof terrace, a largearea of roof windows and a built-in

staircase. Through the new stair-well, daylight will be able to pen-etrate as far as the ground floor,on its way lighting the bathroomthrough a new internal window,

which is rare in the Netherlands.An equally important aspect of the

renovation is, of course, the energyimprovement of the buildings. Fa-cades and floors will be completelyre-insulated. The windows will betriple glazed and new zinc-cladroofs will be installed. On these

roofs, each house will be providedwith 23 square metres of solarcollectors. These will be supple-mented with a buffer storage tankfor solar heat, a low-energy heat-ing system with external air heatpump, and controlled ventilation,

activated by 2sensors. The tech-

nical plant will be placed mostly inthe ground floor storage room. Ob-

viously the kitchen and bathroomswill be completely modernised,and the general external finisheswill be upgraded. To achieve this,

old wall surfaces will be completelyreplaced with sintered white brick.Timber windows will replace the

old plastic frames, and under thewindows the upper floor will havetimber panels and the ground flooranthracite-coloured glass panels.

This should result in the housesinside and out being much friend-

lier and brighter. In addition, theywill have more living area and

consume less energy. The onlyquestion is how the housing as-sociation can finance such a far-reaching modernisation of socialhousing. The solution in this case

was an unconventional agreementwith the residents: what they saveon energy costs in the future will

be added to the rent. Thereby the

residents will incur no additionalcosts, while the housing associa-tion will, little by little, recoup its

investment. At the moment its still hard toimagine that, in a few months time,Poorter Street will be home to one

of the most advanced social hous-ing projects in the Netherlands.The row of houses seems like its

trapped in the 70s, as if it had beencast in jelly: not capable of move-

ment, but preserved. During day-time its completely peaceful inthe street. You can almost hear thepaint flaking off the weatherboard-ing. The only sign of the comingchaos is a solitary resident, carry-ing a pile of moving boxes under

his arm from his car into his house.Soon it will no longer be possible toagree such an exchange. Althoughyou would really hope that many

housing associations would followthe example, so that in future theterraced houses of Poorter Street

would become lost in the crowd,

nothing special, just as they wereduring the first 35 years of their

existence.

Anneke Bokernis a freelance archi-tecture and design journalist. Born

in Frankfurt am Main, she studied

history of art in Berlin and moved

to Amsterdam in 1999. She reportsfor German and international mediaabout architecture, art and design

from the Netherlands.

t the moment its still hard to imagine that, in aew months time, Poorter Street will be home tone of the most advanced social housing projectsthe Netherlands. The row of houses seems like

s trapped in the 70s, as if it had been cast in jelly:ot capable of movement, but preserved.

nneke Bokern


21/65


The Active House RadarMontfoort

Active House is a vision of buildings that create

healthier, more comfortable lives for their occu-pants without impacting negatively on the climate.

The Active House specification was created in 2011

as both a design tool and an assessment method to

enable architects and planners to create healthier,more sustainable buildings.

An Active house is evaluated on the basis of theinteraction between its energy balance, its indoorclimate conditions and its impact on the externalenvironment.

The three key principles of an Active House are:

Each of the three key principles consists of threeto four parameters (such as energy demand, indoor

air quality, and noise and acoustics), which are as-sessed both in quantitative and qualitative terms.The Active House Radar shows how all parameters

are balanced against each other.The Active House Radar (below) shows how all

parameters are balanced against each other.As therefurbishment of the houses is still on-going, the re-

sults are based on a qualified estimate of the even-tual outcome.

Energy

Contributes positively to the energybalance of the building

Indoor Climate

Creates a healthier and more comfortable life

Environment

Interacts positively with the environment

4.3 Freshwaterconsumption andwaste watertreatment

4.2 Environmentalloadings fromemissionsto air, soiland water

4.1 Consumptionof non -renewableenergy resources

3.5 Noise and acoustics 3.3 Thermal environment

3.2 Light andview out

2.3 Energy supply

2.2 Energy demand

2.1 An nual energyperformance

3.4 Indoo r air quality


22/65


Mr Korzelius, you are head of the

Groen West Housing Foundation,

which also encompasses Stichting

Woonbelangen Weidegebied(), the housing organisationresponsible for the Poorterstraat

project. What is the breakdown of

your organisations building stock? itself owns around 5,000apartments and detached houses,800 of which are in Montfoort. Atthe beginning of 2011, we merged

with another housing construc-

tion organisation and together wenow have around 12,000 homesspread all over the west of UtrechtProvince.

To what extent are the Poorterst-

raat houses representative of your

housing stock?

They are certainly representativeof our stock, much of which wasbuilt in the seventies and eightiesand is now ripe for a general over-

haul. This is what we are currentlyengaged in.

What do you consider to be the

strengths and weaknesses of your

houses?

