Rust-­‐oration: The Preservation of Deindustrialization in Rust Belt Cities Sophie Reich Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of Master of Fine Arts in Historic Preservation at The Savannah College of Art and Design © May 2013, Sophie Catherine Hedwig Reich The author hereby grants SCAD permission to reproduce and to distribute publicly paper and electronic thesis copies of document in whole or in part in any medium now known or hereafter created. Signature of Author and Date _______________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________________________________/____/_____ Connie Pinkerton Committee Chair _____________________________________________________________________________________________/____/_____ Patrick Haughey, Ph.D. Committee Member _____________________________________________________________________________________________/____/_____ Thomas Taylor, Ph.D. Committee Member RUST-ORATION:
The Preservation of Deindustrialization in Rust Belt Cities
A Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of the Historic Preservation Department in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Fine Arts in Historic Preservation at Savannah College of Art and Design
By
Sophie Catherine Reich
Savannah, Georgia
May 2013
Table of Contents
List of Figures………………………………………………………………………………………………..
1
Abstract…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
2
Chapter One: Introduction……………………………………………………………………………………………………
3
Chapter Two: Deindustrialization and its Effects…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
8
Chapter Three: An Overview of Lacuna Treatments…………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 20
Chapter Four: Detroit as Case Study……………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 37
Chapter Five: Germany as Case Study……………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 55
Chapter Six: Appropriate Treatments for the Rust Belt………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 78
Chapter Seven: Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………………………………… 90
Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………………………………... 92
List of Figures
Figure 1.
Figure 2.
Figure 3.
Figure 4.
Figure 5.
Figure 6.
Figure 7.
Figure 8.
Figure 9.
Figure 10.
Figure 11.
Figure 12.
Figure 13.
Figure 14.
Figure 15.
Figure 16.
Figure 17.
Figure 18.
Figure 19.
Figure 20.
Figure 21.
Figure 22.
Figure 23.
Figure 24.
Figure 25.
Figure 26.
Figure 27.
Figure 28.
Figure 29.
Figure 30.
Figure 31.
Figure 32.
Figure 33.
Figure 34.
Figure 35.
River Rouge Plant……………………………………………………………….
Scrapper at Packard Plant……………………………………………………….
Abandoned train station in Gary, Indiana……………………………………….
Packard Plant in Detroit, Michigan……………………………………………..
Roofs at Carcassonne, France……………………………………………………
Ruins of St. Martin’s Cathedral in Ypres, Belgium. ……………………………..
Reconstructed St. Martin’s Cathedral in Ypres, Belgium…………………………
Arch of Titus…………………………………………………………………….
Broderick Tower lobby…………………………………………………………..
Broderick Tower lit up at night…………………………………………………..
An abandoned room in Broderick Tower………………………………………...
An apartment in the renovated Broderick Tower…………………………………
The Book-Cadillac Hotel just before opening 1924………………………………..
The lobby of the Book-Cadillac Hotel…………………………………………….
The Italian Garden ballroom of the Book-Cadillac Hotel…………………………
Roof of the abandoned Book-Cadillac Hotel……………………………………...
The deteriorated Grand Ballroom of the Book-Cadillac Hotel…………………….
9
15
15
17
23
27
27
31
39
39
41
41
44
44
44
46
46
The Grand Ballroom of the Book-Cadillac after the restoration………………………….. 48
The Italian Garden of the Book-Cadillac after the restoration…………………………… 48
The destroyed southern façade of the Alte Pinakothek…………………………………… 57
Hans Döllgast’s restoration of the Alte Pinakothek. …………………………………….. 57
The Reichstag after the Treaty of Versailles……………………………………………... 60
The Reichstag was badly damaged at the end of World War II…………………………. 60
The interior of the restored Reichstag………………………………………………. 64
Norman Foster’s dome on the restored Reichstag……………………………………….. 64
The partially destroyed Neues Museum following World War II……………………….. 67
The damaged staircase hall of the Neues Museum………………………………………
67
The exterior of the restored Neues Museum……………………………………………..
70
The treatment of lost finishes within the Neues Museum’s interior………………………
70
The vaults have been reconstructed in a different material from the originals…………….. 73
David Chipperfield’s staircase in the staircase hall………………………………………. 73
An “instructive ruin” apartment in the Lower East Side Tenement Museum……………. 81
Venturi and Rauch’s design at Franklin Court………………………………………….. 85
A rendering of the “Resonance, memory” project………………………………………... 87
A rendering of the Menokin Glass Concept Project………………………………………. 87
1
Rust-oration: The Preservation of Deindustrialization in Rust Belt Cities
Sophie Catherine Reich
May 2013
Deindustrialization has irrevocably changed the character of the Rust Belt and has had long
lasting effects that are far from being corrected. This thesis defends the significance of
deindustrialization, urban decline, and persistent neglect in Rust Belt cities and recommends
treatments that allow for the representation of loss that is a result of such disinvestment.
Current restoration treatments being applied to historic buildings in the Rust Belt do not
recognize the significance of loss in the built environment. The visual erasure of
deindustrialization poses a serious issue for how the history of the Rust Belt will be
interpreted in the future, as the decline is part of what is significant about the region. This
thesis assesses different strategies for the representation of loss in restorations and makes
recommendations for historic preservation treatments that recognize the hardships endured
in the Rust Belt as a result of deindustrialization.
2
Chapter One: Introduction
“The deindustrialized landscape, like a ruined battlefield that heals over, is ripe for
commemoration.”
Kirk Savage
For the past six decades American cities and towns have been experiencing
devastation brought on by deindustrialization. This phenomenon began in the Rust Belt,
former industrial towns of the Midwest and Northeast, but it is increasingly experienced on
a national and international level. As factories, mines, and mills closed and populations
declined, the character and the people of the Rust Belt were irrevocably altered. Spaces that
once represented community, prosperity, and permanence were transformed into a
landscape of abandonment and decay. For decades these cities have struggled to rebuild
their economies and once again make the landscapes into pleasant and attractive places that
people want to inhabit. In the effort to make Rust Belt cities appear new and appealing, the
traces of deindustrialization are too easily removed from the built environment.
Restorations have attempted to take the look of the buildings back to a pre-deindustrialized
era by replacing decayed materials, filling in holes, or gutting spaces and starting all over.
Such preservation treatments do not convey the importance and significance of
deindustrialization. The missing pieces of the built environment and society are part of the
Rust Belt’s story and the visual removal of decline and decay poses a serious issue for how
the history of these places will be interpreted in the future. A more sensitive treatment that
allows for the interpretation of loss and conveys a building’s entire lifespan would create a
more authentic historicity that respects the Rust Belt’s past and all of the people who
experienced the hardships created by deindustrialization.
3
Chapter Two will begin with the ways in which cities in the Rust Belt have long been
associated with the industries that helped to build them. Detroit and Flint have been
equated with the automobile industry; Philadelphia, Gary, and Pittsburgh with steel; and
Lowell with textiles. In the wake of the decline and relocation of such industries to other
regions and nations, the Rust Belt has gained new associations with abandonment, poverty,
and crime. Throughout the 1980s and 90s Flint, Gary, Youngstown, Detroit, and other
metropolises in the Rust Belt had the highest homicide rates in the country and made
national lists of the “worst places to live.”1 All of these places suffered from image
defamation, which was focused on the sheer amount of loss that occurred. The Rust Belt
lost jobs, people, buildings, police and fire protection, and respect. To this day that loss is
manifested in the built environment. Pictures of these cities reveal vacant lots, abandoned
homes and factories, and buildings with caved-in roofs and other signs of advanced
deterioration. In some cases, the missing buildings or pieces, and the fact that they are
missing, are important aspects in the story of those places. The severity to which
deindustrialization has altered the character of people and the built environment in the Rust
Belt is too significant to ignore when considering preservation site treatments and
interpretation.
Historic preservation is not without the theory required to understand and treat the
decayed Rust Belt environment. Chapter Three gives an overview of how restoration
theories from the nineteenth century to the present address the treatment of loss. In
particular, these theories are directed toward the treatment of lacunae, defined as a missing
1
S. Paul O’Hara, “Envisioning the Steel City: The Legend and Legacy of Gary, Indiana,” in Beyond the Ruins:
the Meanings of Deindustrialization, ed. Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott (Ithaca: Cornell University Press,
2003), 234.
4
part or piece or any other such gap in the fabric of a building or structure.2 The Venice
Charter and other theories that recognize the significance of loss and incorporate lacunae
into the building’s interpretation give an appropriate framework to begin addressing the
unique circumstances of buildings in the Rust Belt.
The next chapter will examine the restorations of two buildings in downtown
Detroit, Michigan. Detroit was selected as a case study because it is the archetype of a city
that has been markedly transformed by deindustrialization. The population has declined
more than half from just over 2 million in 1953 to around 700,000 according to the 2010
census.3 The city has more than 100,000 vacant lots and an estimated 80,000 vacant
buildings.4 In 2005, the National Trust listed the “Historic Buildings of Downtown Detroit”
on its annual list of 11 Most Endangered Places.5 At that time, Detroit had more abandoned
skyscrapers than any other place in the world.6 The case studies are two of these vacant
monumental structures that have been recently restored and been put back into use. The first
building that will be examined is the Broderick Tower residential building and the second is
the Westin Book-Cadillac Hotel. Both buildings were built in the 1920s, abandoned for a
period of time in the 1980s and 1990s, and were restored and reopened in the 2000s. In both
cases, the restorations removed evidence that the buildings had experienced abandonment
2
Merriam-Webster, online edition, s.v. “Lacuna.” Available at http://www.merriam-webster.com/.
Time Newsfeed, “Vanishing City: the Story Behind Detroit’s Shocking Population Decline,” Time, March
24, 2011, http://newsfeed.time.com/2011/03/24/vanishing-city-the-story-behind-detroit%E2%80%99sshocking-population-decline (accessed October 17, 2012).
4
Richard Gazarik and Amanda Dolasinski, “Jeanette Monsour’s mess far from unique,” TribLive, October 14,
2012, http://triblive.com/neighborhoods/yourjeannette/2709236-74/monsour-hospital-jeannette-abandonedbuildings-county-state-brownsville-avolio-barely#axzz29gIOXduM (accessed October 17, 2012).
5
“11 Most Endangered Historic Places: Historic Buildings of Downtown Detroit,” National Trust, 2005,
http://www.preservationnation.org/issues/11-most-endangered/locations/historic-buildings-of-downtowndetroit.html (accessed October 1, 2012).
6
Simone Preuss, “Detroit’s Beautiful Yet Abandoned Art Deco Skyscrapers,” Environmental Graffiti,
http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/featured/detroit-beautiful-abandoned-art-decoskyscrapers/16195?image=13 (accessed October 12, 2012).
3
5
and the ensuing deterioration. This type of treatment does not adequately represent the full
history of each building and the city, region, and nation as a whole. Even with the goal of
these projects being to restore Broderick Tower and the Book-Cadillac to the elegance of the
1920s, from a historic preservation standpoint the mark was missed. While the buildings’
exteriors were restored, very few interior spaces were preserved because the buildings were
gutted and renovated to accommodate modern amenities. The case studies in Detroit are
inspiring in that they showed that abandoned skyscrapers could be saved while so many
others were not. However, there is a level of critical analysis missing from the treatment
process. Detroit stands to lose even more than it already has if all of its historic structures
are restored in a way that whitewashes over the difficult past.
The Rust Belt can look to some specific examples of restorations where loss has been
clearly addressed as a part of a place’s story. Sites that have been affected by war offer a
comparison for the desolate landscapes of the Rust Belt. While some may question this
comparison, examining the two side-by-side merely points to the fact that the impact of
bombs and bullets on buildings is not so different than the impact of abandonment,
exposure to the elements, and neglect. Both cause the physical destruction of material that is
representative of a greater turmoil, whether it is a war between peoples or a war of
economics. Germany, in particular, contains several examples of sites damaged by World
War II that have been restored to preserve the significance of loss. In the next chapter the
Alte Pinakothek in Munich and later the Reichstag and Neues Museum in Berlin, stand as
case studies in which restorations were interpreted in a way that makes it simple for the
viewer to understand what material was destroyed or damaged. Forced to take
responsibility for the war and come to terms with the unthinkable loss of culture and human
6
life, Germany was able to embrace honest interpretations of history that ultimately has
enabled the country to symbolically reclaim those spaces. Adapted to its own culture and
history of loss, a similar approach in the Rust Belt could help revitalization and avoid the
chance that the choices of the past be repeated in the future.
Finally, Chapter 7 will examine other representations of loss in the United States and
around the world. Sites such as the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, the Menokin
house in Virginia, the Benjamin Franklin house at Franklin Court, the writings of Camilo
José Vergara, and the “Resonance, memory” design by architecture students Bo Li and Ge
Men all offer ways of representing the loss of buildings and materials specific to their
individual needs and circumstances. These examples are included to show that there is no
one correct way to interpret loss. Each site must be addressed on a case-by-case basis and
reflect the cultural sensitivities of that place. All of these examples demonstrate a creative
aspect that shows a dedication to telling the complete narrative of a place.
The Rust Belt is in need of a way to share its story of loss. The aim of such
commemoration is not to glorify the hard work of industrial labor, but rather to recognize
the pain and suffering that accompanied the loss of that work and the subsequent
breakdown of communities and cities. Perhaps better than any museum could demonstrate,
showing the scars of deindustrialization in the built environment is an immediate way to
understand this important part of the country’s history.
7
Chapter Two: Deindustrialization and its Effects
In order to explain the significance of deindustrialization in Rust Belt cities, it is first
necessary to explain the ongoing history and mechanisms of deindustrialization.7 While
deindustrialization in the United States is commonly associated with the 1970s and 80s, the
truth is that it began much earlier and continues well into the present day. 8
Deindustrialization has irrevocably changed the character of the Rust Belt and has had long
lasting effects that are far from being corrected. It is simplistic to say that deindustrialization
alone led to widespread poverty, abandonment, and urban decay in America’s northern
cities, yet it was still a major contributor in devastation of the urban arena.9
The rapid industrialization of the Northeast and upper Midwest at the turn of the
nineteenth century was the driving force behind the exponential growth of cities in those
regions. The development of steel and automobiles and the advancements of production
techniques in many industries created hundreds of thousands of new jobs (Figure 1).10 The
populations of cities such as Detroit, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Baltimore, Cleveland, and others
skyrocketed with a flood of immigrants. Between 1860 and 1910, the populations of urban
areas in the United States increased nearly seven-fold. During World War I, the lure of
7
In their seminal work The Deindustrialization of America, Barry Bluestone and Bennett Harrison define
‘deindustrialization’ as “a widespread, systematic disinvestment in the nation’s basic productive capacity,” 6.
