Traditional Urbanism, Architecture and the Building Crafts

I had opportunity this summer to participate for two weeks in a Traditional Architecture Summer School held in the municipality of Valderredible in the region of Cantabria, Spain. Rural and remote is a conservative description for Valderredible which maintains a population of less than a thousand people in approximately 120 square miles of land area. First of all I'd like to express that the programme was exceedingly well organised and clearly well funded. We were quite literally wined, dined and otherwise had our physical needs well cared for in comfortable accommodations which facilitated the getting down to the business of the programme itself...well, that may require a bit more explanation.

What was a craftsman doing at an architectural summer school?

Although there is an open enrollment, the programme makes a concerted effort to encourage applications from current students of architecture or recent graduates; it's essentially structured for this demographic. Furthermore, the summer school's primary focus is on traditional urbanism which you could alternatively describe as how traditional villages developed and were arranged spatially using architecture as a means of societal organisation. At first glance, this sounds a long way off from my typical daily activity as a traditional plasterer and stone carver. However, a closer look at the institutions taking the lead in organising the programme is revealing.

The International Network for Traditional Building, Architecture & Urbanism (INTBAU) has incorporated into its very name the notion that craftsmen, architects and urbanists need to be networked for a resulting traditional built environment to be even possible. In that spirit the INTBAU chapter serving Spain and Portugal has gone so far as to organise an online Network of Traditional Building Masters. Earlier in the year, a member of the faculty had strongly encouraged me to attend the summer programme. As it turned out, I was called upon on numerous occasions to comment on the materials, means and methods of the traditional buildings, largely consisting of stone masonry buildings with earthen and lime based mortars and renders. This did seem practically useful to the students' understanding of how the architecture of Valderredible was initially constructed, how it functioned, what constituted proper maintenance and avoiding using some modern materials and methods that could damage these otherwise enduring structures.

Image courtesy of Christopher Miller

Nevertheless, there was perhaps other less tangible benefits from including the perspective of a traditional craftsman in the programme. For example, I personally learned a lot about how these very successful villages were put together. This is something I'd never studied formally and I would say my experience is typical of most traditional craftsman. The faculty clearly held a lot of insight into why the individual buildings were oriented in the manner they were, why and how they adapted to the landscape, how as an ensemble they created places ideal for human gathering and social interaction. This type of knowledge contributed to my own urban literacy, my ability to speak the same language for possible future collaborations with architects working in an urban context. Additionally, I was in turn able to share my perspective on the redemptive power of traditional handcraft, the concentration of human attention to the smallest parts being essential to the function and the lovability of the greater whole.

Why were any of us there?

So I've made a case for why I was there but perhaps the larger question is why any of us were there. After all, only a small percentage of the population lives in the countryside (Spain has moved from an urban population of 11% in 1800 to 80% currently). This valley in particular was massively depopulated, currently at just a 20% capacity of its former peak population with many buildings and entire communities simply abandoned despite an overall population increase for the country. Furthermore, nothing has been built with traditional materials such as stone and adobe in this valley for decades. The few new buildings or additions follow those of the modern city, constructed of the typical glass, concrete and steel of industrial construction. Similarly, any new urbanism projects center around a suburban "carchitecture" model based on automobile needs such as parking and traffic flow.

From a certain perspective, as I suspect is held widely by industry and the academy, such a study as led by our summer programme is a nostalgic, romantic waste of time. We're modern, humanity lives almost exclusively in cities now. Our architecture resembles our food, clothes and medicine: efficient industrial production from which there is no going back, only progress as led by further technological development. Except I think many people are increasingly beginning to question that narrative. Perhaps the most compelling motivation against this view is a rapidly growing panic that our current bureaucratic and industrial systems finely attuned for the maximum exploitation of the earth's resources are going to at worst get us all killed or at the very least leave an extremely diminished quality of existence for our children.

In my opinion, INTBAU and this summer programme is part of a larger counter-cultural movement that questions the direction the built environment has taken over the past century and dares to consider that there may be some wisdom in addressing our current ecological and social challenges by studying the lessons physically embedded in the traditional architecture of just a few generations ago, particularly in areas where it can still be seen operating in the somewhat preserved context as exists in Valderredible. Not that the traditional way of life there remains perfectly undisturbed. Far from it, all of the industrial ways of building and food production have caught up to the valley and the spiritual and social conditions that nurtured the former sustainable and human villages into being initially no longer exist. So our task there as architect, craftsman and urbanist might also have been akin to the archaeologist and anthropologist attempting to decipher from the physical vestiges that remain why folks built the way they did and how they were able to use the local resources at their disposal to create an almost entirely self sufficient culture, one that went beyond mere sustainability rather was generative of life. Not too long ago we could say the Valderredible fared better because human beings were there. That's a model worth paying attention to.

What did we accomplish?

Image courtesy of Christopher Miller

After a week of observation of the existing building details, architecture and urbanism of the municipality we were set about to put the lessons we were learning to use on an challenging proposal: How might the capital of the municipality, Polientes be expanded to accommodate a larger population? The implication was that the work on Polientes could serve as a model for a responsible expansion of the villages throughout the valley. The goal was obviously not to recreate or reinstate the past, rather to take it into account, adapting lessons of value from the past in the present whilst incorporating a few things of value that mankind has learned along the way. As it turns out this is not so simple, largely because I think what our forefathers accomplished there was exceedingly well done and sensible.

A number of questions arose that did not achieve complete consensus or conclusion. This I think is entirely understandable and to be expected when treating with a deeply complex environment. One ought approach such a place as Valderredible with a good amount of humility. One of those questions was whether or not we should build anything new at all? After all Polientes has a current population of about 200, probably about a quarter of its capacity of about 800 were all the existing buildings to be occupied. However, it was generally felt important for the students to incorporate the lesson of planning for additional building that respected an existing context so a large expansion of the village was decided upon.

Another question was where to build? An observation I and several others had made was that for the most part traditional buildings had been placed upon rocky, challenging land. Any arable land, either by the river or the sloping hills, had been reserved for husbandry or agriculture.

Then there was the question of what to build, more housing i.e.? A thriving, self-sufficient community has infrastructure needs beyond housing. My group in particular focused on buildings for craft workshops, bodegas for wine, storage for municipality equipment. Every village needs a good closet nearby to place the junk we need but don't always want to look at every day! Others focused on public, cultural institutions such as schools and museums.

Image courtesy of Christopher Miller

Many productive conversations revolved around how to build? As previously mentioned, the traditional architecture of Valderredible is exterior stone masonry utilising the local limstone and sandstone with adobe interior partitions, all of which receive earthen and lime mortars and renders. Doors windows and roof framing were all made from the plentiful oaks of the surrounding forests. The majority of roofing was terra cotta; however, there was some indication that thatch had been used previously. all of these materials had been previously sourced and produced locally. Unfortunately, from my inquiries it appeared that no traditional craftsmen or manufacturers of traditional materials remain in the valley. Nevertheless, perhaps that could be viewed as a future opportunity for a meaningful, contributing sector of the population to renew itself.

All in all I'd say that you can't look as carefully as we all did for those intense couple of weeks at this little chunk of paradise, nature under mankind's beneficent influence, without being profoundly affected. Architecture has the potential to be a very noble profession that carries with it aesthetic and moral responsibility. The way we build today affects peoples lives in very direct ways and often across multiple generations. At the conclusion of the programme the students presented some worthwhile ideas through lovely drawings at a well attended public event of the local population. However, I think all of us were most moved internally, more sensible to an inner narrative of truth that we can contribute in a positive way to society and create places worth caring about, places we would be happy to call home.

 Contributed by Patrick Webb