LITTLE ROCK — Perched on the seventh floor of a 1920s-era Little Rock office high-rise, I can see and hear the awful process of a building being torn to shreds and hauled off to a landfill outside my window. Two machines with the ferociousness of a pair of Tyrannosaurus Rex tear into whatever lies in front of them. They are ugly beasts, and I’m glad I’m at a safe distance. It’s between Christmas and the new year, and the office and phones are quiet. So here I am, trying to focus on my work, and the only noise I can hear is the tearing of steel and the collapse of concrete. I am witnessing the demolition of the old KARK headquarters at the corner of 3rd and Louisiana streets.
As an architect, seeing a building being torn down is a bit gut-wrenching. I know there’s a lot of energy and work involved in construction-not only from a designer’s perspective, but from countless others who were involved.No evidence of that will remain now. But don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I believe in saving every building-I don’t. I will admit I’m not really that disturbed by this building’s demolition, or else I could have chained myself to some column and faced down those mechanical dinosaurs. But, it just wasn’t that attractive of a building, and so it goes down with little, if any, resistance. But the demolition of the KARK building reminds me of another building recently lost, the old Kempner Bros. Shoe Store on Main Street. This building had a lot more to love about it-particularly a neoclassical façade with terra cotta detailing and ornamentation that has pretty well vanished from the architectural scene today. I imagine that one came down with slightly more resistance. Clearly, one of these buildings was a greater loss to the cityscape than the other. Some buildings are just more valuable than others, though the question of“how valuable” is left up to the current building’s owner-as it should be. But still, the act of demolition goes against my grain. Especially in today’s age of hyper-sensitivity to the environment, energy consumption and building green, demolition and throw-away buildings just seem like something we’ve moved beyond. It just seems like an awful waste. It seems so old school.
So as I consider the demolition of some of Little Rock’s buildings downtown, I am left wondering how what we build today can be thought of as something intended to last generations. How do we get to a point where a project undertaken today will never experience a dishonorable demise like this? I am left with a question I find increasingly difficult to answer. How can I play a role in designing a building that will serve generations?
As I ponder this question-and believe me, I think about it regularly-I see myself walking the streets of Rome as an architectural student. In the heart of the ancient city there are hundreds of buildings, most of them nondescript, though still beautiful works of craftsmanship in their own right. Each has seen centuries of history and use. Of course Rome has its landmarks that no one would dare demolish, as does Little Rock. But what is remarkable about Rome and so many other European cities is the multitude of anonymous buildings and spaces between that are just as much a part of defining that city’s sense of place as the landmarks we see on postcards. So though it may seem at first glance that what we need are more demo-proof landmarks (though some of us architects seem to be seeking to build the next landmark-I think as a result of decades of misguided architectural schooling), truly what we lack is regularity and consistent density. We lack cohesiveness and predictability, to the point where the spaces between never have the opportunity to evolve naturally and be left alone. If we give our city a facelift too often, eventually it is not known to anyone. We threaten character of place, we threaten memory, and ultimately we undermine our heritage.
But I presume the problem is more complex than I have made it out to be. Though I have no first-hand experience, obviously, I am convinced that previous generations had a completely different attitude about building than we do today. Take the Pulaski County Courthouse, or the State Capitol. These grand structures were boldly conceived and expertly executed in their craft and construction. Political controversy aside in the construction of the Capitol building, we’re left with a gorgeous and aweinspiring limestone-clad structure-still in use. I’m doubtful we would have the gumption to attempt a structure for government like that today. What about our churches? A century ago, they were the most important buildings in town-and today we still admire them and worship in them. What about new churches being built today? Though I hate to be so cynical,I sure see a lot of painted concrete block and cheap metal. Is this the best we can do in worship of a God that provided us with oxygen?
If our attitude in building in the first place was, “This building will stand for generations,” just as John Ruskin once argued over 150 years ago, perhaps the idea of demolition would become a thing of the past. Or at least we would see much less of it. We might then build to last-employing timeless design principles, quality materials, detailing and craftsmanship, widespread use of proven architectural language instead of the latest fad, and abandoning the search for the “maintenance free” building-the greatest fallacy of all time in the business of building. To understand my point, just take a quick glance across the street from the KARK building. There are two beautiful buildings that someone loved enough to rehabilitate into a great new school. How fantastic is this?
Give me an old wood window that I can repair and re-glaze versus expensive, insulated glass that depends on a seal that will fail in 15 years-thereby rendering the entire window assembly worthless-any day. I can save energy by other means-but at least I don’t end up with a building that has to be thrown away. Sustainable architecture and building green is so much more than the latest recycled carpet and mechanical gizmo-it’s building smart from the start. It is building something that can be maintained and appreciated by future generations. It isn’t something likely to be published on the magazine covers. It is common sense, it is solid, is it flexible, and it serves the building occupants well and comfortably.
Hopefully, it is something that someone 50 to 100 years from now, or more, decides is worth saving.
Aaron C. Ruby is an architect. He lives in Little Rock.
Perspective, Pages 74 on 01/23/2011