8
Gregory S. Wilson, “Deindustrialization, Poverty, and Federal Area Redevelopment in the United States,
1945-1965,” in Beyond the Ruins: the Meanings of Deindustrialization, ed. Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003), 181.
9
The information used here to illustrate the causes and effects of deindustrialization and its effects is accurate,
but is somewhat simplistic out of the need to be succinct. For a more complex account of deindustrialization
please refer to the following books and articles: Barry Bluestone and Bennett Harrison, The Deindustrialization
of America (New York: Basic Books , Inc. , Publishers, 1982); ed. Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott,
Beyond the Ruins: the Meanings of Deindustrialization (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003); Thomas J. Sugrue,
The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2005), John Russo and Sherry Lee Linkon, “The Social Costs of Deindustrialization,” Youngstown State
University, http://cwcs.ysu.edu/resources/CWCS-publications/social-costs-of-deindustrialization.
10
Alan Brinkley, American History: A Survey (New York: McGraw-Hill, Inc., 1991), 514-515.
8
Figure 1. Ford Motor Company’s River Rouge Plant is representative of the
industrial landscape in the early twentieth century.
Figure 1: Charles Sheeler. “Criss-Crossed Conveyors, River Rouge Plant, Ford Motor Company
(1987.1100.1).” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/1987.1100.1 (accessed May 20, 2013).
9
well-paying jobs and the desire to escape the violent rule of Jim Crow laws in the South led
African Americans to move to northern cities in what was later known as the Great
Migration.11 These blue-collar jobs were unquestionably difficult, but they provided stability
and high union wages and benefits.12
Stability was reflected in part by the country’s Gross National Product, which grew
by 250% between 1945-1960. The purchasing power of the average American also increased
during this time, rising 20% from 1945 to 1960. What this meant was that Americans were
producing a greater number of consumer goods that they could now afford to buy. It was a
self-sustaining cycle. The booming auto industry and the infrastructure created to support it
acted as a catalyst in the development of the suburbs.13
However, amid the supposed post-World War II prosperity, a second wave of
migrants were moving to industrial cities while plants were closing. The 1950s saw high
unemployment rates in the coal and textile industries and this slowly spread into other
industries.14 The automobile industry, which employed one-sixth of the country’s workforce
in 1950, was especially hard hit. While automobiles themselves were primarily assembled in
Michigan, the industry supported hundreds of other manufacturers in Chicago, Pittsburgh,
Youngstown, Gary, Akron, Cincinnati, Toledo, Dayton, and numerous other cities and
towns.15 In Detroit alone, 134,000 manufacturing jobs were lost between 1947-1963.16
Another poster child for deindustrialization, Youngstown, Ohio lost over 50,000 steel-works
11
Brinkley, 540-1.
Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott, “Introduction: The Meanings of Deindustrialization,” in Beyond the
Ruins: the Meanings of Deindustrialization, ed. Jefferson Cowie and Joseph Heathcott (Ithaca: Cornell University
Press, 2003), 15.
13
Brinkley, 860.
14
Wilson, 181.
15
Thomas J. Sugrue, The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2005), 13.
16
Ibid.,126.
12
10
related jobs between 1977 and 1987.17 The steady and tremendous loss of manufacturing
jobs throughout the upper Midwest and Northeast also meant that unemployed workers had
less purchasing power. This had a deleterious effect on other industries and local businesses.
In the whole of the United States more than 32 million jobs were lost during the
1970s and 1980s.18 This figure is somewhat misleading because the total number of
manufacturing jobs has remained relatively stable with 18 million jobs in 1965 to 18.5
million jobs in 2000.19 This can be partially explained by the fact that disinvestment in
northern cities typically meant investment in southern cities, where unionized labor was
minimal (meaning cheaper wages), taxes were cheaper, and production regulations were
less stringent.20 The drop in percentage of unionized manufacturing jobs, 40% between
1985-2000, reflects this trend.21 Jobs were not just lost through plant relocation but also
through the mechanization of labor, such as in the case of the U.S. Steel Works Mill in
Gary, Indiana.22 The Gross National Product increased only 2.9%per year of the 1970s and
consumer purchasing power grew only 7% for the entire decade.23 The industrial
disinvestment in the North put thousands of workers out of jobs at once and transformed
former middle-class communities into poverty stricken areas.
At the same time capital disinvestment was occurring, so was the migration of the
white middle-class to city suburbs. Suburban populations grew by 47% in the 1950s alone.24
17
John Russo and Sherry Lee Linkon, “Collateral Damage: Deindustrialization and the Uses of
Youngstown,” in Beyond the Ruins: the Meanings of Deindustrialization, ed. Jefferson Cowie and Joseph
Heathcott (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003), 202.
18
Barry Bluestone and Bennett Harrison, The Deindustrialization of America (New York: Basic Books , Inc. ,
Publishers, 1982), 9.
19
Cowie and Heathcott, 14.
20
Sugrue, 11.
21
Cowie and Heathcott, 14.
22
O’Hara, 220.
23
Bluestone and Harrison, 4.
24
Brinkley, 860.
11
Government subsidies gave families the opportunity to own their own home and escape
overcrowded, rundown city neighborhoods. Those who could afford to leave often did and
the poorest (and primarily African American) residents were left in cities that were rapidly
decaying due to abandonment.25
Federal urban renewal programs dealt another crippling blow to cities by tearing down
“slum” neighborhoods, often at the heart of vibrant minority communities.26 Psychiatrist
Mindi Fullilove has done extensive studies on the effects of displacement upon communities
and individuals as a result of programs of Urban Renewal. The psychological stress caused
by displacement is what Fullilove labels “Root Shock,” a term borrowed from plant botany.
Root Shock, she asserts, can have serious health repercussions and leads to social
disintegration. To Fullilove, the physical and social destruction of urban neighborhoods by
programs of Urban Renewal were so disastrous that affected communities have been unable
to heal themselves, which has contributed to the decline of former industrial cities.27
An important point to emphasize is that deindustrialization should not be perceived
as an historic event; rather it is ongoing to the present time. However, instead of a decline in
blue-collar jobs in steel and automobile manufacturing, the jobs being lost today are in
white-collar industries such as technology and service. Between 1995 and 2004, about 17.9
million workers in the United States either lost their jobs or had hours and wages cut.28 In
the same way that it was incorrect for cities outside of the Rust Belt to see
25
Sugrue, 149.
Diane Lea, “America’s Preservation Ethos: A Tribute to Enduring Ideals,” in A Richer Heritage: Historic
Preservation in the Twenty-First Century, ed. Robert E. Stipe (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina
Press, 2003), 1.
27
Mindi Fullilove, Root Shock: How Tearing Up City Neighborhoods Hurts America, and What We Can Do About It
(New York: Ballantine Books, 2004).
28
John Russo and Sherry Lee Linkon, “The Social Costs of Deindustrialization,” Youngstown State
University, http://cwcs.ysu.edu/resources/CWCS-publications/social-costs-of-deindustrialization (accessed
December 17, 2013).
26
12
deindustrialization as a Detroit or Baltimore problem, it is also incorrect to think of it as an
American problem. In the essay “The Social Costs of Deindustrialization,” John Russo and
Sherry Lee Linkon write, “even in China, which is widely seen as the winner in the global
battle for industrial jobs, workers have been displaced, first by privatization and more
recently by companies moving factories to Indonesia and other countries where they can
pay even less and face fewer environmental regulations.” 29 In a system that enables capital
to be easily relocated, there will always be another destination of less costly industry,
leaving the previously developed manufacturing center without their livelihood.
What then, are the consequences of deindustrialization beyond job loss? Russo and
Linkon describe a domino effect that causes “multiple experiences of loss.”30 The loss of
jobs then leads to a loss of homes and health care. This contributes to a population decrease
that, Russo and Linkon say causes:
…reductions in the tax base, which in turn leads to cuts in necessary
public services like police and fire protection; increases in crime both
immediately and long term; decaying local landscapes; increases in
suicide, drug and alcohol abuse, family violence and depression;
declines in nonprofits and cultural resources; and loss of faith in
institutions such as government, business, unions, churches, and
traditional political organizations.31
Communities depended upon industrial jobs to support their homes, schools, social
networks, and infrastructure. As jobs leave communities, regions, and entire nations, the
complex system of connections built up around them collapses.32
The shift from industrial manufacturing to service economies means that the new
jobs tend to be inferior work. The pay is often a fraction of what is was before, jobs are part-
29
“The Social Costs of Deindustrialization.”
“Collateral Damage: Deindustrialization and the Uses of Youngstown,” 202.
31
“The Social Costs of Deindustrialization.”
32
Cowie and Heathcott, 6.
30
13
time or contractual work, and they do not offer equivalent benefits.33 Lower wages and
fewer benefits tend to result in a high turnover rate of workers, which leads to a loss in
skilled labor.34 If masses of workers are put out of jobs, community identity and city image
can be lost as well. This is detrimental, as a sense of pride in community can be important
for a city’s growth and stability, as proven by the 2010 Soul of the Community study that
found a positive correlation between community attachment and local GDP growth.35 A
related study in 2009 surveyed 26 cities in the United States to measure community
attachment. Of the five cities scoring the lowest, three (Akron, Detroit, and Gary) are Rust
Belt cities. In Detroit only 15.6% of people surveyed said they were “extremely likely” to
recommend the city as a place to live, and in Gary 14.6%. A mere 13.5% of Gary residents
said they were “extremely satisfied” with the city as a place to live. Detroit scored only a
little higher in the latter category with 14.7%.36
The hardship caused by deindustrialization manifests itself in the built environment
as well. Cuts in police and fire departments have consequences for buildings as well as
people. In some cases buildings are abandoned or left vacant when the owners can no longer
pay their mortgage or new tenants cannot be found. Unprotected structures can fall victim
to fire (either by neglect or arson) or thieves who strip the building of its sellable pieces
(Figure 2). In either scenario, without any maintenance or protection, it is only a matter of
time before unoccupied structures become exposed to the elements that act as catalysts for
33
“The Social Costs of Deindustrialization.”
O’ Hara, 231.
35
John S. and James L. Knight Foundation, “Knight Soul of the Community 2010,” Gallup, 2010, 5.
36
Ian T. Brown and Bob Torongo, “Smaller U.S. Cities Generate More Loyalty and Passion,” Gallup,
http://www.gallup.com/poll/123218/Smaller-Cities-Generate-Loyalty-Passion.aspx (accessed April 9, 2013).
34
14
Figure 2. A “scrapper” taking materials from the abandoned Packard Motor
Car Company Plant.
Figure 3. An abandoned train station in Gary, Indiana.
Figure 2: Andrew Moore. “Scrapper, Packard Motor Car Company Plant.” In Detroit Disassembled, 11.
Akron: Damiani/Akron Art Museum, 2010.
Figure 3: Ron Reiring. “Gary, Indiana train station.” January 18, 2077 via Flickr. Creative Commons
License. http://www.flickr.com/photos/84263554@N00/362091058/ (accessed May 28, 2013).
15
decay. These problems are not restricted to residential buildings but also civic structures,
industrial buildings, storefronts, and even skyscrapers (Figure 3).37
The sense of permanence once imbued by massive factories and mills, now
dilapidated, is another source of disillusionment for former industrial workers and their
families.38 To see these hulking structures abandoned and vacant can be a disturbing and
painful reminder of their former productivity. An example of this is the derelict Packard
Plant in Detroit, which is approximately 3.5 million square feet, covering more than 35
acres and comprised of 40 buildings. The plant has been closed since 1954 and has stood as
a symbol of failed industrial power for some native Detroiters in the half century that has
passed since then (Figure 4). Another source of embarrassment and lost confidence for local
residents are the tourists and sightseers that come from all over the world to explore the
Packard Plant and other abandoned buildings.39 It gives the impression that Rust Belt cities
are sites of intrigue because of how far they have fallen from their once impressive perch
without the understanding that deindustrialization experienced in the Rust Belt has become
a world wide experience. In an interview with Vice Magazine, photographer James Griffioen
went so far as to coin the phrase “ruin porn” to explain the media and general public’s
widespread fascination with Detroit and other Rust Belt cities’ abandoned structures.40
Simply put, both citizens and outsiders alike are stunned that such immense structures could
be left behind, abandoned and unused. If the buildings that are now vacant as a
37
“The Social Costs of Deindustrialization.”
Charles Pappas, “Inside Henry Ford’s Lost Factory,” Exhibitor Online,
http://www.exhibitoronline.com/exhibitormagazine/article.asp?id=357 (accessed April 9, 2013).
39
Jennifer Dixon, “The Packard Plant: Big. Ugly. Dangerous,” The Detroit Free Press,
http://www.freep.com/article/20121202/NEWS01/312020186/Big-Ugly-Dangerous-The-region-must-worktogether-to-get-rid-of-the-Packard-Plant (accessed April 9, 2013).
40
Thomas Morton, “Something, Something, Something, Detroit: Lazy Journalists Love Pictures of
Abandoned Stuff,” Vice, http://www.vice.com/read/something-something-something-detroit-994-v16n8
(accessed April 9, 2013).
38
16
Figure 4. The former Packard Plant in Detroit, Michigan embodies the deindustrialized
landscape.
Figure 4: Andrew Moore. “Packard Motor Car Company Plant.” In Detroit Disassembled, 19. Akron:
Damiani/Akron Art Museum, 2010.
17
consequence of deindustrialization were to be reused, they could take on new meanings and
associations that would in turn help the Rust Belt to heal.
Historian Dolores Hayden describes how buildings are both shaped by and reinforce
the community’s sense of place. 41 When buildings become heavily deteriorated, they can
become representations of the community’s decline that further contributes to a negative
self-image. Decaying buildings in Detroit, Youngstown, and Gary are an effect of urban
decline, but have also played an important role in shaping the city’s sense of place.
Abandoned buildings and urban blight reinforce the negative images of failure and decline
not just for residents but the media as well. Such images of decay and associations of loss,
pollution, and crime make it difficult to attract new business. Therein the actual appearance
of the built environment can perpetuate the effects of disinvestment initially caused by
deindustrialization.42
The role of deindustrialization in defining the character of the Rust Belt cannot be
understated. Through systematic disinvestment, cities have suffered a series of losses
spanning decades. Deindustrialization is not unique to the Rust Belt; it is just the bellwether
in America for the experience of wholesale disinvestment. In examining how best to
preserve this important chapter in American and global history, one of the most direct and
obvious connections is with the look of the built environment. The fact that the buildings,
pieces of buildings, and people are missing is one of the most significant aspects of the Rust
Belt. By scaling down the collapse and loss of societal structure caused by
deindustrialization to the loss of buildings and building fabric, the recognition of
deindustrialization's painful history becomes manageable. The preservation of
41
42
Dolores Hayden, The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1996), 18.
O’Hara, 231-232.
