(un)Wordless Wednesday

It’s hopeless to call this post wordless, but I’ll keep it as brief as possible!  Yesterday’s post about “sense of place” got me thinking about the trip my family took to Ireland several years ago.  (Someday I’ll get my old computer’s hard drive hooked up to my new one and find those pictures for you!)

If you ever have the opportunity to travel the Irish countryside, you will see how unchanged it has remained.  (In fact, there are many places where ridges from the old potato farms are still visible on the green, rolling hills.)  Homes traditionally had large, sloping, thatched roofs.  They would develop into a form with a chimney at each end of the home, anchoring a more traditional peaked roof, beginning as thatch but turning into more contemporary roofing materials.  The twin-chimney form is still commonly used in new construction.

Enjoy the pretties below!

Come back tomorrow for more ramblings about sense of place!


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Timeless Trait Tuesday – Sense of Place

I want to propose “sense of place” as an important trait of timeless design. It’s what gives our buildings and our homes, and for many of us, our lives, roots. It’s both a figurative and literal connection to our neighborhood, our society, our culture and our environment. Where I live is very different than Los Angeles, Seattle, New York or Chicago, because my city has its own story, its own past. It has a different pace of life than New York, a different set of values than Los Angeles, a different climate than Seattle and a different economical basis than Chicago. (I’m from the Midwest, and while that conjures up an image of a wholesome, corn-fed (make that meat and potatoes) girl, the states of the Midwest are large enough and widespread enough to create a wide range of differences.) There are two ways to look at sense of place: vernacular architecture and traditional architecture.

Vernacular architecture is the result of necessity, availability and function. These are the structures built by their inhabitants, using the materials and technologies they found close at hand. Think adobe homes in the Americas, mud or stone huts in Africa, yurts in Mongolia. Some vernacular structures were permanent, but some were moveable (think teepees!) as a result of nomadic societies.

(South Africa; Mongolia; Indonesia; Nepal; Inuit igloo)

Traditional architecture is, well, what we study in history classes, those buildings that can be categorized into a specific movement or style with recognizable features, the ones conceived and designed by trained architects. A quote on Wikipedia calls traditional architecture “polite” in comparison to vernacular buildings.

They sound like similar terms, and we might look upon the word “vernacular” in a somewhat endearing way, but if you ask a trained architect, they probably take a different view. For example:

Ronald Brunskill has defined the ultimate in vernacular architecture as: “…a building designed by an amateur without any training in design; the individual will have been guided by a series of conventions built up in his locality, paying little attention to what may be fashionable.  The function of the building would be the dominant factor, aesthetic considerations, though present to some degree, being quite minimal.  Local materials would be used as a matter of course, other materials being chosen and imported quite exceptionally.”  (Wikipedia)

The Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture of the World defines vernacular architecture as: “…comprising the dwellings and all other buildings of the people.  Related to their environmental contexts and available resources they are customarily owner- or community-built, utilizing traditional technologies.  All forms of vernacular architecture are built to meet specific needs, accommodating the values, economies and ways of life of the cultures that produce them.”  (Wikipedia)

Is there a happy medium between the traditional and the vernacular?  I’m just going to say that yes, there is.  But what does it look like?  How is it created?  What do we call it?

With Frank Lloyd Wright, we called it the Prairie style:

  1. influenced by the architectural tradition of Louis Sullivan
  2. horizontal structures designed to mimic surrounding environment (primarily Illinois and Wisconsin)
  3. low-hanging eaves and low-set ribbon windows to connect inside and out (interior decorative details also reflected this theme)
  4. construction materials sourced locally, again reflecting those found naturally in the surrounding environment
  5. later works influenced by Japanese architecture (vernacular forms which created traditional architecture)

                   FLW home and office; Oak Park, IL.                   Structure at Ise Shrine; Japan


Robie House; Illinois

Martin House; Illinois

With Australian architect Glenn Murcutt, we’re calling it……..                                        well, the jury’s still out on that one:

  1. seeks to build “buildings that respond to their environment” (via)
  2. respond to climate
  3. like FLW, horizontal lines complement the Australian landscape

It is Murcutt’s use of materials and technology in response to heat, light, and the elements that set him apart from other architects. Louvred panels, low eaves, and various sun-shading designs are the most noticeable details.                                         (photos from Pritzker Architecture Prize website)

OK.  So, how else can we create a sense of place, besides responding to the environment or vernacular tradition?  Well, I’m not entirely sure.  But here are some thoughts:

  1. family is the source of our roots – perhaps heirloom or hand-me-down pieces connect us with those who we identify with
  2. maybe it’s making sure that the homes we build not only reflect our sensibilities, but are visually related to the other buildings in the neighborhood/city/region
  3. using local materials – stone from local quarries, wood reclaimed from old barns in your state, support of your neighborhood thrift/antique/secondhand stores
  4. using native plants in landscaping

I’ve found this to be a difficult post to put together, because sense of place can mean many things to many people.  I think for me, it means surrounding myself with the things I love, things that remind me of my family, of my values.  It’s hard to feel rooted in your surroundings when you’re renting a townhouse.

I really want to hear your thoughts!!