Their greatest strength is that theyare big houses with big gardens.However, in construction termstheir condition leaves something

to be desired they require renova-tion. Because of their particularly

high future value, we have decidedto turn these into pilot homes.

What gives them a high future

value?They are big and they are in agood location. Normally, we writehomes off after fifty years, but

these houses will certainly con-tinue to turn in profits for anotherfifty years after the renovation.

Montfoort local authority islooking to become more activein the field of sustainability. Thisprompted us to announce, a few

years ago, that we intended to takeone of the houses in Poorterstraat

and do everything possible to bringit right into line with the latest en-ergy efficiency standards. This onehouse finally turned into ten reno-

vated homes that were all awardedan ++ rating, making them actu-ally more energy efficient than the

standard stipulated for new builds.

What made you launch this pilot

project?Theoretically, we could of course

have built new homes for the samemoney. However, we are faced by asituation in which we will have torenovate one third of our housingstock in other words 4,000 resi-dential units within the next fiveto seven years. This is an enormoustask. By running this project, we

wanted to gauge what it means toreally push back the boundariesof what is technically feasible: asmuch incidence of daylight as pos-sible, coupled with as little energyconsumption as possible.

We held a number of internaldebates on the issue. After the

merger especially, there was quitea considerable headwind of objec-tions to negotiate, as this is a costlyproject. After all, we are investing160,000 Euro in each residentialunit. But I have no doubt that thisproject will prove to be a good in-vestment over the next twenty tothirty years. Of cour se, we know

that what we are doing here cannotbe repeated for 4,000 residentialunits to be honest we simplydont have the money for that.But we will be able to draw on as-pects that have proven successfuland that can be repeated in other

renovation projects. Its also aboutthe learning effect.

What will the occupants notice aftertheir home has been turned into an

active house?They will move back into a highlyeconomical home that uses hard-ly any energy. The costs of fossil

fuels are growing higher every

year, meaning that energy costscontinue to account for an evergreater proportion of living outlay.This is why investing in reducing

energy costs is now a worthwhileobjective. Added to this, of course,is the fact that the residents gain

an enormous new room with therenovated attic space, and an op-timum level of daylight.

How would you describe this quar-

ter? From what I hear, these streets

used to have a bad reputation.

Yes, Poorterstraat was not thechoicest neighbourhood. Natu-rally, there is also some socialhousing. Our target group is peo-ple requiring a minimal amount

of support who do not necessarilyhave any capital behind them. In atown made up largely of privatelyowned properties, this does notexactly enhance the reputationof an area. However, this is oftennothing more than an image issue.People build up an opinion about

a street and its inhabitants whichhas nothing to do with reality. Thisis why it is such a good thing thatthis street has been chosen as thepilot project.

Peter Korzeliusis Chief Executive

of the GroenWest Housing Foun-

dation, created from a merger in

January 2011 of several social hous-ing organisations including SWW

(Stichting Woonbelangen Weide-

gebied), of which Korzelius was CEOand whose building stock included

the houses in Poorterstraat.

ITS ALSO

ABOUT THE

LEARNING

EFFECTInterview with Peter Korzelius

his one house finallyurned into ten renovatedomes that were allwarded an A++ rating,

making them actuallymore energy efficienthan the standardtipulated for new builds.

eter Korzelius


23/65


Mr Jonkers, you are the council-

lor with responsibility for regionaldevelopment and housing on the

Montfoort Local Council. How

long have you been involved in lo-

cal politics?

I held a seat on the local councilfrom 2002 to 2006, then I tooktime out and returned in 2010.

Do you live in Montfoort yourself?Yes, I have lived here for almosttwenty years.

Do you think the community has

changed much over this period?

Not really, I think Montfoort is aquiet little town.

Is it growing or shrinking?Well, we are positioned in whatthey call the green heart of

Randstad. This is a conservationarea whose rural character has to

be maintained. This means that

throughout this province, newhousing and extension projects areonly possible within a very limitedframework, that our growth is re-

stricted and at the same time weare catering to an ageing popula-tion.

What type of flats or homes are re-

quired in Montfoort?To cater to the age structure, werequire primarliy homes suit-

able for retired and elderly people.Affordable housing for youngermembers of the population is alsoan issue. Property prices here arevery high, which leaves young

people with hardly any chanceof buying their own home. At thesame time, for the reasons alreadystated, our hands are tied when itcomes to building affordable newhousing. In my view, the state doesfar too little to create living spacefor young people.

Is there currently a lot of renovation

work going on in Montfoort?Yes, the social housing organisa-tion is doing a lot of renova-tion. There are several districts

located around the historic cen-tre of the town that date back tothe post-war years and urgentlyneed to be brought up to modernstandards. This also applies tothe homes in Poorterstraat. As acouncil, with this type of project

we are attempting to instil in theresidents the importance of sus-tainability in house construction.