18
deindustrialization’s significance will require a delicate balance between permitting some of
the visual traces of decay to remain while simultaneously allowing society to move on from
the negative images of industrial disinvestment and decline. Examining how preservation
and restoration theory has historically addressed the loss of building material provides the
stepping-stones for developing strategies to preserve the Rust Belt’s history of loss.
19
Chapter Three: An Overview of Lacuna Treatments
While restoration theory dates back at least to the Italian Renaissance, much of
modern restoration theory is rooted in writings and practices from the nineteenth century.43
During that time, different schools of thought produced competing viewpoints of how best
to treat historic structures. Gradually, viewpoints have become less radical and eventually
professionals in the field began to work together to form standards of practice. Those
standards are still being refined to this day and vary slightly from culture to culture, but
there is some general agreement on how cultural resources should be managed and
maintained. Different scholars have focused on specific aspects of restoration, but one
nearly universal element is the treatment of missing building materials and features,
commonly known as lacunae.
Lacunae go beyond a simple patination of materials. Patina implies the natural
effects of time wrought upon a material. Lacunae, on the other hand, are the result of
abnormal deterioration. They result from human neglect or from a sudden and
uncontrollable event. Understanding how loss and compensation have affected a structure is
vital in restoration theory, because no building comes to the present day in a pristine state.
The theories themselves often reflect how the writer perceives time.
The great debate of the nineteenth century was between John Ruskin, and other socalled “anti-scrapists,” and Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc’s “unity of style.” Ruskin is
the figure most commonly associated with English nineteenth-century restoration
43
Alessandra Melucco Vaccaro, “Introduction to Part V,” trans. Alexandra Trone, in Historical and
Philosophical Issues in the Conservation of Cultural Heritage, edited by Nicholas Stanley Price, et al. (Los Angeles:
The Getty Conservation Institute, 1996), 308.
20
theorists.44 He believed architecture served as memory capable of conveying history and the
passage of time through the visible signs of age on a building [patination].45 Ruskin’s overall
theory called for the least intervention possible to best preserve the history (not the
aesthetics) of a structure. Careful maintenance, not restoration, would serve posterity best.
He declared restoration to be theoretically impossible based on the notion that someone
attempting to restore a building in the present can never duplicate the work of a craftsman
long since dead.46 Ruskin emphasized that any attempt to duplicate old work is based on
conjecture of the extant material, which if decayed even in the slightest, does not serve as an
accurate source.47 It follows then that in the event of missing building material, Ruskin
argues against reproduction as it adds false record to the architecture’s history and
undermines the authenticity of the historic material. With similar sentiment, Ruskin’s
colleague and fellow anti-scrapist William Morris founded the Society for the Protection of
Ancient Buildings (SPAB) in 1877, declaring:
…the Restoration of ancient buildings…a strange and most fatal idea, which
by its very name implies that it is possible to strip from a building this, that,
and the other part of its history - of its life that is - and then to stay the hand at
some arbitrary point, and leave it still historical, living, and even as it once
was.48
44
Ruskin’s primary architecture work is The Seven Lamps of Architecture (1849). Chapter Six, “The Lamp of
Memory,” lays out Ruskin’s full thoughts on restoration. Later, Ruskin wrote The Stones of Venice (1851-53), a
three-volume work meant to illustrate his theories from The Seven Lamps of Architecture.
45
Janet A. Null, “Restorers, Villains, and Vandals,” APT XVII, No. ¾ (1985): 31.
46
John Ruskin, “The Lamp of Memory,” in The Seven Lamps of Architecture (London: George Allen, 1901),
354.
47
Ruskin was writing at a time when photography was still a relatively new technology and its documentation
potential not fully realized. Still, even today it is rare for all features of a building to be documented. Even
more so, photographs might capture a building’s detail after it has already decayed, in which case conjecture is
still an issue in restoration.
48
William Morris, “Manifesto of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings,” SPAB, 1877,
http://www.spab.org.uk/what-is-spab-/the-manifesto/ (accessed May 18, 2013).
21
Morris and the other members of SPAB believed it was dangerous to believe that an
architect could freeze a building in time with whatever style they deemed most
appropriate.
Viollet-le-Duc stood in direct contrast when he posited that buildings should be
restored to a stylistically complete state, even if that unity never historically existed. In
Viollet-le-Duc’s restorations, the source of lacunae was often the architect himself. He
removed building features he deemed stylistically inappropriate and materials that he found
to be substandard or inadequate. An example of this is his restoration of the French city of
Carcassonne. For the roofing materials of the towers, Viollet-le-Duc chose black slate
instead of ceramic tiles that are the more traditional covering for buildings in southern
France (Figure 5).49 As with the roofs at Carcassonne, in the case of repairing or replacing
lost materials, Viollet-le-Duc insisted that new materials must be stronger or better than the
old. In the event that a particular section or piece of a building had been destroyed
completely, Viollet-le-Duc believed that the proper restoration approach would be to restore
the building as closely to the original as possible so long as the original was not defective.50
The debate between the differing theories continued for decades, primarily in
England and in France although it was well known throughout Europe. It was an Italian
theorist that first argued that both Viollet-le-Duc and Ruskin were radical in their theories
and positioned his own theory somewhere in between (although he is much closer in his
own writings to Ruskin). Camillo Boito played an important role in the drafting of the 1883
Charter of Restoration (a product of the Third Congress of Architects and Civil Engineers in
49
Francesc Xavier Costa Guix, “Viollet-Le-Duc's restoration of the Cité of Carcassonne: a nineteenth-century
architectural monument,” (M.S. thesis, University of Pennsylvania, 1988).
50
Eugène-Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc, “Restoration,” in Historical and Philosophical Issues in the Conservation of
Cultural Heritage, edited by Nicholas Stanley Price, et al. (Los Angeles: The Getty Conservation Institute,
1996), 315-16.
22
Figure 5. The traditional ceramic tile roof of Carcassonne,
France in the foreground is contrasted with Violet-le-Duc’s
slate tile roof on the tower in the background.
Figure 5: Mike Nott. “Ex13 – Carcassonne Roof (V).”
http://nott249.wordpress.com/2012/10/05/exercise-13-vertical-and-horizontal-frames/ (accessed
March 29, 2013).
23
Rome) that was published in Italy.51 The Charter put forth eight points, of which two
address lacunae. The first is in regard to lacunae where no example of the lost section exists
and in that situation the replacement or addition should “be realized with a character
different from the monument’s own,” but that the difference in character be harmonious
with the artistry of the old forms and style. The second situation is one in which the lost or
destroyed section is to be found intact elsewhere in the building. In this case, the section
should be made as a simplified form of the original, be of a conspicuously different material,
and (if feasible) carry the date and initials of the restorer. 52
In his own essay on restoration from 1893, Boito expands upon the Charter’s points
applying to lacunae.53 Additions to a building should be different stylistically from the
historic structure (Boito also emphasizes a grain of common sense with this point; the new
style should not be disruptive to the historic style). New, but compatible, materials should
be used for any additions. He suggests that lacunae of architecture should be treated as they
are in works of art: the gap is filled in with a lightened tint of the most prominent missing
color. He weighs the detraction to the work’s artistic unity this blocked out color may cause
over the distraction that would otherwise be caused by the lacunae’s reproduction and
subsequent distortion of authenticity. In the end, Boito insists the latter to be far more
disturbing and damaging.54
In Germany at the turn of the nineteenth century, the theorist Alois Riegl was
forming his influential views on art and architectural criticism. He begins his famous essay,
51
The 1883 Charter is not to be confused with the 1931 Athens Charter as both are known in Italian as the
‘Carta del Restauro.’
52
Camillo Boito, “Restoration in Architecture: First Dialogue,” Future Anterior Vol. 6, No. 1 (Summer 2009):
80.
53
Boito seems to be the first to apply the word “lacuna” to architecture, perhaps from his familiarity with the
term’s use in artistic and literary works.
54
Boito, 77-8.
24
“The Modern Cult of Monuments: Its Character and its Origin,” by reasoning that all
historic events (meaning everything that has already happened up to the present moment)
have equivalence to all other historic events in that they are all incapable of being repeated
or restored and all of them in total have led to this moment. From there Riegl was able to
argue that every single thing that exists (e.g. a piece of paper with writing on it or a pencil)
represents the development of one or many things. Humans appreciate or ignore the
significance of such everyday objects (despite their meanings) depending on the abundance
or scarcity of the thing. For example, no one would think twice about an ordinary pencil
unless it was the last pencil, in which case the development of writing, tools, production and
other such things that are embodied in the pencil would make the pencil of great
importance. This is historical-value and all creations have it. There is also art-value
(conceptual, formal and coloristic) that allows the present viewer to place importance on
one creation over another despite age or scarceness.55 Beyond this, Riegl also identified usevalue and newness-value as qualities that can be perceived in an intentional monument by
the viewer.56
Riegl’s contribution to restoration theory is his establishing that restoration
treatments could never be more than a system of lesser evils because of the unique and
dynamic perceptions of value placed on a building by the viewer. He never actually
formulates a restoration theory of his own, but merely identifies the trade-off that occurs
when a restoration is approached from a particular set of values.
Therefore, some basic principles can be derived from his essay. Similar to Ruskin,
Riegl sees the act of restoration as a theoretical impossibility because it is impossible to
55
Alois Riegl, “The Modern Cult of Monuments: Its character and its origin,” trans. by Kurt W. Forster and
Diane Ghirardo, Oppositions 25 (Fall 1982): 22.
56
Ibid., 21-51.
25
insert oneself into history with contemporary perception. Based on the concept of historical
equivalence, it would be inappropriate to restore a building to any one specific moment,
event, or style since said moment, event, or style is equal to all others. Rather, the concept
of the unintentional monument gives a basis for the notion that any object, building, or
monument may take on meaning through the passage of time that is beyond the intent of
the creator. Lastly, Riegl does not specifically address lacunae but does write “an old
building still in use must be maintained in such a condition that it can accommodate people
without endangering life or health.”57 While such action might not encompass the repair of
missing decorative elements, it would certainly mean patching holes in walls or roofs that
might render the building uninhabitable.
World War I marked a noticeable change in the practice of restoration in Europe.
Large numbers of historic buildings, monuments, and other structures were damaged in the
war and required immediate stabilization. The damages were beyond basic repairs and
restorations; huge portions of buildings had been destroyed, and some structures were little
more than ruins. After the war there was much debate about how to treat the destruction. In
the partially destroyed town of Ypres, Belgium, some people saw the opportunity to
redesign the city, some wanted to leave the ruined buildings as memorial to war, and some
wanted the town rebuilt because of the city’s historic value. In Belgium a law was passed
stating that all historic monuments destroyed during the war would be rebuilt to look as
they had before the war (Figures 6 and 7).58 The impact was that the traces of World War I
were effectively removed from the landscape.
57
Ibid., 39.
Jukka Jokilehto, “A History of Architectural Conservation: The Contribution of English, French, German,
and Italian Thought towards an International Approach to the Conservation of Cultural Property,” D. Phil
Thesis (The University of York, 2005), 396.
58
26
Figure 6. The ruins of St. Martin’s Cathedral in Ypres, Belgium following
World War I.
Figure 7. The reconstructed St. Martin’s Cathedral in Ypres, Belgium.
Figure 6: United States War Department. “Ruins of St. Martin’s Church in Ypres, Belgium, circa 1918,
ca. 1919.” Record Group 165. Still Picture Records LICON, Special Media Archives Services Division
(NWCS-S), National Archives at College Park, 8601 Adelphi Road, College Park, MD 20740-6001.
Figure 7: Australian Department of Veterans Affairs. “St. Martin’s Cathedral, Ypres.”
http://www.ww1westernfront.gov.au/ieper/st-martins-cathedral.html (accessed May 28, 2013).
27
Directly out of the confusion about how to address destroyed buildings, the Athens
Charter was born. The Allied forces saw the need to establish international cooperation and
communication, and in 1920, the League of Nations was formed to facilitate such an effort.
It was decided by the League a standards of practice be established for the conservation and
restoration of architecture. Held in Athens in October 1931, the Athens Charter for the
Restoration of Historic Monuments was adopted by the First International Congress of
Architects and Technicians of Historic Monuments.59 There were seven main resolutions
and one of them, Article V, addressed lacunae. The article states: “Modern techniques and
materials may be used in restoration work.” The charter was specifically addressing the
“consolidation of ancient monuments.” The charter took an approach out of line with
Ruskin in that the use of modern materials should be aesthetically hidden so as to preserve
the monument’s authenticity.60 The Athens Charter was on the cusp of historic and modern
conservation. It progressively permitted the use of new materials in direct contrast with
historic materials but recommended concealing those new materials in the belief that the
new would make the monument less authentic simply by being visually evident.
Taking Riegl’s theories and putting them into practice was Giulio Carlo Argan, who
founded Rome’s Instituto Centrale per il Restauro in 1938. Argan placed fellow Italian
Cesare Brandi in charge of the institution. Argan, one of the first to approach restoration
from a scientific perspective had a goal to bring clarity to the work through historical
59
Not to be confused with the 1933 Athens Charter held by the Congress of Modern Architecture (CIAM) and
published by famed architect Le Corbusier in 1943. It is the 1933 Athens Charter that arguably won out in the
treatment of the historic built environment as thousands of city neighborhoods were demolished in the mid
twentieth century in the name of urban renewal. The 1931 Athens Charter was used to preserve while the later
charter was used to destroy.
60
“The Athens Charter for the Restoration of Historic Monuments, Athens, 1931,” ICOMOS,
http://www.icomos.org/en/charters-and-texts/179-articles-en-francais/ressources/charters-andstandards/167-the-athens-charter-for-the-restoration-of-historic-monuments (accessed March 1, 2013).
28
understanding. Using Riegl’s categories of artistic and historical-value for works, Argan
distinguished between conservation strategies for each. A historical conservation approach
would merely consolidate the work and attempt to prevent further decay; whereas, an
aesthetic approach would attempt to strengthen aesthetic qualities that had been disturbed
through the passage of time, neglect, or alteration. For lacunae, Argan would not permit
any conjectural reintegration. Even if it was decided the lacunae were to be washed in a
tone, the tone could not be a neutral color but a color that would bring greater
understanding to the original material of the work.61
Expanding upon Argan’s work, Cesare Brandi produced one of the most nuanced
discussions of lacunae in his Theory of Restoration (1963). From Brandi’s perspective, a
lacuna becomes a prominent figure in a work of art or architecture that aesthetically
interferes with the unity of the work.62 Therefore, any attempt to conserve the work of art
must attempt to minimize the presence of the lacunae to allow the extant material to be
made central again. Brandi draws the distinction between attempts to re-perfect a work of
art and the conservation of a work of art. He argued that conservation for the sake of
integrity or to stabilize because of structural failures is the only acceptable intervention on
the part of the conservator.
