Concrete monstrosities and dilapidated buildings

During the 1980s, Compton Davis, a Guyanese, moved to the UK to complete his architectural studies. In 1983, as part of his final-year dissertation at the Polytechnic of Central London (now the University of Westminster), Davis commenced photographing the buildings of Georgetown. His efforts to capture our vanishing history resulted in the publication of a book in 2017 titled, City of Wooden Houses: Georgetown, Guyana.

Davis’ research over several decades presents a fascinating look at Georgetown’s past, providing captivating photographs coupled with short descriptive and historical texts of the city’s architecture, which was heavily influenced by the various colonial rulers over time. Our beautiful capital, with its then functioning canals and waterways, lush tropical vegetation, and tree-lined avenues, was referred to as the Garden City and was the envy of the Caribbean.

The architect initially gives a brief history of Georgetown and has organised the main part of the book on a geographical basis, while providing pertinent details of the notable edifices to be found in the various districts of the city. These fascinating structures, which were for the most part constructed with wood rather than brick or stone, provided Georgetown with its own unique characteristic architecture and charm. The photographs capture the lost intricate art of our skilled artisans of yore who produced detailed fretwork (also known as gingerbread) panels over front doors, gallery window heads, the spandrels in the angles of timber arches to the drawing room and on porches and verandas. They also produced sash, side-opening, jalousie, and stained-glass windows; Demerara shutters with the ‘coolers’; latticework and balustraded staircases. Complementing many of the main buildings was classical decorative ironwork, some of it imported with the balance forged at the local foundries.

International visitors who flock to Georgetown after reading Davis’ book (much like the flood of visitors to Spain following the publication of James Michener’s Iberia in 1968) are in for a rude awakening once they arrive on our shores. Since Davis began his research in the last century several buildings are no longer in existence. Some have been lost to fires, others sold and promptly demolished by new owners with questionable taste, whose appreciation for the historical significance of the former edifice was basically nonexistent. Others have been abandoned and are now derelict.

Fortunately, a few examples of John B Sharples’ designs have managed to survive the assault on our heritage. Sharples (1845 - 1913) was one of leading experts in design and construction and was responsible for many classic structures, including the Walter Roth Museum. “The Sharples houses continue to delight and charm those who see them and those who write about their status in the architectural history of Georgetown. These elegant urban villas exhibit what is an ideal for tropical domestic architecture. The house construction not only utilised sustainable building materials such as local timbers, but were also designed to maximise natural ventilation and shade so necessary in a tropical climate,” noted his great grandson Clive Wayne McWatt in a tribute on the centenary of J B Sharples’ passing (A Century of Architectural Heritage, SN June 16, 2013).

The well-appointed houses that stood back from the road leaving space for an array of pretty flower beds and accompanying shady trees, possibly a cabana and a bench for appreciating nature’s offerings are not desired by the nouveau-riche. Instead they have been replaced by concrete monstrosities which extend to the very edges of the property boundaries as the new owners endeavour to occupy every square millimetre of land. It is not unusual to witness roof guttering protruding onto neighbouring properties. Whatever became of the City Code: sixfoot distance between properties?

These dull stark edifices appear to have been patterned off of the old Portuguese mausoleums that currently lie derelict in Le Repentir Cemetery. In general, they can best be described as bland and unappealing as a modern maximum security prison, with their high concrete walls and wrought-iron barred windows. As if that isn’t enough, they are quite often painted in a kaleidoscope of gaudy colours. One’s retinas are assaulted by a slew of vicious yellows, harsh oranges, brilliant reds, savage greens and ferocious blues. The calming effect of white houses trimmed in a softening green are fast becoming extinct on the architectural landscape. Modern-day fortresses and castles are sprouting up all over the city, as fast as the humongous business buildings which are climbing higher and higher every year.

These bastions maximise their drip lines, asphyxiating their now dwarfed neighbours who are left to suffer in the appalling heat. Meanwhile, these forts are cooled by air conditioners. The few houses fortunate to still possess the classic cooling system of jalousie windows, can breathe a sigh of relief. For those unfamiliar with the jalousie window, Guyanese architect Rory Westmaas, in his 1970 article “Building Under the Sun” described it thus, “… the reason for another innovation in gallery design—the jalousie. The spaces between the studs in this case were filled with pitch pine louvres with timber pins

set in stiles drilled to receive them; the whole frame set in panels below and above the window sill was ‘open-able’ to an angle of about 75 degrees. When closed they were secured by a metal pin hung on a chain. This system allowed the whole wall to breathe and no doubt added greatly to comfort …”

Georgetown is currently littered with many dilapidated houses, once the residences of prominent citizens, many of whom have taken flight. While property vultures circle in anticipation of their eventual sale (some for back taxes), vagrants have raided the properties, stripping them of every movable piece of material. In some instances, the dereliction is owing to siblings’ disputes over how the family pie should be shared.

One recent development that must be noted here is the effort to restore City Hall, an architectural beacon that has been forsaken for umpteen years. The restoration, a joint collaboration between the Local Government Ministry, the European Union and City Hall, will cost $780 million. Why were decades of prevarication and neglect allowed to happen? Simple, no one in authority could have been bothered. City Hall is currently enshrouded in debris netting and scaffolding and it should be noted that the restoration contract is being expedited by a Trinidadian contracting firm. Where have all our artisans gone?

We should be grateful to Compton Davis for capturing a significant part of our history before its extermination before our very eyes. It will prove useful to architecture connoisseurs, lovers of colonial and South American history and future anthropologists, who will wince at the destruction of our history. Unfortunately, the future holds the arrival of more monstrosities and the continued disappearance of what made Georgetown unique. Likely to survive are St George’s Cathedral (restored at a cost of $200 million – minus the roof – of which $177 million came from the dioceses of Guyana and Suriname) and the Walter Roth Museum of Anthro-pology (nearly eliminated by the previous administration). On the dwindling list is the northern block of Duke Street, once the showcase of elegant local architecture, it continues to be bastardised.

Georgetown, once described as ‘the Venice of the West Indies’ is now winding its way to a destiny of sameness. We have seen this image time and time again, only here it will be much worse as ‘development’ proceeds seemingly devoid of any zoning laws and regulations.