or: What can be learned from philosophical perspectives on impermanence to broaden our understanding of historic preservation and advocate for the implementation of adaptive reuse?

[The following is a selection from the last portions of my thesis project for my Master’s in Preservation Design]

The acceptance of impermanence is already present in the western tradition of preservation in the form of adaptive reuse. At the same time, it is seldom celebrated by old-guard preservationists and those of the purist perspective. With its focus on authenticity, many preservationists have become terrified of the resulting change found in the theory of impermanence, and as an extension, adaptive reuse. The dread of fraying the “historic fabric” also plays a role in this fear, as preservationists are often lectured on this concept in school without subsequent argument against it. But the truth of samsara, and by extension, the truth of impermanence is such that it is understood by all inherently. 

Samsara manifests itself in a different form in the practice of preservation. It is through the methods of restoring plaster, wood, brick, and stone, that preservationists learn about how materials degrade, that materials are impermanent. They are taught to accept this impermanence of elements while not extending this acceptance to the buildings made up by them. But the truth is that all things are impermanent. Buildings are impermanent, not simply the elements that create the whole. 

This ignorance in impermanence is seen in how authenticity is viewed in the Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for Rehabilitation. When one is replacing a window, the Secretary’s Standards recommend that the replacement be of the same style as the original for the sake of authenticity. The same is true of doors and other architectural elements. These recommendations are examples of what authenticity means in the United States’ preservation rhetoric. What is authentic in western preservation is an understanding and replication of the original architecture, exemplified in the de facto motto of the Department of the Interior: “Identify, Retain, and Preserve.” 

For some structures, this is a succinct and desirable course of action. When structures in the need for preservation are still under the same use as the original, it is only rational to employ similar elements as the original, paying respect to the structures’ builders and designers. Structures, where this mode can and should be used, include historic sites of important persons, and sites where the design of the structure is the main purpose for the preservation efforts. In these cases, this mode of preservation does not go against the idea of samsara —the fact of impermanence— as there has not been the element of death in the structure. 

For other structures, where the original use of the structure has died —be it an underutilized department store, factory, motel, or mansion— the practicality of keeping the site to the original plan is typically outweighed by the needs of the community surrounding it. This is seen in the previous example of the National Civil Rights Museum. While originally a motel, the Lorraine did not provide for the community as it once did. In other words, the use of the building died. The creators of the NCRM rightly foresaw that the original plan of the site would be impractical as a museum, and they made changes to fit the new use. In doing so, these preservationists wisely oversaw the structures’ rebirth. Similar cases exist across the United States. Think of the factories, the shopping malls, the coal mines. Sites that existed and served a certain function but overtime saw that function diminished into obscurity, reaching into decay. 

One such site was previously a bank serving residents of Chicago’s South Side. Recently, Chicago resident and renowned artist, Theaster Gates, took it upon himself to purchase this site. Recognizing that it’s use as a bank had died a long time ago, he gave it new life through a process of adaptive reuse, bringing its rebirth. Now, through Gates’ vision, the site has become a space of culture, with artist residencies, a collection of records, as well as a complete collection of Jet and Ebony magazines. This effort to preserve the site and transform it with a new use has done something higher than the preservation of architectural relics. This transformation is one of Gates’ projects that serves to preserve his community —the community of the South Side in Chicago— and to help rebuild it after a long period of neglect by the government of Chicago.  

This reuse of a historic structure is not a new phenomenon, it is older than preservation itself. Adaptive reuse was seen in the Pantheon in its transformation from a Pagan temple to a Roman Catholic church, as well as the Hagia Sophia into a mosque from a church. In the mid-twentieth century, Carlo Scarpa was perhaps the best example of this process of adaptive reuse. Scarpa’s work was limited in number, but all of his works have been championed by architects for decades since their design. Unique to most architects, Scarpa’s work was primarily focused on the repurposing of historic structures. Scarpa stated, “By restauro [restoration] is not meant only to repair old buildings, our duty is rather to give them a new lease of life so that we may be able to live today and tomorrow.” While it is impossible to state if Scarpa was familiar with the concept of samsara, he had a supposed understanding of impermanence. Indeed, to Scarpa, restoration projects meant bringing new life to old structures. 