Central to Brandi’s theory is his concept of the lifetime of a work of art. There are
two phases of the work’s lifetime: the creation of the work by the artist and its entrance into
the world (this begins the moment the artist deems the work “finished”). In this way,
Brandi’s view of historicity is similar to Riegl’s. A conservator, then, can only evaluate the
61
Jokilehto, 413.
Cesare Brandi, “Postscript to the Treatment of Lacunae,” trans. by Cynthia Rockwell in Theory of Restoration
(Rome: Instituto Centrale per il Restauro, 2005), 92.
62
29
work as it has come to them. Therefore, complete reintegration of the lacunae is impossible
because the conservator cannot stand in for the artist, and as such, trying to recreate what
has been lost jeopardizes the authenticity of the work. Conservators exist in their own time
and when they approach a work of art or architecture, they cannot truly restore the work to
its original appearance because it is from a different time and perspective.
In actual treatment, Brandi recommends that the lacunae be made to have a different
surface level (literally on a different plane) than the work of art. If this is unachievable, the
lacuna’s tone should be softened. Brandi further states that there is no one solution to the
treatment of lacunae, but if approached with the understanding of the conservator’s own
perception, a solution can be devised.63 Frank G. Matero has written on Brandi’s theory of
restoration and advances the understanding of theory as applicable to conservation of
architecture in America. Brandi believed that any compensation in a work must be clearly
defined as such, that is, it must be distinguishable from the old (Figure 8). 64 That allows for
a future conservator to reverse the decision should the compensation be deemed
inappropriate.65 Matero identifies form, fabric, and function as the categories that define
architecture. He writes, “depending on the situation, we can choose any number of
compensation strategies that either privilege one aspect over the other, or instead attempt to
present all three in balance.”66 The latter sentiment is again rooted in the system of lesser
evils established by Riegl.
63
Ibid., 91-3.
Defined by Frank Matero as “all aspects of intervention designed to address visual and structural
reintegration resulting from material loss.”
65
Frank G. Matero, “Loss, Compensation, and Authenticity: The Contribution of Cesare Brandi to
Architectural Conservation in America,” Future Anterior Vol. IV, No. 1 (Summer 2007): 47.
66
Matero, 48.
64
30
Figure 8. The 1821 restoration of the Arch of Titus by Giuseppe Valadier is an early example
of lacunae treatment that demonstrates Cesare Brandi’s theories. For the replaced sections,
unfinished travertine was used instead of marble.
Figure 8: Anthony Majanlahti. “Arch of Titus 2.” April 29, 2005 via Flickr. Creative Commons
License. http://www.flickr.com/photos/antmoose/11477266/ (accessed May 28, 2013).
31
The defining theory of the twentieth century is The Venice Charter (International
Restoration Charter). The Venice Charter was the first resolution passed by the Second
Congress of Architects and Specialists of Historic Buildings, which met in 1964. The Venice
Charter updated the Athens Charter by expanding the definition of “monument,”
emphasizing the importance of the monument’s context, and refining the recommended use
of modern materials.67 The Venice Charter bears the distinct influence of the Instituto
Centrale di Restauro.
Articles 9-13 of the Venice Charter concern restoration. Article 9 states that the scope
of restoration should only encompass what is known through documentary evidence or
extant material. Any additional work that is assumed should “bear a contemporary stamp”
(i.e., the work should be distinct from the original material). Article 10 encourages the use of
traditional materials and techniques. If this is not possible, modern materials and techniques
are to be permitted. Article 11 dismisses Viollet-le-Duc’s unity of style and says instead that
all significant periods of a building should be preserved in respect to each other because no
one person can decide which is more important. Article 12 specifies that when material is
lost (lacunae), the replacement should be compatible in form and style with the old and not
disrupt the overall harmony, but that such treatments must also be distinguishable as new.
Article 13 states that additions cannot be permitted if they overpower or undermine the
original structure.68
67
“History of the Venice Charter,” ICOMOS, http://www.icomos.org/venicecharter2004/history.pdf
(accessed March 8, 2013).
68
ICOMOS, “International Charter for the Conservation and Restoration of Monuments and Sites (The
Venice Charter 1964),” http://www.icomos.org/charters/venice_e.pdf (accessed March 11, 2013).
32
Paul Philippot, the director of ICCROM from 1971-1977, was one of the key persons
involved in drafting the Venice Charter.69 Paul Philippot and his contemporaries adapted
philological edits for the theoretical basis of artistic and architectural restoration. The
problem with this is that in philology it is simple to differentiate between what was original
and what was a reconstruction due to the literary format. For works of art and architecture
this is not so simple since the lacunae must be addressed on the original object. Philippot
argued that if lacunae were small enough, there would not be any question of what was lost
and it was within reason to reintegrate through the use of a different material or surface
treatment to fill the lacunae.70 He reasoned that this could be done so long as the
reconstructed pieces did not outnumber the existing material.
Philippot and his colleagues, Paolo and Laura Mora warn against total
reconstructions, which they said add up to little more than “stylistic falsifications.” Their
reasoning is that no matter how well the lost material was documented or understood, any
attempt to reconstruct it will become outdated over time.71 Mora, Mora, and Phillipot
emphasize that every project attempting compensation must have an underlying theoretical
base to guide the conservator. They write, “the clarity of the restored image [or architecture]
will depend just as much on the coherence and the critical logic of the system adopted as on
69
“Special visit: Paul Philippot,” ICCROM,
http://www.iccrom.org/eng/news_en/2010_en/various_en/03_16specialvisitPhilippot_en.shtml (accessed
March 11, 2013).
70
Paul Philippot, “Historic Preservation: Philosophy, Criteria, Guidelines, II,” in Historical and Philosophical
Issues in the Conservation of Cultural Heritage, edited by Nicholas Stanley Price, et al. (Los Angeles: The Getty
Conservation Institute, 1996), 359.
71
Paolo Mora, Laura Mora, and Paul Philippot, “Problems of Presentation,” in Historical and Philosophical
Issues in the Conservation of Cultural Heritage, edited by Nicholas Stanley Price, et al. (Los Angeles: The Getty
Conservation Institute, 1996), 347.
33
the quality of the execution.”72 Without a clear understanding, a restoration or conservation
project can become confused in regards to the level of acceptable intervention.
Umberto Baldini was the director of the Instituto Centrale per il Restauro from 1983
to 1987.73 Focused primarily on the restoration of art, his theories can also be applied to
architecture. He identified two ways in which a work is destroyed or damaged: human
“inaction” (negligence, abandonment, decay, etc.) and “traumatic external events” (natural
disasters, war, fire, etc.).74 Baldini, like Brandi, identifies three phases of the work’s lifetime,
which he calls actions. The first is the action of creation by an artist or other type of creator;
the second is the action of time, and lastly the action of man (conservator). The conservator
may intervene in the action of time through maintenance or conservation. The conservator
may also alter the historicity of the creator or time’s action. Baldini argues that the latter
alteration should never happen, specifically so that the action of a conservator never
becomes confused with the actions of the creator or time. Rather, the lacunae should be
filled with an abstracted form of the surviving material. This in turn clarifies the existing
material and maintains the historicity of the work.
In 1979, the United States published the Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for
Preservation Projects. These projects include four distinct treatments: preservation,
restoration, rehabilitation, and reconstruction. Preservation refers to the maintenance of a
property with respect to current condition. The Standards for Preservation state that in the
replacement of missing features, new material must “match the old in composition, design,
72
73
Ibid., 349.
“Obituary: Umberto Baldini,” ICCROM,
http://www.iccrom.org/eng/news_en/2006_en/various_en/08_16obitUBaldini_en.shtml (accessed
March 11, 2013).
74
Umberto Baldini, “Theory of Restoration and Methodological Unity,” in Historical and Philosophical Issues in
the Conservation of Cultural Heritage, edited by Nicholas Stanley Price, et al. (Los Angeles: The Getty
Conservation Institute, 1996), 349.
34
color, and texture.”75 Rehabilitation is similar in definition to preservation, but according to
the Standards the difference between the two being that at the beginning of the rehabilitation
process the initial condition of the building is worse. The same recommendations are made
for lacunae but go further in stating, “Replacement of missing features will be substantiated
by documentary and physical evidence.”76 Restoration refers to a “unity of style” approach
in which a particular time period of the building’s history is established as most significant,
allowing for the removal of materials and features not from that period. The same
recommendations are made regarding materials that are visually compatible, but an
additional point is made. “Replacement of missing features from the restoration period will
be substantiated by documentary and physical evidence. A false sense of history will not be
created by adding conjectural features, features from other properties, or by combining
features that never existed together historically.”77 Without proper documentation or
understanding of what is missing, mistakes are easily made with replacements that are not
historically or stylistically appropriate.
The increased capabilities of computer technologies in the 2000s have added a
unique possibility for the treatment of lacunae. Non-invasive laser scanning and 3D
modeling programs have provided a means to test possible treatments of lacunae. In 2006,
the London Charter for the Computer-Based Visualization of Cultural Heritage set forth
standards of practice for technology’s use in cultural resource management.78 Virtual
modeling makes it possible to view how a building or site would have looked at any
75
“Standards for Preservation,” National Park Service,
http://www.nps.gov/hps/tps/standguide/preserve/preserve_standards.htm (accessed March 11, 2013).
76
“Standards for Rehabilitation,” National Park Service,
http://www.nps.gov/hps/tps/standguide/rehab/rehab_standards.htm (accessed March 11, 2013).
77
“Standards for Restoration,” National Park Service,
http://www.nps.gov/hps/tps/standguide/restore/restore_standards.htm (accessed March 11, 2013).
78
“The London Charter for the Computer-Based Visualization of Cultural Heritage,”
http://www.londoncharter.org (accessed April 4, 2013).
35
moment in time. The ability to do so may be taken into consideration when deciding what
type of treatment to apply to the real building or site.
There are many different theories that have been put forth over the years to
determine the best or most authentic way to treat lacunae in historic buildings and
monuments, but there is still a need to develop theories that specifically address the
instances when lacunae (and the fact that they exist) are as significant as the extant building
material. The Venice Charter, the writings of Cesare Brandi, and the work of his successors
come closest to accepting the presence of lacunae, at the same time trying to minimize their
appearance, in a way that tells the complete history of the building from the moment of its
creation to the present. Their work, as well as several case studies, can be the beginning of a
treatment that recognizes loss as contributing to the character of a place, suited to the Rust
Belt’s unique history. First, two case studies of restorations in Detroit will be analyzed in the
context of restoration theory in order to understand how they convey history.
36
Chapter Four: Detroit as Case Study
Beginning in the mid-2000s, an unprecedented level of interest has been sparked in
Detroit’s revitalization that has helped generate a period of reinvestment. Both small
businesses and corporate stores are being drawn to the downtown area and some of the
smaller business corridors. These business corridors are nearing occupancy rates of
approximately 96% and developers are rapidly attempting to make residences available.79
Many of these ventures are looking to use Detroit’s existing building stock, as there is little
new construction going on in the downtown area. The fixed amount of retail property
makes businesses and business owners eager to procure property downtown. One
businessman alone, Quicken Loans’ CEO Dan Gilbert, purchased seventeen buildings in
downtown Detroit between 2011-2013. The company he runs, Quicken Loans, has itself
invested $1 billion and bought approximately 2.6 million square feet of office space in
downtown. 80 While some of these specific buildings have been continually used or been
vacant for a short time, others have been abandoned for decades and require a substantial
amount of work to be made functional again. Large-scale restorations in downtown Detroit,
such as the Book-Cadillac Hotel (now the Westin Book-Cadillac) and Broderick Tower,
have shown that it is possible to preserve Detroit’s derelict retail spaces and skyscrapers.
However, there seems to be a philosophy within these restorations that historic buildings
should be made new and taken back to the look of a pre-deindustrialized era.
79
Curtis Johnson, “Housing Shortages in Detroit?” Citiscope News, June 30, 2012,
http://citiwire.net/columns/housing-shortages-in-detroit (accessed March 12, 2013).
80
Sarah Cox, “Development in Downtown Detroit is Playing Out Like a Huff Po Blog Post From 2009,
Curbed Detroit, April 10, 2013, http://detroit.curbed.com/archives/2013/04/development-in-downtowndetroit-is-playing-out-like-a-huff-po-blog-post-from-2009.php#more (accessed April 20, 2013).
37
The visual erasure of the city’s decline poses a serious issue for how the history of
Detroit will be interpreted in the future, as the decline is part of what is significant about
Detroit. Current restorations and planned changes in use also pose the even bigger question:
For whom are these buildings being preserved? By discussing the values associated with
these buildings and examining their restorations through some of the theories addressed in
the previous chapter, a case can be made that there needs to be a greater level of critical
analysis in restorations if Detroit’s authenticity is to be preserved.
Broderick Tower
The David Broderick Building, now known as Broderick Tower, was completed in
1928 and was originally known as Eaton Tower. It is located on the corner of Grand Circus
Park and Woodward Avenue. Designed by architects Louis and Paul Kamper, the early
skyscraper is in the Chicago Classical style with a Beaux-Arts style crown. The 370 foot tall
building is constructed of limestone and steel. The building’s east elevation appears
somewhat unusual due to the lack of windows in its center, a result of elevator placement
within the structure and the unusually shaped site on which the building sits. Like other
skyscrapers built in Detroit in the 1920s, Eaton Tower was designed with a lush interior.
Many of the hallways and public spaces had marble wainscoting and floors.81 One of the
most opulent spaces is the main lobby, which features a coffered, barrel vaulted ceiling,
black marble, and bronze elevators (Figure 9).82
The 1920s were a period of rapid growth for Detroit. More than a dozen of Detroit’s
tallest buildings went up during the decade. Eaton Tower was among this group of colossal
81
Dan Austin, Lost Detroit: Stories Behind the Motor City’s Majestic Ruins (Charleston: The History Press, 2010),
15.
82
Eric J. Hill and John Gallagher, AIA Detroit: The American Institute of Architects Guide to Detroit Architecture
(Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2003), 64.
38
Figure 9. The Broderick Tower lobby.
Figure 10. Broderick Tower lit up at night.
Figure 9: “The Broderick Tower’s lobby.” http://historicdetroit.org/galleries/broderick-tower-oldphotos/ (accessed February 23, 2013).
Figure 10: “Broderick Tower.” Walter P. Reuther Library. Wayne State University. Detroit, Michigan.
39
new buildings that helped symbolize Detroit’s elevated status as a major American city,
even helping it earn the nickname, “Paris of the West.”83 The skyscraper was built for
Berrien C. Eaton, whose grandfather Theodore Eaton had established a manufacturing and
distributing business in the city beginning in the mid-nineteenth century. The first five floors
were used for restaurants and retail space. The rest of the building was for offices. Lawyers,
barbers, and accountants were all tenants, but doctors’ offices held the majority of space.
