Small public: Relativities
Not always easily classified, “small” projects can often be overlooked, romanticized or even overthought. But small public projects are capable of having an impact incommensurate with their size and, argues Kerstin Thompson, they deserve to be designed with attention, care and rigour.
Small is not necessarily insignificant. To contend this requires us to uncouple scale from impact.
Through our practice, Kerstin Thompson Architects (KTA), we’ve identified two key ways in which the design and delivery of the small public project can make an impact on the public realm that is incommensurate with the scale of the resources used. The first is through the judicious re-use of existing buildings, and the second is through repeated types of modest civic buildings that offer a testing ground for typological invention and that are, in their composite value, greater than the one-off.
An economy of means
What constitutes “architecture?” Must it be evident in order to have an impact? Members of French architecture practice Lacaton and Vassal described how, having examined a square in Bordeaux (Place Léon Aucoc, France, 1996) they had been asked to “embellish,” they decided to do nothing. They found it to be beautiful already and that there was nothing to be solved through physical change. Rather, they advocated for better maintenance and care.
The architect who opts to do nothing, or at least to minimize their moves, is – sadly – too novel. The display of architecture – the leaving of explicit signs testifying to its deployment – has become synonymous with its worth, a mark of the extent to which the client is getting bang for their buck. Visibility, rather than the less visible moves that might better serve a project’s needs, can become the imperative of practice.
There is a time for architectural flamboyance – in the commercial sector, for instance, where architecture and its image are key to corporate branding. And advocating only for what is “necessary” has the potential to encourage the less scrupulous project manager to justify a meanness in which delight is surplus to requirements.
But sometimes, an architecture of largesse marks an absence of more precise and strategic thinking. In this age of excess and consumption on the one hand and deprivation and depletion on the other, it is timely to aspire to a resourceful architecture: one that deploys an economy of means yet is transformative; one that belies its modesty – of size, cost or visibility – with impact.
Adapt and re-use
“The greenest building is one that is already built.”1
Many KTA projects begin with an existing artefact for re-use and, in the context of small, prioritize a lightness of touch, a gentle recasting toward what might be with the overarching intent to minimize resource expenditure.
KTA applies a spectrum of change to the existing fabric to determine the extent of work required to unlock a site’s potential. At one end there may be a change of use but no physical change, while at the other there may be considerable physical change but continuity of use.
The critical first move is to find an ease of fit between existing forms and new uses. This prioritizes conceptual strategy over material change. Then, if physical change is required, it can be achieved by the following tactics, roughly from least to most interventionist: re-use, restore, upgrade, edit and add. Two of our recent projects demonstrate this approach, especially the importance of finding an ease of fit.
Works on the Sacred Heart building at Abbotsford Convent, once a place of refuge and labour for “wayward women,” enable a mix of creative businesses and events. On an extremely limited budget, the driver of change was regulatory compliance, especially access, and this was achieved with a degree of delight and respect for the heritage-listed fabric. Future program was allocated according to the existing spatial qualities of character, proportion and scale. We resisted the urge to unify the various spaces and the result is a veritable
palimpsest that indexes the many histories and uses of the convent. Transformation is most visible in The Bridge, but such change has otherwise been kept to the bare minimum necessary to support new uses and opportunities. The concrete yard continues to exist as a physically spartan space. Only its use has changed, from a space of confinement, enforced exercise and detention to one of openness, events and entertainment.
Similarly, in The Stables, for the University of Melbourne’s Victorian College of the Arts – School of Art, we found an ease of fit for the school in the three components of the original facility: the cellular police stables wing, with its stalls and sublime repetition of structure and light-filled clerestory volumes, became studios for 150 visual arts students; the single-span riding hall became a performing arts space; and the distinctive octagon – a hinge between the wings – became the school’s ceremonial entry, and events and executive functions space.
Next came the edits. The removal of unsympathetic accretions revealed unanticipated beauty, such as the octagon’s exquisite structure, while a series of careful cuts linked the school’s interior to the street, and the octagon’s ground and first floors via an oculus.
Only once we had extracted what we could from what already existed did we consider the insertions: stairs, extra floor area within the voids and, outside, a cluster of urban blocks containing the services and defining the courtyard.
“Hard to see what you’ve done.” This could be considered a compliment or an accusation, depending on your point of view. For us, it is high praise.
Other projects, such as Broadmeadows Town Hall (although not a small building), could also belong in this discussion of economy, impact and value. This renovation could have been a much bigger project in terms of resource use, especially when there is pressure to demolish and rebuild.