For Scarpa, Gates, and others who advocate for adaptive reuse, there is an apparent acceptance of the fact of impermanence. This manifests itself in assessing historic structures and bringing about a rebirth after their death through a process of adaptive reuse. While yes, it is important to protect our cultural heritage, the current preservation movement has become so widespread in its efforts that it misses the forest for the trees. There are certainly structures worth saving in their entirety, but there are far, far more that are shells of their former selves. For these structures, there needs to be an acceptance of their death, and preservationists should focus on providing for the needs of communities in their adaptive reuse and rebirth. In doing so, preservation can finally place the importance of community and people above historic structures. 

While it is important to recognize the founders of the preservation movement and their victories in preserving historic structures, it is equally important to recognize their flaws. These forbears all had their own biases that seeped into their theory and practice. For some of these preservationists, nationalistic and xenophobic inclinations percolated into their practice, leading to the gentrification of the cities that they held so dear. Indeed, the early movement was based on the theory of exclusively white upper-class individuals. While diverse in gender representation, the early movement lacked important voices such as immigrant communities as well as people of color, leading to the prejudices of the early movement.

As time went on, preservation became a more professional practice. This professionalization is seen in the desire for the preservation of cultural identity and a search for historic authenticity in projects. On one end, the preservation of cultural identity led to a more political practice as this method expanded to include voices previously left out from the discourse, especially the voices and the built environments of people of color. The other end —the search for historic authenticity— led to a more purist practice, focused on this authenticity through a western understanding and culminating in the Secretary’s Standards. These shifts toward the more political and purist aspects of the movement notably left out the aesthetic-revisionist school. The shift to the political side has created a more inclusive movement, helping tell the stories and histories of communities of color. At the same time, the shift to the more purist school has created a space where dramatic adaptive reuse is seen as a lesser practice. 

This bias towards a flawed view of authenticity is seen in the focus on preserving the historic fabric of communities. The focus led to the creation of historic districts across the United States, where governmental organizations have final say over the fate of the structures within the boundaries. This process of preserving the historic fabric leads to areas set at a certain point in time, providing for a false sense of history. Truthfully, cities have changed over their lifetime through the needs and desires of the communities that inhabit them, and to limit the cultural expression of these communities through a government body is a practice in creating false permanence through a set view on authenticity. When one questions the theory of authenticity, it is clear that the concept is so relative that it holds practically no weight at all. 

The myth of permanence is a compelling one, especially in societies and cultures —including the United States— where it is hardly questioned. This myth was introduced to the preservation movement at its beginnings through the western perspectives of its forbears. The professionalization of the preservation movement created a space where the purist and political perspectives have shined in recent years while the process of adaptive reuse that results in major changes in historic structures continues to be undervalued. Through this research, it became apparent that the practice of preservation lacks a wholistic understanding of object permanence. 

There is also an obvious blind spot in the current movement when it comes to non-western perspectives and authenticity. This was meant to be partially addressed by the Nara Document, in the form of expanding what authenticity is. Sadly, this small change in preservation practicum is limited in its scope, as it only addresses the idea of relative authenticity, not the fact of impermanence. While there is much to be learned from non-western perspectives when it comes to the practice of preservation, it was found through this research that the concept of impermanence is not foreign to western philosophy. Indeed, the Ship of Theseus quandary discovered through this research provides a base where this idea of object permanence can start to be adequately questioned. While this thought experiment provides for the questioning, the mode of answering is best done through separate, non-western theory. 

It is through the concepts of anatta and samsara that the object permanence fallacy can come under examination. In the Buddhist theory that was researched, these concepts are typically displayed in regards to living beings; but they can also be used as a way to understand the fact that all objects are impermanent, including cultural heritage. Indeed, impermanence is already understood in preservationist circles. The fact of impermanence is seen in how the materiality and elemental aspects of buildings undergo preservation. Concrete cracks, brick crumbles, glass breaks. Preservationists recognize these facts, and yet there is still an effort to say that historic structures should ideally be restored entirely to their origins. To suggest this is to ignore the fact of impermanence. 

With an acceptance of impermanence, the goal of preservationists becomes a more holistic one. It is vital to protect more than buildings as preservationists. Communities and the day to day life of the citizenry also need to be taken into consideration when approaching a structure that has seen its own death. By opening up the possibilities for preservationists, we can forgo this false sense of permanence that was perpetrated by our forbears. There are countless historic structures across the United States, structures making up the historic fabric of the nation. In response to this fact, preservationists should not seek to make this built environment permanent. To do so would go against the truth of impermanence. Instead, the answer must be to use these structures to our community’s advantage, to create new spaces through adaptive reuse, to bring on their rebirth.