The skyscraper was well known for the floodlight illumination of its crown at night, which
could be seen miles away (Figure 10). This earned it the description: “a beauty by day–a
jewel by night.”84
In 1944, the tower was sold to Intertown Corporation, at which point it was renamed
the David Broderick Building. In the ‘60s the skyscraper was sold twice and was starting to
show signs of decline. By 1970 its occupancy rate was down to 70%. In 1981 the Broderick
was foreclosed by the state of Michigan for unpaid taxes. There were also complaints from
tenants that they often went without heat or water. Throughout the early 1980s there was an
occupancy rate of only 40-50%. By 1985 all tenants were gone with the exception of The
Flaming Embers restaurant on the first floor (Figure 11). In 1993, the restaurant too was
forced to close down. The building was completely vacant for 17 years before a
redevelopment plan was announced in May 2010.85
Motown Construction Corporation’s redesign for the Broderick turned the building
into a 124-unit apartment building with commercial and retail spaces occupying the first
83
Robot Conot, American Odyssey: A Unique History of America Told Through the Life of a Great City (New York:
William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1974), 8.
84
Austin, 15.
85
Dan Austin and Kraemer Design Group, “Broderick Tower,” Historic Detroit,
http://historicdetroit.org/building/broderick-tower/ (accessed October 13, 2012).
40
Figure 11. An abandoned room in Broderick Tower shows broken
windows, graffiti, and other signs of deterioration.
Figure 12. An apartment in the renovated Broderick Tower is entirely
new construction.
Figure 11: Sean Doerr. “Broderick Tower.” In Lost Detroit: Stories Behind the Motor City’s Majestic Ruins,
21. Charleston: The History Press, 2010.
Figure 12: Romain Blanquart. “A unit being built in the Broderick Tower in downtown Detroit.”
Detroit Free Press. http://www.thedetroithub.com/site/user/images/04_14_12_Broderick.jpg (accessed
May 28, 2013).
41
four floors.86 The condition of Broderick Tower at the outset of the project was decent
considering how long it had been abandoned. It did not have much structural damage
although there was considerable deterioration of interior materials. Many windows were
broken, graffiti covered the walls, and like many other vacant Detroit buildings, thieves had
stolen pipes and other metal that could be sold for scrap. The decorative ornamentation that
adorned the upper stories also disappeared at an unknown time. The developer committed
to restoring the building’s exterior and first floor lobby, which was remarkably well
preserved throughout the vacant years. Beyond those spaces the building was gutted and
renovated with completely new materials and the floor plan reconfigured for apartments
(Figure 12).87 The only other historic material that remains is some of the marble
wainscoting near the elevators on each floor. Lower level windows were saved and all
others were replaced.88
Given the Broderick’s relatively small amount of historic fabric within the interior, it
is somewhat surprising that special tax credit legislation was passed just to benefit the
project.89 The Broderick’s restoration has been widely reported by publications such as the
New York Times and the Detroit Free Press as a success. Greta Guest, of the Detroit Free
Press wrote, “The strong interest in downtown luxury living is a good sign for fragile
86
Susan Stellin, “New Thirst for Urban Living, and Few Detroit Rentals,” The New York Times, December 11,
2012, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/12/realestate/commercial/new-thirst-for-urban-living-in-detroitleaves-few-rentals.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&adxnnlx=1366496567-P1g7zZovX7UQ2Ygazr/yZQ (accessed April
20, 2013).
87
Nora Leon. Email to Sophie Reich. February 23, 2013.
88
Greta Guest, “Is Broderick Tower a home run for upscale housing?” Detroit Free Press, April 5, 2012,
http://www.freep.com/article/20120405/BUSINESS04/204050476/Is-Broderick-Tower-a-home-run-forupscale-housing- (accessed April 22, 2013).
89
Kelli B. Kavanaugh, “Historic tax credit legislation passes to benefit Broderick Tower restoration,”
http://www.modeldmedia.com/devnews/broderick011209.aspx (accessed March 12, 2013).
42
downtown development amid some still-tough economic times.”90 This highlights the theme
of luxury living as a sign of revitalization in a city that is otherwise still very poor and
rundown.
Book-Cadillac Hotel
The 1924 Book-Cadillac Hotel is another of Louis Kamper’s Detroit skyscrapers.
When it opened, the neo-Renaissance style hotel featured over twelve hundred rooms and
was the world’s tallest hotel (Figure 13).91 The hotel’s first four floors were devoted to the
lobby, restaurant, and ballrooms, all in Venetian style featuring Corinthian columns and
pilasters. Colored marble finishes on the walls, intricate ceiling decorations, wood paneling,
murals, gilded moldings, lavish chandeliers, and many more elegant details were to be
found throughout the hotel’s public spaces (Figures 14 and 15). The additional floors were
for the guest rooms. The first sixteen stories of rooms are identical from the exterior, with
the exception of periodic horizontal, molded band courses. The three stories above feature
larger windows divided by Ionic pilasters. Two-story towers rise out of each of the
building’s four corners and peak in copper-covered ziggurats.
In its day, the Book-Cadillac was the most luxurious hotel in Detroit and was
included on lists of America’s best hotels for decades.92 It was the hotel of choice for
celebrities, sports stars, and presidents visiting Detroit.93 In 1951, the Sheraton hotel chain
bought the Book-Cadillac and changed the name to the Sheraton-Cadillac. Sheraton then
remodeled the building to suit the tastes of the day. Many hotels across the country were
90
Greta Guest, “Is Broderick Tower a home run for upscale housing?” Detroit Free Press, April 5, 2012,
http://www.freep.com/article/20120405/BUSINESS04/204050476/Is-Broderick-Tower-a-home-run-forupscale-housing- (accessed April 22, 2013).
91
Robert Sharoff, American City: Detroit Architecture 1845-2005 (Detroit: Wayne State University Press), viii.
92
David Kohrman, Detroit’s Statler and Book-Cadillac Hotels (Charleston: Arcadia Publishing, 2002), 77.
93
Kohrman, 91.
43
Figure 13. The Book-Cadillac Hotel just
before opening in 1924.
Figure 14. The lobby of the Book-Cadillac
Hotel.
Figure 15. The Italian Garden ballroom of the Book-Cadillac Hotel featured a glass ceiling with
built in light and sound effects that replicated different types of weather.
Figure 13: “Ready for Business.” In Detroit’s Statler and Book-Cadillac Hotels: the Anchors of Washington
Boulevard, David Kohrman, 75. Charleston: Arcadia Publishing, 2002.
Figure 14: “The Main Lobby.” In Detroit’s Statler and Book-Cadillac Hotels: the Anchors of Washington
Boulevard, David Kohrman, 80. Charleston: Arcadia Publishing, 2002.
Figure 15: “A Little Piece of Italy.” In Detroit’s Statler and Book-Cadillac Hotels: the Anchors of Washington
Boulevard, David Kohrman, 85. Charleston: Arcadia Publishing, 2002.
44
also remodeled or demolished during this time when simple modern design was in favor.
There is some evidence that shows the remodeling did not remove the original decoration
but rather covered it with simplified surfaces and materials.94 However, the grand staircase
was replaced with escalators. 95
As Detroit declined during the 1970s, so did the hotel.96 Sheraton sold the hotel
during the decline and it passed through the hands of a number of different owners. The
building closed in 1984 and much of its lavish interior decorations were lost to vandals and
thieves.97 Copper prices tend to be consistently high, so it is not surprising that large pieces
of the copper roof were stolen (Figure 16). What was left was rotted or damaged beyond
repair.98 This exposed the building to accelerated decay from Michigan’s harsh winters and
rain (Figure 17). Even the structural system was badly deteriorated. In the early 1990s, a
Land Use Task Force was created to determine a realistic redevelopment plan for Detroit.
The Task Force recommended dozens of buildings to be torn down because they had “no
viable reuse.” The Book-Cadillac was one of the buildings that the Task Force deemed fit
for demolition and it narrowly avoided this fate due to a lack of funds.99
In the early 2000s, the developer Ferchill Group, from Cleveland, purchased the
building. A restoration began in 2006, and the hotel reopened in October 2008. In total, the
94
Jim Ciesliga, “Book-Cadillac Hotel – Pre-renovation photos,” photograph,
http://historicdetroit.org/galleries/book-cadillac-hotel-pre-renovation-photos (accessed April 17, 2013).
95
W. Hawkins Ferry, The Buildings of Detroit (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1980), 213.
96
“Book Cadillac Hotel,” National Trust for Historic Preservation,
http://www.preservationnation.org/resources/training/awards/2009-national-preservation-awards/theferchill-group.html#.UW3Vfyu_ejQ (accessed October 13, 2012).
97
Hill and Gallagher, 74.
98
Brandy Baker, “Spring Cleaning at the Book Cadillac,”
http://info.detnews.com/pix/photogalleries/newsgallery/04212007BookCadillacSpring/index8.htm
(accessed February 17, 2013).
99
Camilo José Vergara, “Downtown Detroit,” Metropolis, April 1995, 35-6.
45
Figure 16. In this photograph the roof the Book-Cadillac is missing pieces of
copper, bricks, and shows deteriorated materials.
Figure 17. The Grand Ballroom of the Book-Cadillac was severely
deteriorated.
Figure 16: Ian Freimuth. “Book Cadillac Roof.” November 10, 2006 via Flickr. Creative Commons
License. http://www.flickr.com/photos/ifmuth/294225998/ (accessed April 10, 2013).
Figure 17: “Book-Cadillac Grand Ballroom.” Detroit Mon Amour.
http://www.detroityes.com/webisodes/2003/02bcad/0305BC-09GrandBallroom2.htm (accessed May
29, 2013).
46
project was funded from 22 different sources and cost an estimated $180 to $200 million.
The hotel now carries the name the Westin Book Cadillac Detroit. 100
The work included a full restoration of the building’s exterior to its 1924 appearance,
including replacement of the copper roof. The new hotel contains 455 rooms with 67
residences located on the top seven floors of the building.101 All material from the hotel’s
interior, including features that could have been preserved, was gutted.102 This included
decorative plaster ceilings in the lobby, decorative plaster in the Grand Ball room and other
areas of the hotel, wood trim and paneling, and other ornate details.103 A modern addition
was constructed on the north side of the hotel that contains conference rooms and a pool.104
Part of the funding for the total project came from a conservation easement that will prevent
the Ferchill Group from adding additional stories to the structure.105
Kaczmar Architects Incorporated, one of the design groups involved in the
restoration, states that public spaces such as the Grand Ballroom and the Italian Garden
were “restored to their original condition.” While it is true that the overall design of these
rooms is similar to the originals, all of the materials are new and the decorative forms have
been simplified.106 In 2009 the National Trust for Historic Preservation honored the BookCadillac with an award for the restoration and it is now listed on the National Register of
Historic Places.107
100
“Book Cadillac Hotel,” National Trust for Historic Preservation.
“Westin Book-Cadillac,” Kaczmar Architects Incorporated, http://kaczarch.com/hospitality/book-cadillac
(accessed February 19, 2013).
102
Dan Austin, “Book-Cadillac Hotel,” http://historicdetroit.org/building/book-cadillac-hotel (accessed
October 13, 2012).
103
Dan Austin. Email to Sophie Reich. April 17, 2013.
104
“Westin Book-Cadillac,” Kaczmar Architects Incorporated.
105
Mike Spector, “A Developer Bets on Detroit By Giving Old Hotel a Facelift,” The Wall Street Journal, June
1, 2007.
106
“Westin Book-Cadillac,” Kaczmar Architects Incorporated.
107
Book Cadillac Hotel,” National Trust for Historic Preservation.
101
47
Figure 18. The Grand Ballroom of the Book-Cadillac after the restoration.
Figure 19. The Italian Garden of the Book-Cadillac after the restoration.
Figure 18: Frank Nemecek. “Book-Cadillac 028.” October 6, 2008 via Flickr. Creative Commons
License. http://www.flickr.com/photos/fnemecek/2922892319/ (accessed May 29, 2013).
Figure 19: “Book-Cadillac 025.” October 6, 2008 via Flickr. Creative Commons License.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/fnemecek/2923741352/ (accessed May 29, 2013).
48
Analysis
While both of the restorations of the Book-Cadillac and the Broderick were
considered successful for the status of historic preservation in Detroit, it is important to
critically analyze the restored buildings in the context of restoration theory. The BookCadillac set a questionable standard in the interpretation of the meaning of “restoration”
that has since been followed by other projects, such as the Broderick Tower. By removing
signs of decay and decline, neither project accurately conveys the history of Detroit, the
Rust Belt, or the nation as a whole.
Before discussing individual theories regarding restoration it is necessary to first
identify the values associated with each building. Alois Riegl’s designations of the different
types of monuments and the values that can be perceived in them provide the best
framework for this. Riegl’s concept of the unintentional monument explains how some
buildings such as the Book-Cadillac Hotel and Broderick Tower, through the passage of
time and events, had taken on the character of being monuments to deindustrialization
despite the fact that their creators intended no such thing. The abandonment, decay, and
deterioration experienced by both structures are indirect consequences of the city’s decline
due to deindustrialization. The visual connection between deindustrialization and
deterioration is apparent and for decades the Book-Cadillac and the Broderick stood as
symbols for how far the city had fallen into despair.
For buildings such as the Book-Cadillac and Broderick Tower, the quality of being
an unintentional monument to deindustrialization has been altered through restorations.
While Riegl himself would say it is perfectly reasonable that the buildings be put back into
49
use, removing the traces of deindustrialization and decay has undermined the historicity of
the structures. Riegl’s systems of values can also help in the understanding of how these
buildings have been perceived over time. When the Broderick and the Book-Cadillac were
built they had newness-value. They were symbols of Detroit’s growth as a city in the early
twentieth century and they dazzled visitors with their opulent decorations and modern
amenities. When the buildings closed in the 1980s and 90s, it was a major loss to the city
and an indication of just how bad the state of Detroit had become. By this time the buildings
had taken on historic value and both the Broderick and the Book-Cadillac were being seen
in the context of architectural history as exceptional examples of Detroit’s pre-World War II
skyscrapers. Their abandonment put them at risk of either decaying beyond recognition or
being torn down and the potential loss of history was a concern to many people.
As decaying buildings they took on age-value. To people living in Detroit, the BookCadillac and Broderick Tower, along with thousands of other abandoned and semi-ruined
structures, were reminders of the city’s problems of poverty, crime, and neglect. To
outsiders, the buildings were perceived with a sense of awe and interest, reactions, which
Riegl explains, are a result of seeing something relatively new in a ruined state.108 Detroit is
not ancient Rome after all, where the ruins are associated with a culture that has long since
disappeared, but the buildings and lives of a recent and memorable past.
