Originally published October 2022.
An engaged response to a passing Tweet, ‘Why do we fetishise plain old buildings?’
As someone who has built a business sourcing, acquiring, and adapting a variety of building types over the years, this question provoked an immediate reaction from me. As an advocate for adaptive reuse, I have felt strongly about fighting to protect our built heritage for years – but an even greater reason to do so has emerged that will change how we measure the value of old buildings for good…
Continuity and identity
The last month has given us great cause to stop and reflect on the historic institution of the British monarchy. No one could watch the late Queen’s funeral procession advancing slowly down Whitehall, or view her coffin lying in state in Westminster Hall – one of the most historic rooms in one of the most historic buildings in Britain – without considering the role of the Royal Family in British identity, both nationally and on the global stage.
The Queen was the longest-reigning English monarch and a cornerstone of the national identity. Her commitment to her people and her country were rightly celebrated and lauded, her forbearance and sense of duty held up as quintessentially British qualities.
And time and time again in the days after her death, we heard members of the press, Parliament and public talking about how she provided the nation with a sense of continuity – a constant, unchanging reference point to look to in a fast-moving, ever-changing world.
That is the role of monoliths and monarchs – to be constants amidst the flux. Tradition casts a powerful spell. We pass traditions from generation to generation, nurturing and respecting them, and are grateful for the sense of meaning and belonging they impart.
The role of our built heritage
In some ways, our built heritage plays a similar role. Historic buildings can provide a sense of history and continuity that is closely connected to questions of national and individual identity.
But buildings do more than that. They provide a narrative through line for our cities, a physical embodiment of the idea of continuity. A building is a moment captured in time – many layered moments, actually – and holds within itself something of culture and the building blocks of a society.
In London, our rich patchwork of buildings, from the historic to the hyper-modern, tell us about the capital and about ourselves. People designed, built and used these buildings. Lived and worked out their lives within these walls. Their feet crossed “the ancient floor, Footworn and hollowed and thin”, and we feel closer to them, and somehow closer to London, when ours do the same.
History in physical space
Our engagement with these buildings, then, is ultimately about engagement with our history. To put that another way, it’s to do with finding our place in the city – working out how and where we fit amidst so many centuries of people and their stories.