It is a question of relativity.
In these projects, finding the “rightness of fit” between existing forms and new uses is the priority, followed by the judicious edit. What is taken away is instrumental in transforming the use, accessibility and public realm contribution of the existing building. Additions tend to be a last resort, when extra area is required to meet the brief.
Modest repeats, pervasive composites
In every suburb or town, there is likely to be a fire, police and ambulance station, a school and a community centre, just as there are rest-stops along every highway. Our projects for Victoria Police, the Victorian School Building Authority and VicRoads are examples of these repeated types of public buildings that, together, form a network of civic infrastructure through which public life is enacted. In the eyes of some, because they are ordinary and modest renditions of generic briefs, they are released from the high aspirations reserved for the special, one-off signature building.
But precisely because of their ordinariness and their repeatability, they warrant – and we invest – a high level of architectural effort. Because, as one element within the greater composite that is urban fabric, they can leave a lasting and pervasive legacy.
KTA’s five stations for Victoria Police are envisaged as contributions to a network formed from modest civic architecture. Each is the outcome of a site-attuned approach that seeks to forge a strong sense of place and dignify the experience of the everyday in our suburbs and towns. We drew on variations in the physical setting and the local community’s expectations to give each building its own character and reinforce the local neighbourhood. Like siblings, the stations share the DNA of the brief, but the influence of the environment differentiates their eventual personalities, thereby avoiding the cookie-cutter problem of a repeated type. Considered together, they provide a survey of suburban difference.
Our agenda of the police station as place-maker is most evident in the Victorian town of Marysville. Pivotal to the re-establishment of community in the rebuild following the Black Saturday bushfires, the station defined a new park along its northern length while also recalling the somewhat illusive character and lost heritage of the township.
The repeat project can also be a ripe testing ground for new thinking. The Jock Comini Reserve Amenities (see review on page 16) was a catalyst for change, enabling VicRoads to explore alternative models for more inclusive and accessible amenities. It contains lessons for future rest-stops and offers a replicable and scalable base unit for other sites. Toilet and handwashing facilities are standalone within curved, glazed cubicles that cater for all genders and religious prohibitions on shared wash areas, while also enhancing personal safety using improved view-lines. Light and airy, the amenities bring delight and appreciation of landscape to the rest-stop, in contrast to the typically dank and unsafe public toilet experience.
Relativities
Small is always relative – relative to something through comparison, typically scale, cost or degree of transformation.
Being relative rather than absolute, small works evade ease of classification. This presents a kind of conundrum that has been reflected in the debate about what constitutes a small project in the Australian Institute of Architects’ awards programs, which now exclude residential alterations in favour of a focus on public projects.
Small can be a pejorative term.
Many a sole practitioner will be familiar with the use of the phrase “too small” as a reason for being precluded from a shortlist. Conversely, the small project can be revered for the level of care shown in its execution. How often has one heard the big-practice, financially successful practitioner lament that they wish to do something small again, like a house …
The flip side of this care and attention can be the architecturally overwrought, overthought small project. Likely over-serviced, too, with spent architectural effort and labour exceeding the sustainable bounds of the project’s financials. It was with good reason that the (now-banned) fee scale had a substantially higher percentage against smaller budgets, because the small project is not necessarily satisfied with small thinking.
In the context of “small public,” the selected projects discussed here arguably achieve an impact in excess of their relative smallness. Whether through an economy of moves that enable the sustainable re-use of existing buildings, through the composite value of many modest buildings or as exemplars with lessons for future practice, they demonstrate why small works deserve our attention, care and rigour.
How do we encourage more rigorous architectural attention toward these projects? The crucial role of the commissioning body cannot be underestimated. Governments and other agencies can – and some do – lead the way as repeat commissioners of architecture. They can set in place processes for the selection of consultants and the briefing, design and procurement of buildings that prioritize a quality of outcome that is evident not only within the organization (measurable by functionality, amenity and delight) but also outward, in terms of the contribution they make to the broader community.
Fee levels in selection criteria should reflect the long-term value that these projects can deliver. And when excellence is achieved – whether recognized through awards or community attachment – then let’s acknowledge the client’s role in providing the conditions of procurement for design excellence to flourish and through which our communities have been rewarded with that “something more.”
Footnote
1. Carl Elefante, “The greenest building is … one that is already built,” Forum Journal, vol 27 no 1, Fall 2012, 62–72.