When the buildings reopened, they once again took on the partial quality of being
new and as such, having newness value. This was in no small part because the interiors of
each building were nearly gutted and redone with completely new material. Neither of the
buildings was truly restored, as the treatments were a mixture of restoration and renovation.
108
Riegl, 32.
50
Apart from their exterior, neither structure contains much of their original materials.
However, retention of material is not the primary issue with these restorations, but rather
the loss of time’s visible traces. Without these, deindustrialization’s impact on the buildings
is erased.
At the Book-Cadillac Hotel, the attempt to restore the exterior of the building and
some of the public spaces to their 1924 appearance is impossible as understood through
Ruskin’s theories. From Ruskin’s perspective, merely starting the rooms over from scratch
would never capture the craftsmanship of the original builders. This is actually evident in
that the decorative details of the ballrooms are greatly simplified. The modern day builders
did not attempt to replicate the complicated work of the original buildings, choosing instead
to smooth over the appearance of the fine details. Furthermore, Ruskin would argue that
both the Book-Cadillac and the Broderick restorations have caused the buildings to lose
their ability to serve as memory capable of conveying history. Those outside of the
preservation profession have realized this as well, with some expressing surprise, and a bit of
disappointment, over the interior of the Book-Cadillac’s similarity to any other Westin
Hotel and other upscale modern hotels.109
Camilo Boito, as predecessor to the ideas of Giulio Carlo Argan and Cesare Brandi,
would no doubt express dismay over the treatment of the Book-Cadillac Hotel and
Broderick Tower. He would have argued to save as much of the original material as possible
from both buildings. In places where material was destroyed or too badly damaged to
preserve, Boito would have insisted on replacing the lacunae with a material different from,
109
Louis Aguilar, “Detroit hotels’ modern twist on history,” The Detroit News, December 16, 2008,
http://www.detroitnews.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20081216/BIZ/812160361/1008
(accessed May 19, 2013).
51
but compatible, with the original. Boito also insisted that entire restoration processes be well
documented and any changes made to the historic structure should be either visually evident
or explained to the viewer through signage.
Argan and Brandi would have echoed the ideas of Boito, but they would have delved
deeper into the specifics of treating the lacunae. According to Brandi’s theory, the restorer
can never reenter the creative process of the original designer. To him, merely starting the
design of the Book-Cadillac’s public spaces over from scratch would never be able to
recapture the grandeur of those spaces. Rather, he would suggest embracing the entire
lifespan of the building and preserving existing material while compensating for the lacunae.
This could be done by cleaning and repairing the extant material and filling the lacunae with
a compatible material that is visually differentiated by either a difference in surface level,
texture, or tone.
As viewed by the guidelines of the Venice Charter, both buildings followed
inadequate restoration procedures. Since both the Book-Cadillac and the Broderick were
gutted, the entire interiors of these buildings “bear a contemporary stamp” as stipulated by
Article 9. However, Article 9 intended for the contemporary stamp to show a direct contrast
between new and old so that the viewer or future conservator could easily tell the two apart.
When the entire interior of a historic building is made new, the viewer loses part of their
ability to determine the historicity of the structure. They can tell it is new construction, but
they cannot judge what the new is historically based upon. Article 11, which states that all
significant periods of a work of architecture should be preserved in respect to each other, has
been blatantly ignored in the two case studies from Detroit. In both buildings the architects
and developers chose the splendor of the 1920s as the period of significance and a
52
hybridized modern conception of this time period was carried out in the actual restorations
that leaves the viewer with an overall sense of confusion as to the authenticity of the
structures. According to theory, no individual person or group should be able to decide the
importance of one time period over another. Instead, the entire lifespan of the BookCadillac and Broderick Tower should have been considered, including the period of decline
and deterioration caused by deindustrialization.
Neither of the Book-Cadillac or Broderick Tower projects fully meets the Secretary of
the Interior’s Standards for Preservation Projects. The intent to reestablish the BookCadillac as a hotel and return it to its 1920s appearance fits the Standards’ description of
“restoration,” but the project followed none of the Standards with the exception of Number
1, which stipulates that the “property will be used as it was historically.”110 The most glaring
example that the Book-Cadillac did not follow the Standards can be filed under Number 6:
“Deteriorated features from the restoration period will be repaired rather than replaced.”111
Gutting the building is not permissible within this Standard. The Broderick Tower project
more appropriately fits under “rehabilitation,” since the original use of the building was not
maintained. However it too did not follow the Standards since the historic character of the
building has been compromised through the gutting and remodeling of the interior.112 It is
puzzling that both of these projects received 20% historic preservation tax credits in light of
the disregard to the Secretary of the Interior’s Standards.
Were the restorations of the two buildings in Detroit to have been carried out in
better accordance with restoration theory, there would be some obvious concerns about the
usability of these structures. For one, how can a building that has been ravaged by the
110
“Standards for Restoration.”
Ibid.
112
“Standards for Rehabilitation.”
111
53
effects of poverty, abandonment, and decay be made habitable again in a way that is both
functional and aesthetically pleasing? To answer this question, three case studies in
Germany that have addressed similar issues of destruction and loss will be examined from
the same context of history and theory.
54
Chapter Five: Germany as Case Study
Select examples of German restorations on buildings that were affected by World
War II offer a possible alterative to the current treatment of buildings in the Rust Belt.
Though the nature of war and deindustrialization is completely different, they are similar in
that both offer the potential to dramatically alter the built environment. Several historic
buildings in Germany have been restored to preserve the significance of loss and pay respect
to the painful legacy of war. The term ‘deindustrialization’ was first used after World War II
as the Allied forces dismantled Germany’s industrial sites.113 The country had been
decimated by the war, millions were dead, and whole cities had been obliterated. Forced to
take responsibility for the war and come to terms with the unthinkable loss of human life
and cultural heritage, Germany was able to embrace some of its scarred buildings and adapt
them so that the past, present, and future could be understood within a single structure. In
this way the German people were able to accept the loss caused by war while moving on so
that both people and buildings could have a continued lifespan.
There was not a consistent approach to the treatment of ruined or partially ruined
buildings in Germany like there was in other countries following the end of the war. This
was due in part to the division of the country between east and west, the effects of which
were concentrated in Berlin. Within Berlin the treatments varied widely; historic buildings
were torn down, preserved as ruins, restored, and reconstructed.114 Treatments that
recognized the destruction of the war and the country’s division and directly addressed the
113
Cowie and Heathcott, 1.
Brian Ladd, “The Royal Palace and the Wounds of History in Berlin,” in Architectural Imitations:
Reproductions and Pastiches in East and West, ed. Wim Denslagen and Niels Gutschow (The Netherlands: Shaker
Publishing, 2005), 204.
114
55
complete history created buildings with a palpable sense of loss. Three of these restorations
are the Alte Pinakothek in Munich, the Reichstag, and the Neues Museum in Berlin.
Alte Pinakothek
The work done to the partially destroyed Alte Pinakothek in Munich is one of
Germany’s first examples of restoration that incorporates the lacunae as a design concept.
Completed in 1836, the Alte Pinakothek is a neo-Renaissance style art museum that suffered
extensive damage and partial destruction during bombing raids from 1943-1944.115 The
middle of the building’s southern façade had been reduced to rubble by the war (Figure 20).
In 1949 there was talk of tearing the building down, which produced protest from citizens.
In a petition sent to the Rundfunk, the public broadcasting authority in Bavaria, the
concerned citizens pleaded for the preservation of Alte Pinakothek, stating: “we have lost so
much, that we do not want to lose what can still be preserved.”116 To the people of Munich,
saving buildings that were culturally and historically important, however damaged they may
have been, was a chance to begin the healing process. To demolish the building would only
have added to the immense sense of loss already being carried by the German peoples.
Once it was decided that the building would be saved, there was further debate about
exactly what treatment should be used to restore it. On one side were traditionalists who
argued that the damaged parts of the building be reconstructed, as many other buildings
were after the war, to reestablish order in the historic urban landscape. Opposing the
traditionalists were the modernists who could not accept the erasure of the war through the
Alte Pinakothek’s reconstruction. A unique compromise between the two sides was offered
115
Achim Schröer, “Alte Pinakothek, Munich,” Twentieth Century Society, July 2005,
http://www.c20society.org.uk/botm/alte-pinakothek-munich/ (accessed February 23, 2013).
116
Gavriel D. Rosenfeld, Munich and Memory: Architecture, Monuments, and the Legacy of the Third Reich (Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 2000), 41.
56
Figure 20. The destroyed southern façade of the Alte Pinakothek.
Figure 21. Hans Döllgast’s restoration of the Alte Pinakothek.
Figure 20: “The ruin of the Alte Pinakothek at war’s end.” In Munich and Memory: Architecture,
Monuments, and the Legacy of the Third Reich, 42. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2000.
Figure 21: Digital Cat. “Alte Pinakothek München.” August 26, 2010 via Flickr. Creative
Commons License. http://www.flickr.com/photos/14646075@N03/4930397694/ (accessed May
29, 2013).
57
by architect Hans Döllgast’s plan for the building, which was accepted in 1952. The design
specified that the Alte Pinakothek’s lost portions would be rebuilt, but would not copy the
appearance of the original structure. Rather than reconstructing the destroyed sections of the
building, Hans Döllgast rebuilt them out of rubble and other salvaged materials from the
war (Figure 21). The missing portion of the building’s south façade was rebuilt with bricks,
which is easily differentiated from the rest of building’s stone exterior. The south façade’s
fenestration was restored, but the brick sections are noticeably devoid of any detail or
ornamentation. Döllgast also preserved other scars of war, such as bullet holes and
pockmarks caused by the fighting. Sections of the museum that had remained standing but
had lost ornamentation or detail were left in its damaged condition without any attempt at
compensation.117 In total, the building is a stark representation of a city coming to terms
with loss and the violent destruction of war. While the building’s scars and visible record of
war are unmistakable, preserving the existing material and replacing the lost has allowed the
museum and the citizens of Munich to have a renewed life.
There are not many other examples of buildings like Döllgast’s “creative
reconstructions” from the immediate post-war period.118 He was the main practitioner of
such treatments and few others copied his example. All throughout Europe many other
damaged buildings were demolished or restored to their pre-war appearance, in either case
leaving no visible trace of the war’s effects. It was not until the reunification of Germany in
1989 that discussions of preserving the memory of World War II and the Cold War in the
built environment were revived. One of those most significant of these debates centered on
how to preserve Berlin’s languishing Reichstag building.
117
118
Ibid., 41-4.
Schröer.
58
Reichstag
The idea for the Reichstag first came into existence in 1871, when, under the
guidance and leadership of Otto von Bismarck, the German Empire was founded. The need
for a parliamentary building was paramount to Bismarck as it would be the symbol for the
newly formed German unity. 119 In 1881, a competition for the design was held with more
than 189 entrants. Paul Wallot received the commission for the Reichstag in 1882 and the
foundation stone was laid two years later.120 More than ten years later, in 1894, the
Reichstag became operational as the home of the German Bundestag.121
The style of the Reichstag is unlike any other building from its time. In a period of
growing nationalism, the nascent German Empire was searching for its own architectural
style to represent national pride and achievement. Wallot designed a composition that
mixed stylistic forms from Italian Renaissance, High Baroque, Gothic, Romanesque, and
Neoclassical that created something entirely eclectic.122 Wallot’s interior was Germanic and
baroque. The classical elements of the building had associations with the governments of
ancient Rome and Greece, which was an attempt to legitimize the unstable German
government.123
On February 27, 1933, a fire started in the Reichstag’s plenary chamber. It is likely
that the Nazi Party started the blaze, but they blamed it on the communists and used it as a
reason to dissolve the legislature. The Reichstag’s chamber was completely destroyed and
the building was patched up enough only to keep the elements from getting in. Albert Speer,
119
Bernhard Schulz, The Reichstag: The Parliament Building by Norman Foster (Munich: Prestel, 2000), 19-21.
Ibid., 19-21.
121
David Booth. “Reichstag Resurrection.” Architectural Review, 157 (March 1975), 185.
122
Norman Foster et al., Rebuilding the Reichstag (Woodstock: The Overlook Press, 2000), 39-40.
123
Tim Martin, “Signs of Tragedy Past and Future: Reading the Berlin Reichstag,” Architectural Design 70, no.
5 (October 2000), 33.
120
59
Figure 22. The Reichstag after the Treaty of Versailles.
Figure 23. The Reichstag was badly damaged at the end of World War II.
Figure 22: “Reichstag against the Treaty of Versailles.” http://www.boerner.net/jboerner/wpcontent/uploads/2012/01/Mass_demonstration_in_front_of_the_Reichstag_against_the_Treaty_o
f_Versailles_thumb.jpg (accessed October 15, 2012).
Figure 23: “The battered shell of the Reichstag after the Second World War.” In The Reichstag: The
Parliament Building by Norman Foster, Bernhard Schulz, 28. Munich: Prestel, 2000.
60
Hitler’s architect, created a plan for Berlin that included turning the Reichstag into a
library.124 Though Hitler never spoke in the Reichstag, it is widely believed that he did, and
the unfortunate legacy of that myth stuck with the building. The Nazis rarely used the
Reichstag as a government-meeting place; rather, it served as a space for displays of antiSemitic and anti-Bolshevik propaganda. During World War II, the Reichstag was used as a
medical library and maternity ward. 125 In 1945, the Soviets captured the building, which
they mistook for being the central government building of Nazi Germany and Berlin as a
whole.126 Following the war the Reichstag, which had been further destabilized by bombing
and artillery fire in the war’s final days, was in such deteriorated condition that it became
necessary to remove what was left of the original dome.127
After the war, the building remained vacant for almost a decade before any decision
was made regarding its future. A competition to rebuild the Reichstag was started in 1960,
but the rise of the Berlin Wall in 1961 dimmed any hope that Berlin would remain the
capital of the nation. The construction of the Berlin Wall placed the Reichstag on the edge
of West Berlin’s borders. Paul Baumgarten won the commission and completed a minimal
restoration in 1971. A concrete frame was inserted into the massive stone structure and the
interior was essentially gutted and given a modern remodeling.128 Baumgarten’s work on the
Reichstag dealt very little with the historical features of the building and in some instances
actually destroyed them. Ornate carvings and details throughout the building that had
survived the war were chiseled off the stone to provide a smooth surface for drywall to be
124
Foster et al., 47.
Ibid., 46-7.
126
Schulz, 23-7.
127
“Reichstag,” Berlin.de, accessed September 28, 2011,
http://www.berlin.de/orte/sehenswuerdigkeiten/reichstag/index.en.php.
128
Booth, 185.
125
61
attached.129 The failure to recognize the significance of loss from fascism, war, and neglect
during the 1971 restoration or to preserve the existing original material undermined the
Reichstag’s historicity and added another layer of loss to the site.
