Your fondness of words is not oblivious to me, so I reckon perhaps a short discussion (in words) might prove more useful to us. Firstly, I think the beauty of any conservation, refurbishment or regeneration project always beholds its indebtedness to history. It should be evident that a place contains a peeling bark of many histories (I hope you appreciate the metaphor) and that by revealing 'them', a more encompassing vision(s) is able to 'touch' the hearts and minds of many users who ply through her body each day. The danger in seeing this through is avoiding both the extremities of trying to present the 'purest version' of a place and on the other end, evoking too much 'memory' as it were in a bid for a false kinds of archaeologism.
Hence, by all means prudence is the most paramount of all criteria in any project which desires to restore a heritage listed building. (Note: restoration doesn't necessarily mean purging the effects of time). It only comes second to practicality in the strictest sense (Evidently, better to have no beam than to have one crashing on a young lady if she so much as touches it). One has to be not only sensitive but decisive, to choose which parts of history are worth bringing out; Which parts of history have been obscured? What kind of variety does justice to an architecture whose history has enriched people of different times and finally what does this or that element mean in the whole scheme of things?
I trust that you are fully aware of the practical problems which entail the 'beloved' architect's design. I hope you are sufficiently prepared for some architects who do not walk through the spaces they are designing. Also, often there is nothing more useful than a third party's opinion and you would be prudent in sticking your head in the ongoing discussions and asking questions that deal with 'real' circumstances which you have been so privileged to hear from the soon-to-be owners.
At many times during our conversation that day, you were somewhat puzzled by some of my judgements concerning the value of some elements from the 'old' market and her annexes. Other than our differences in opinion I also think I was not able to articulate what I meant by the value of 'accidental' history. In Malaysia, our short history and lack of appreciation for the 'old' avails itself in our relative inexperience in conserving and regenerating our old 'architecture'. In the quest for the new, many objects of art were sent to the guillotine without prior consideration but also because it is much harder to work in a context. While I disapprove of it, the angle often taken has my empathy; it is much easier to buy or sew a new dress than to stitch a new fabric onto an old one.
Our European and Japanese counterparts are not world leaders in architecture for want of good reasons. Furthermore, because historical structures are most likely preserved, they have acquired a more 'developed' approach in infusing the new into the old, without the fear of being either too purist or imposing the avant-garde on a grandmother! To put it succinctly, a more beautiful architecture will always result from a head-on collision between the desires of the new and the challenges of the old. This kind of approach does not pretend that solutions are simple and like water, it allows a new liquid to be diffused within her while disclosing the effects that the new 'wine' has on her. If you get my drift, the most practical solutions should not be averse to the challenges and opportunities that history bestows on a structure.
By meeting these problems head on, a newness can be achieved from the very sinews of the old and not merely stuck on by poor attempts of adhesion. As such, the old is made new by avoiding the destructive and humiliating effects which erasure brings. Each place carries her ghosts. These spirits acquire new tastes and can adapt to change. In a way, they constitute what we could call a living tradition, a building which grows instead of being replaced. We are in fact duty bound, by sheer soundness of mind to do justice to history by adding new chapters to a life whose desire is not to die prematurely.
But what does this entail, in concrete terms? It 'could' mean that the apparent insignificance is brought to light by the removal of walls, plastering and invasive methods which aim to make life easier for a user, albeit denying them the wealth of experience that history demands from the design. It could mean that a peculiar sense of arrival from the new to the old is worth the same attention to that of determining the height of a particular lamp. It could be that the sound and smell of wood as one walks over it is of greater value than the dimension of a sink in the new wing. In short, the impediments we are burdened with are in fact precursors to new sensitivities and new visions. We do not live in 'images' but in places which affect us, places which we sometimes struggle to understand both in our minds and through our emotions. We should not be content with adequate spatial planning as these will soon disappear. By disappearing, I mean that the average user is not deeply affected by a geometrically calculated space. What touches a person is what he or she is able to feel; the warmth of wood, the smell of satay, the feeling of return, happiness, sadness, the humidity in the air, the view, etc. And these are not general experiences but specific phenomena.
To me, the stories of childhood or the excitement of a child when he tells an experience is a very inspiring lesson. If you can remember, the best memories are always events of intricate detail, which are tied to places. Despite what we like to believe, we do not remember the mathematical properties of places, but in pondering them our bodies are somewhat stirred by a recurrent dream, the sensation of reacting to real things in a pleasurable or memorable way.
So I put this question to you; Does a building have a soul? And if you can sense she does, not all things which look misshapen and cheap or tacky are really like that. After all, isn't architecture about having new eyes for the otherwise mundane? This is why even a roller door can be elegant, if you know how to turn it into art.
I have not spoken about the practical problems which I saw, simply due to my confidence that you are more than apt to deliberate those decisions on your own. But while those are important to you, try not to overdo nor underestimate the potential that context makes available to every new man in every new age.
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