What is the significance of thePoorterstraat project in this con-

text?The project is unique because it isnot just about sustainability but

about active homes. This makesit special not just for Montfoortbut for the whole of Holland.

How would you describe the stand-

ard of living in Montfoort?

Montfoort is very green. Althoughit has a large city just around thecorner, with Utrecht not far away,the feeling is certainly a rural one.Officially Montfoort has a towncharter, but it has a very village-

like feel. The centre is very at-tractive, even though a lot of oldbuildings were torn down in theeighties. We have a lively cultureof clubs and associations, and as

Montfoort is a Catholic enclave ina Protestant area, we are a proudbastion of the carnival tradition.There is a big carnival procession

here every year, made up of almosta hundred floats.

What can you, as a councillor, do to

promote these qualities?

My aim is first and foremost tonurture our thriving club and as-

sociation culture and to make this aplace in which people can live fromthe cradle to the grave. Currently,there are too many people movingaway when they reach a certain age.

Rob Jonkersis an independentcouncillor on the Montfoort LocalCouncil with responsibility forregional development, housingand transport.

WE TRY TO

INSTILL IN THE

RESIDENTS THE

IMPORTANCE OF

SUSTAINABILITY

IN HOUSE

CONSTRUCTIONInterview with Rob Jonkers


24/65


Why did you move here three years

ago?

: Well, we didnt have any choice.I was newly divorced and this wasthe house I was allotted by thehousing society.

How do you like the area?

: Its quite nice. We dont havethat much contact with the neigh-bours. Most of them just pass us by.I think thats obvious, because wedont live out on the street thatmuch. The others are always sit-ting in their front gardens talkingto each other. Thats not how we

are. Do you know the Dutch com-

edy series they used to air on televi-sion in the eighties about a family

of chavs called Flodder? Some ofthe neighbours here remind meof them. The street doesnt have agood reputation.

Is that still the case? I had heard

that it used to be like that but is not

any more.

: Well, I am really not proud ofmy address. When people ask me

where I live, I try and wriggle outof telling them.

And the house itself? Do you feel

comfortable living in it?

: Yes, it is great. We once lived inanother house of the same type in

this housing development. So weknew what to expect. I also have ason who is visiting his father today.His room is rather small. But oth-erwise the house is good. Exceptfor the fact that the bathroom iscovered in mould.

So will your son soon be getting the

large room in the attic?

: No, I will be getting it! Initiallyhe protested, but the room wonthave a door, just an open staircase.That was a powerful argument be-cause he doesnt want that.

What else are you hoping to get out

of the renovation?

: A lot of light and a good floor

plan so that the house will seemmore spacious. In any event, wefeel very positive about the reno-

vation. And we certainly wont besorry to see the brown tiled floor

in the living room go.

nterview withCorine van Velzen

orine van Velzen lives with herwo teenage children in Poorter-raat 31. She moved into the house

hree years ago after she was di-orced from her former husband.

We wont be sorry to see thebrown tiled floor go


25/65


How long have you been living here?

: We have been living here for

four years. Before that, for 15 years

I had an apartment in Woerden. I

lived there for a year and a half withmy girlfriend. But it got too small,

and they had a vacancy here. At

the beginning I found it difficult tosettle in. But it is nearer to where

I work, and we have some nice

neighbours. I dont really want to

go away from here.

What do you specially like about

this house?

: The size. Otherwise there is

nothing special about it.

Do you have a favourite spot in the

house?: No, we like sitting everywhere.

Only the kitchen is rather imprac-

tical. Its not good even though the

housing society installed it accord-

ing to our specifications, because

the kitchen of the previous tenants

didnt comply with building regu-

lations. But we didnt plan it very

well because we can only sit next to

each other at the table and not op-

posite each other. So now we have

planned to have the kitchen relo-

cated to the front of the room in the

renovation.

What are you planning to do with

the additional room in the attic?

: We dont know yet. We first

thought that we would use it as our

bedroom, but my girlfriend would

prefer to sleep on the floor where

the toilet is.

Are you glad that your house was in-

cluded in the pilot project?

: Yes and no. We wouldnt have

had to move out if it had been only

a simple renovation.

And what do you think of the idea

that the houses will be fitte d with so-

lar panels and heat pumps?

: That is all new for us. We dont

know yet how that will turn out.

Well, the houses will become ac-

tive houses and will regulate many

things themselves.

: Oh dear ... and when I get home,

will the meal already be ready?

: I think it is a good project. And

for that we are also prepared to

move out for a couple of months.

Even though my girlfriend will

only be moving out with great re-

luctance.

Interview withRon Vermeulen andLoes Oenema

I dont really want to go away from here

Ron Vermeulen lives with his

girlfriend Loes Oenema in

Poorterstraat 37. They moved

into this area four years ago

when their previous apartment

became

da16 complete

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