In 1992, following reunification, a competition began for a second restoration of the
Reichstag. The brief stated that the new design “should exhibit transparency, expressing
accessibility to the public and a sense of pleasure in communication, discussion, and
openness.”130 The competing architects were faced with the challenge of simultaneously
creating a form that dealt with the muddled symbolism of the Reichstag, German history,
the loss incurred through war and neglect, and creating a new symbol of a transparent
German democracy. After two rounds of competition, a dramatic reduction of the brief, and
a series of revisions, Norman Foster won the commission.131 In the case of the Reichstag,
history could not be celebrated, but rather required a tasteful remembrance and Foster was
prepared to directly address that painful memory.
The exterior and structural system aside, very little of the building’s original fabric
remained. Therefore, Foster made it a priority to retain as much of the surviving material as
possible and to preserve the extant traces of loss that had survived or been covered over
during the 1970s restoration. As the project team removed the interior surfaces completed
under Baumgarten, forgotten parts of the building’s history were revealed. Under the
drywall, graffitied on the original stonewalls, were the signatures of Soviet soldiers that had
captured the Reichstag at the end of the war.132 Foster and the building committee agreed
that it was important to retain the graffiti rather than completely erase it.
129
Schulz, 65.
Ibid., 30.
131
Ibid., 31-3.
132
Ibid., 120.
130
62
Throughout the interior it was decided to preserve fragments of rock walls damaged
by bombing and other trauma to the building. The distinction between the historic and new
fabric is made clear through differences in surface level, texture, and material. In addition,
exposing the rough stone blocks where ornamentation had been removed also preserved
vestiges of damage caused to the Reichstag during the 1970s restoration.133 In places where a
functional or prominent feature of the structure had been destroyed, such as with the
cupola, Foster and the building decided it was necessary to design a replacement in order to
recomplete the form of the structure. The decision to recreate a dome is reminiscent of
Wallot’s destroyed cupola. Foster’s dome serves several important functions in the design of
the building; whereas, Wallot’s cupola was purely decorative. In Foster’s glass dome helical
ramps wrap around the inside of the dome allow visitors to climb almost to the top,
providing them with two important views central to the themes of democracy and German
pride. The first theme is that the visitors can actually see down into the plenary chamber and
observe its activities, an important symbol of government transparency. The second theme
is that the ramps create 360-degree vistas of Berlin, allowing for visitors to take in the
splendor of the city. The use of new architecture to replace a necessary feature of the
building allowed the historic structure to take on new values important to the people of
Germany.
Norman Foster could have reconstructed the Reichstag or built something entirely
new within its walls given the building’s semi-ruined state and previous insensitive
treatments. Instead he created a progressive work of historic preservation that dutifully
133
Ibid., 65.
63
Figure 24. The interior of the restored Reichstag
shows the graffiti of Soviet soldiers that has been left
on the walls. The carved ornamentation around the
doorway was removed during the Baumgarten
restoration.
Figure 25. Norman Foster’s dome on the restored Reichstag.
Figure 24: “A reopened doorway in the east corridor: the once elaborate doorways were hacked
away in the 1960s.” In The Reichstag: The Parliament Building by Norman Foster, Bernhard Schulz, 65.
Munich: Prestel, 2000.
Figure 25: Philippe Amiot. “Reichstag 3.” July 15, 2011 via Flickr. Creative Commons License.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/philippeamiot/5966543221/ (accessed May 29, 2013).
64
preserves the parts of the building that survived to the present day and recognizes the
multiple layers of loss evident within it. Foster seamlessly blends historic with contemporary
architecture that, while it may mimic the past form, embodies new German values for the
future.
Neues Museum
Our vision was not to make a memorial to destruction, nor to create a
historical reproduction, but to protect and make sense of the extraordinary
ruin and remains that survived not only the destruction of the war but also the
physical erosion of the last 60 years.
This concern led us to create a new building from the remains of the
old, a new building that neither celebrates nor hides its history but includes it.
A new building that was made of fragments or parts of the old, but again
conspiring to completeness. Where each decision, whether about repair,
completion or addition, was grounded by the articulation of its physical
quality and its meaning, where all parts of the building attempt to inflect to a
singular idea; an idea not of what is lost, but what is saved.
- David Chipperfield
The Neues (New) Museum is a part of Berlin’s renowned Museum Island
(Museuminsel), located between two canals in the Spree River. The island has five museums
in total: the Altes Museum, Neues Museum, Nationalgalerie, Bodemuseum, and the
Pergamon Museum. In 1999, Museum Island was inscribed on the United Nations
Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization’s (UNESCO) World Heritage List. As a
cultural center, the island is a product of the Age of Enlightenment and each museum was
designed with specific collections in mind.134 The plan for the Neues Museum was
conceived in 1841 due to the Altes (Old) Museum’s inability to absorb any more of Prussia’s
growing collections of art and cultural heritage. Designed by August Stüler, the classical
134
“Museuminsel (Museum Island), Berlin,” UNESCO, http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/896 (accessed May 8,
2013).
65
structure has a Doric stoa, Ionic main story, and Corinthian attic. 135 Work commenced in
1841 and galleries were opened to public on a basis of rolling completion. The building was
fully completed in 1859.136 The museum’s interior was highly decorative with each room
painted or detailed to reflect the collection it housed. The building also featured spectacular
murals by Wilhelm von Kaulbach in the staircase hall.137 The museum was, and still is, a bit
of a technological marvel as it is built on very sandy soil, making it necessary for Stüler to
employ a number of innovative techniques to keep the weight of the structure down.138
At the outbreak of World War II, the Neues Museum’s collections were relocated to
other locations for safeguarding. The only exception was that of the Egyptian Collection,
most of which remained in the building. Attempting to protect it, the museum staff encased
immovable pieces of the Egyptian Collection with bricks and sandbags. Allied bombing
from 1943-1945 heavily damaged the Neues Museum, along with much of Berlin (Figure
26).139 The building’s main staircase area was completely destroyed by fires and water
damage. The northwest wing and southwest wing were also partially destroyed (Figure 27).
Following the war a temporary roof structure was built over the east wing, but the
main staircase hall and northwest and southwest wings were left open to the elements until
1989.140 The German Democratic Republic stabilized the structure with steel, concrete, and
brick, but did so without any aesthetic considerations. The building remained a ruin for the
duration of the Cold War. It wasn’t until 1994, after Germany’s reunification, that work
135
Joseph Rykwert, “The Museum Rejuvenated,” in Neues Museum Berlin, ed. Rik Nys and Martin Reichert
(Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2009), 25.
136
“History,” Neues Museum, http://www.neues-museum.de/geschichte.php?lang=en (accessed April 1,
2013).
137
Rykwert, 28-31.
138
Julian Harrap, “Freezing the Ruin,” in Neues Museum Berlin, ed. Rik Nys and Martin Reichert (Verlag der
Buchhandlung Walther König, 2009), 128.
139
“History,” Neues Museum.
140
“Chronology,” in Neues Museum Berlin, ed. Rik Nys and Martin Reichert (Verlag der Buchhandlung
Walther König, 2009), 259.
66
Figure 26. The partially destroyed Neues Museum following World War II.
Figure 27. The damaged staircase hall of the Neues Museum.
Figure 26: “Neues Museum before restoration.”
http://memphistours.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/neues_museum_berlin-old.jpg (accessed May
29, 2013).
Figure 27: “Staircase hall.” http://www.thehistoryblog.com/wpcontent/uploads/2009/10/neuesstairway.jpg (accessed May 29, 2013).
67
could begin on restoring and rebuilding the Neues Museum. The building first had to be
stabilized by replacing the pile driven foundation and constructing temporary roofs over the
previously exposed sections. A competition was held in 1992 between eighteen architecture
firms for the museum’s plan. The competition specified that a successful design would be
achieved by:
•
•
•
Complementing the partially destroyed Neues Museum, including the
necessary extensions in the area of the Kupfergraben [canal].
Construction, or reconstruction, of connecting passageways to the
Pergamon Museum.
Construction, or reconstruction, of a connection between the Neues
and Altes Museum.
In 1994 the jury in charge of judging the competition selected Italian architect
Giorgio Grassi. The runners-up were (in order of placement): David Chipperfield
Architects, Francesco Venezia, Frank O. Gehry, and Axel Schultes. 141 In the next three
years there were concerns about Grassi’s plan regarding whether or not it would allow the
Neues Museum to become a functioning museum again.142 The board of trustee’s issue with
the winning design was that it envisioned each of the museums on Museum Island to exist
individually. The physical connections between the Neues Museum and the Altes and
Pergamon Museums were not strong enough in Grassi’s design, so in 1997 the board of
trustees reversed their decision and asked the five finalists to submit new proposals.143 From
there the board narrowed the competition to the designs by David Chipperfield and Frank
O. Gehry. In his own admission, Gehry saw the Neues Museum as the weakest link of the
five museums on Museum Island. It seems that in many ways he could not see past the
Neues’ semi-ruined state and even sought to obscure the building’s main façade behind two
141
Ibid., 261.
Ibid., 263.
143
Can Bilsel, Antiquity on Display: Regimes of the Authentic in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2012), 19.
142
68
new structures.144 Chipperfield’s design, on the other hand, was minimalist and allowed for
the building’s form to reemerge without trying to reconstruct the past, which in the end won
him the commission. Chipperfield’s restoration followed the guidelines of the Venice
Charter and its later adaptation, the Burra Charter, to guide the project. Restoration
architect Julian Harrap (also English) joined the project to guide the work toward utilizing
with the historic materials and spaces.
Like so many other buildings that had been partially destroyed during World War II,
the direction of the Neues Museum’s restoration could have gone a few different ways. The
function of the building as a museum informed the decision in part. Museums by nature are
intended to provide visitors with the opportunity to view objects and displays that are
genuine representations of the subject matter. The museum’s substance would be considered
inauthentic if the subject of the museum or display were misrepresented. From this
understanding, the need for the contents of a museum to be authentic also required that the
setting be authentic. If the Neues Museum’s history appeared falsified through
reconstruction, it might also appear that the museum’s collections were falsified. 145 At the
outset of the project the David Chipperfield/Julian Harrap team decided that the
generalities of the Venice and Burra Charter were not specific enough to address the
particulars of the Neues Museum. Three documents, “The Conservation Guidelines,
Concepts, and Strategy,” were drafted in order to guide the work. 146 These documents,
based on detailed conditions assessments, allowed the architects to make decisions about
the existing material as well as the new material based on a logical system.
144
Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe with Frank Gehry, Frank Gehry: The City and Music (London: Routledge, 2002), 40-41.
Karsten Schubert, “Contra-Amnesia: David Chipperfield’s Neues Museum Berlin,” in Neues Museum Berlin,
ed. Rik Nys and Martin Reichert (Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2009), 80.
146
Harrap, 123.
145
69
Figure 28. The distinction between old
and new material is clear on the exterior
of the restored Neues Museum. The new
northwest wing is on the left.
Figure 29. The treatment of lost finishes
within the Neues Museum’s interior.
Figure 28: Sara Goldsmith. “Neues Museum.” May 25, 2009 via Flickr.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/saragoldsmith/3651189207/ (accessed May 29, 2013).
Figure 29: Candida Höfer. “Roman Room.” In Neues Museum Berlin, ed. Rik Nys and Martin
Reichert, 157. Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2009.
70
It was necessary to completely rebuild the northwest wing of the museum. The bricks
were salvaged and are a color that compliments the surviving stone exterior (Figure 28). The
building’s original fenestration was maintained across the new wing, and while the overall
design is devoid of decoration (similar to the restoration of the Alte Pinakothek), the
horizontal corbelled band courses of brick continue the lines of the surviving structure.
For the surviving exterior walls it was necessary to replace or reinforce certain
sections with new stone or brick. The new stone is meant to develop a patina over time so
that it will blend more with the historic stone at some point in the future, but surface levels
remain slightly different, so it will always be possible to tell the two apart. Like the Alte
Pinakothek, which Harrap and Chipperfield both reference as inspiration, shrapnel scars
and other signs of trauma from the war were preserved.147
Within the museum’s interior, each room was considered individually. Some spaces
were relatively intact, while in others the original material was highly fragmented and it was
difficult to determine the original scheme. In each instance the architects attempted to
preserve as much of the surviving material as possible and prevent any further decay.
Lacunae, the missing parts, were filled in without trying to imitate the existing material in
either form or brightness. Reestablishing the surface with brick or plaster and manipulating
the texture or tone according to the context of the original decoration accomplished this.
The effect is that the historic decorations are visually brought to the front while the lacunae
are respectfully diminished to the background (Figure 29). In certain spaces, simplified
geometric forms were used to show decorative designs or details. Where portions of
147
Ibid.
71
structural materials were lost, such as in vaults, the volume of the form was reestablished in
a different material or tone (Figure 30). The restoration does not allow for any deception
about what is historic and what has been lost due to the war or time.
In the staircase hall it was necessary to rebuild sections of the walls and this was
done with salvaged bricks and terracotta blocks. The Kaulbach frescoes were destroyed in a
fire from the war and the cliff-like walls were left bare. The original staircase was also lost,
and in its place David Chipperfield designed a concrete staircase that echoes the original
form but is itself contemporary architecture (Figure 31). The simplicity of the contemporary
design does not compete with Stüler’s architecture and allows the building’s history to
remain in a central position. 148
The Egyptian Courtyard was so badly damaged that it was necessary to build a
contemporary gallery that also serves as structural support within the original space. In the
Greek Courtyard, the immense frieze that depicts the eruption of Mount Vesuvius and the
destruction of Pompeii was consolidated, meaning that the existing pieces were reinforced.
Reconstructions of the frieze were only done for small details that could be determined with
certainty from a plaster cast made before the pieces were lost.149
The restoration of the Neues Museum was an extreme act of patience. The
painstaking work has produced a building that is powerfully forthcoming about its history.
Once in limbo under the status of a ruin, the preservation of the Neues Museum has given it
a renewed life that allows it to move forward through history. Within its walls the story of
the building and of Germany is told through the visible contrast of new and old, of what is
there and what was lost. The completeness of the structure has been restored and through
148
149
Ibid., 124-126.
Ibid., 129.
72
Figure 30. The vaults have been reconstructed in a
different material from the original.
Figure 31. David Chipperfield’s staircase in the
staircase hall.
Figure 30: Friederike Von Rauch. “Mittelalterlicher Saal 2.” In Neues Museum, 21. Berlin: Hatje
Cantz, 2009.
Figure 31: Candida Höfer. “Staircase Hall.” In Neues Museum Berlin, ed. Rik Nys and Martin
Reichert, 87. Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2009.
73
this a hole in the Germany society has also been filled, allowing both the building and
people to accept history and advance towards a new future.
Analysis
As representations of loss that convey the memory of World War II, all three case
studies are successful to a degree. The Neues Museum had the benefit of being the most
recently completed of the three, and therefore its use of preservation theory and knowledge
is similar to, but more sophisticated than the Alte Pinakothek and the Reichstag. David
Chipperfield and Julian Harrap have clearly stated that they took inspiration from the Alte
Pinakothek.150 In between the restoration of the Alte Pinakothek and the restorations of the
Reichstag and Neues Museum, one of the most important historic preservation documents
of the twentieth century, the Venice Charter, was drafted. It should be mentioned that there
is some evidence that suggests Hans Döllgast merely used salvaged material because that is
what was cheap and readily available in the years following the war.151 It is likely that
Döllgast intended for the loss to the museum to be evident because he applied the treatment
of “creative reconstruction” to several other projects. Whether or not he would have chosen
materials more compatible to the original stone structure of the Alte Pinakothek if there had
been access to them or the money to do so is a different debate, which is the other benefit
that the Reichstag and Neues Museum had going for them; not only did the restorations
take place in a time of advanced restoration theory, but at that point Germany had the
financial resources to create these magnificent buildings that are the work of famous foreign
architects.
150
Wolfgang Wolters, “A conversation between Wolfgang Wolters and David Chipperfield,” in Neues Museum
Berlin, ed. Rik Nys and Martin Reichert (Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2009), 230
151
Rosenfeld, 44.
74
The values associated with the buildings in Germany are not dissimilar to the values
associated with the Book-Cadillac and the Broderick Tower in Detroit. Both sets of
buildings demonstrate periods of birth through design and construction, decline through
deterioration, and rebirth through restoration. However, the fundamental difference is in
the restorations and rebirth of these structures. When all three German case studies were
built they had newness-value. The Alte Pinakothek and Neues Museum were symbols of an
artistic and intellectual enlightenment in Germany and the Reichstag was the symbol of a
new German empire at the end of the nineteenth century. Just as the decayed and
abandoned buildings in Detroit and other Rust Belt cities became unintentional monuments
to deindustrialization, all three of the buildings in Germany became unintentional
monuments to armed conflict when they were bombed and damaged throughout the course
of World War II. The restoration of these buildings also had symbolic value for a new and
brighter German future. However, unlike the case studies in Detroit, the restorations in
Germany balanced newness-value with the historical and age-values of the structures. In
this way, the Alte Pinakothek, Reichstag, and Neues Museum are functionally and
aesthetically reborn while simultaneously remembering the past.
It is interesting to consider that John Ruskin and the Society for the Protection of
Ancient Buildings would most likely have been satisfied with the state of prolonged neglect
that the Reichstag and the Neues Museum experienced during the Cold War. Both
buildings were minimally stabilized during this time but otherwise left to decay, a treatment
that is at the heart of Ruskin’s theories. However, it is also difficult to imagine how Ruskin
would have reacted to the losses caused by the World Wars and whether or not such
wholesale destruction would have altered his attitudes of restoration and reconstruction.
75
Ruskin, along with many preservationists, would have been dismayed over the treatment of
the Reichstag in the 1970s. The insensitive removal of ornamentation from the building,
even if it was damaged, is an act that is considered by most restoration theories and
standards to be anti-preservation.
In particular the restoration of the Neues Museum makes use of the theories of
Giulio Carlo Argan, Cesare Brandi, and Paul Philippot. The original building’s richly
painted interior was well suited for the treatments of lacunae developed by these theorists
and conservation practitioners who adopted their theories from the treatment of paintings
and other works of art. The cleaning of the original paint finishes and the lighter tone
washes applied to the lacunae in order to reestablish the wholeness of the image is in
accordance with Brandi’s theories.
In all three buildings, the retention of the damage caused by artillery fire and
bombing, as well as other loss incurred through willful destruction and neglect, is in
accordance with Article 11 of the Venice Charter which states that all significant periods of
a building should be respected. In regard to Article 9, all three case studies also “bear a
contemporary stamp” in the additional work needed to recomplete the structures. It’s
possible the Reichstag may go a little beyond what is permissible as a “contemporary
stamp” in the abundance of modern materials and the redesign of floor plans, but this may
simply be a reflection of how little of the original building survived to the present. In the
context of Article 12 the Alte Pinakothek’s contrast of stone and brick is startling in a
detrimental manner, even if the effect of visual recognition of loss is achieved.152 It is
possible that a different material other than brick might have produced the same effect with
152
Article 12 states that replacement material should be compatible in form and style with the historic material.
76
a more harmonious appearance, but again, Döllgast was merely using what was available to
him. In both the Reichstag and the Neues Museum, the replacement materials are clearly
distinguishable as new, but are compatible in appearance and form, and do not disrupt the
overall harmony of the architecture.
The restorations of the Alte Pinakothek, Reichstag, and Neues Museum were
informed by the restoration theories of the nineteenth and twentieth century and are
successful buildings because of this. Theory creates a logical system from which consistent
decisions about the work can be made. It is important to understand that when used
correctly, restoration theory becomes a tool through which it is possible to accurately
convey the historicity of a building or site. In all three of these case studies, the creation of
buildings in accordance with accepted historic preservation standards made it possible for
the effects of loss caused by war, abandonment, and neglect to be commemorated in a
respectful and informative manner. The authenticity of these structures has ensured an
honest and forthcoming interpretation of history that in turn has helped the German nation
to symbolically reclaim the spaces.
77
Chapter Six: Appropriate Treatments for the Rust Belt
There are a few lessons that can be learned from the German case studies in applying
similar treatments to the Rust Belt. The circumstances of each place are unrelated, but the
similarities of the effects on the built environment between deindustrialization and war
provide the opportunity for comparison. The type of restorations used to repair German
buildings after World War II has the potential to effectively convey the significance of loss
in the Rust Belt. Adapted to its own culture and history of loss, a similar approach in the
Rust Belt could help revitalization and avoid the chance that the choices of the past be
repeated in the future.
In a city such as Detroit, where residents have waited so long for revitalization, it is
difficult to encourage people to slow down their decisions regarding the built environment.
Yet, without careful consideration of how best to treat cultural heritage, the city is in danger
of losing more than it has already. One of the greatest advantages the restorations of the
Reichstag and the Neues Museum had was the perspective of time. World War II is still in
recent memory but distant enough that people could fairly assess its meanings and effects.
The current state of restoration treatments in Detroit is akin to the restoration of the
Reichstag in 1971. The removal of damaged, but salvageable material, in favor of the
newness of modern construction is not restoration, but rather renovation and façadism. The
loss of the visible effects of deindustrialization adds another layer of loss to the sites in
Detroit and confuses its history. The gutting of the Book-Cadillac and the Broderick means
that the buildings’ histories can never be uncovered if it is decided in the future that second
restorations are needed.
78
There is still a need to develop restoration documents that recognize the significance
of loss, but it is remarkable how the Venice Charter is still a relevant document in projects
concerning the loss of buildings and materials. “The Conservation Guidelines, Concepts,
and Strategy” document drafted in order to guide the process of the Neues Museum has yet
to be published but when it is it may also prove to be a valuable resource in the treatment of
loss. Even more so, that document created by Chipperfield, Harrap, and their team shows
that it is not enough to rely on the generalities of any standard or theory. The specificities of
every individual project should be weighed in the decision making process before any work
is completed. Having a system of acceptable intervention is more likely to produce a
building with a clear understanding of history and meaning.
The logic of intervention created for the Neues Museum is exactly what makes it
such a successful restoration. The clarity of the building’s history is evident throughout the
entire structure. The contrast between compatible new and historic materials and features of
the building is harmonious and creates a perceptible story of loss. In all three of the German
case studies the renewed function and use of the buildings balances the history of loss and
destruction from war and neglect with the symbolism of renewed life and continuity.
Without trying there is no guarantee that the treatments used in Germany will be
effective in the Rust Belt. This treatment is not appropriate for buildings that may have
experienced a modicum of decay, but have been continuously occupied throughout the
period of deindustrialization. To be most effective in conveying history, the types of
treatments used in Germany are best applied to buildings that are public or semi-public.
That being said, such treatment could be used on any building that bears the effects of
deindustrialization, whether it be a home, office, or theater.
79
There are many other projects from around the world that have attempted to deal
with loss in unique and interesting ways. Several of these are offered in the following
paragraphs as another possibility for the treatment of loss in the Rust Belt. These examples
were not considered for the main focus of this thesis because the treatments that were used
or proposed did not place significance on loss or are not viable options for the majority of
functional buildings, with the exception of some small museums. Having said that, the use
of some of these alternative treatments in addition to treatments used in Germany could
create an even more powerful recognition of loss caused by deindustrialization in the Rust
Belt. The main emphasis is that a restoration project should be guided by the individual
circumstances of each building, but with the understanding that decay and deterioration are
indirect consequences of the larger trend of deindustrialization. In addition, those involved
in the restoration of historic buildings should be open to creative solutions for the
representation of missing or difficult history.
Lower East Side Tenement Museum
The Lower East Side Tenement Museum in New York City is another example of
museum that tells the story of loss. Built in 1863, the building was one of the city’s first
tenement apartment buildings that housed immigrants who came to America looking for
better economic opportunities. Abandoned during the 1930s, the building remained vacant
until the 1980s when it was purchased by historians who wanted to create a museum about
immigrants from the turn of the nineteenth century. Parts of the building were badly
decayed, but everything in its interior had remained intact since the 1930s. The tenement’s
information potential created the perfect environment to not only expand the knowledge
80
Figure 32. One of the “instructive ruin” apartments in the Lower East Side Tenement
Museum.
Figure 32: “Ruined Apartment/Tenement Museum, New York City.”
http://blogs.plos.org/speakeasyscience/2011/08/09/an-almost-perfect-murder/ (accepted May
29, 2013).
81
about the life of immigrants but also to tell their story.153 Several of the building’s
apartments have been researched and restored to tell the stories of real families that lived in
the rooms. The families lived there at different times so the restored apartments convey the
history of the building across several generations of immigrants. Other than the interpreted
apartments, the building has been stabilized but left more or less how it was found in the
1980s. The philosophy behind this was to create an “instructive ruin” that shows how
decades of abandonment had altered the building (Figure 32).154 The ability to demonstrate
loss through the actual decayed structure is possible because of the building’s function as
museum. It would be more difficult to apply the same treatment approach in a place where
people lived or worked. Even so, the treatment of the Lower East Side Tenement Museum
is another possibility for the treatment of some semi-ruined buildings in the Rust Belt.
American Acropolis
Camilo José Vergara is a sociologist and photographer who has devoted his career to
photographing and writing about inner cities, particularly those located in the Rust Belt. In
the mid 1990s Vergara wrote an article about Detroit for Metropolis magazine where he
proposed that in the city’s downtown “a dozen city blocks of pre-Depression skyscrapers be
stabilized and left standing as ruins: an American Acropolis.”155 In the 90s, when Detroit
had been through dozens of failed redevelopment plans and its future as a major city seemed
most uncertain, Vergara envisioned converting the downtown into a theme park that would
showcase the history of inner city abandonment. He suggested stabilizing the skyscrapers
153
“Our Story,” Lower East Side Tenement Museum, http://www.tenement.org/about.html (accessed May
15, 2013).
154
Andrea Marpillero-Colomina, “Partners in Preservation: Tenement Museum,” Untapped Cities, May 11,
2012, http://untappedcities.com/2012/05/11/partners-in-preservation-tenement-museum/ (accessed May 16,
2013).
155
Vergara, 33.
82
and other monumental buildings as ruins and letting nature take over to a certain extent.
Not surprisingly, many people found the industrial ruin park idea to be misguided and
offensive. Many of these objections were justified by economic concerns but Vergara
reasoned it would be less expensive than having to either demolish or rehabilitate the
buildings. 156 More than anything, the theme park seems to be based on the idea that Detroit
did not have anything left to lose, so why not try something outside of the standard
redevelopment strategies? The park is a romantic concept and an unconventional take on
the traditional monument. The most important aspect of this plan may simply be that
Vergara identified a need to preserve some aspect of deindustrialization and the powerful
effect it has on the landscape.
However, with the current revitalization efforts of Dan Gilbert and other
entrepreneurs, it seems unlikely that the theme park will ever happen in downtown. Perhaps
there is still a place for something like the “American Acropolis” elsewhere in Detroit. Even
with the renewed interest in the city, it is unlikely that any more than a small fraction of the
tens of thousands of vacant buildings will ever be restored. There is the potential to take five
hundred or a thousand of these buildings, as well as some of the many vacant lots, and
actually put Vergara’s plan into action. As he originally envisioned, the park would have
safe paths around or even in the buildings and the vacant land could be used for green
space. Information, on signs or other forms of interpretation, could be used to explain the
area’s history as well as the cause of its decline. The park would embody Ruskin’s theories
of restoration and would serve as another way to inform people as to the history of
deindustrialization and loss.
156
Ibid., 37-8.
83
Franklin Court, Philadelphia
The site of Benjamin Franklin’s home in Philadelphia is a unique example of
interpretation for a building that no longer exists and is an alternative to reconstruction.
Benjamin Franklin inhabited the house and used the print shop at Franklin Court from
1775-1776 as well as the last five years of his life. In 1812 the house was torn down to make
room for new development. The site is significant to the formation of the United States as
well as to Franklin’s life given the time period at which he lived and worked there.
Archaeological investigations were conducted at Franklin Court during three different times
in the mid-twentieth century.157 Following these excavations in the 1970s, the National Park
Service decided to reconstruct the house and print shop (for use as museums), as they would
have appeared during Franklin’s occupancy. This proved problematic as no one could be
sure what the buildings would have looked like and there were not enough historical records
to speculate. Instead, modern architects Robert Venturi and John Rauch designed a
structure that showed only what was factually known about the site. The design is a steel
“ghost” frame that merely shows the corners, roofline, and height of the house and print
shop. It has the overall appearance of a three-dimensional line drawing of a house (Figure
33). A floor plan of the two structures appears on the ground and there are several viewports
that allow people to see the excavated archaeological site below ground. 158 Venturi and
Rauch’s design is a completely honest interpretation of the site. It is at once evident that the
original buildings no longer exist while at the same time educating the viewer about the
history of the site. While the purpose may not have been to specifically address the loss of
157
“Independence NHP Archaeology at Franklin Court,” National Park Service,
http://www.nps.gov/archeology/sites/npSites/franklincourt.htm (accessed May 9, 2013).
158
Jorge Otero-Pailos, “Preservation’s Anonymous Lament,” Future Anterior, Vol. IV, No. 2 (Winter 2007), ivv.
84
Figure 33. Venturi and Rauch’s design at Franklin Court.
Figure 33: Elizabeth PS. “Franklin Court.” June 16, 2008 via Flickr.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/elizabethps/2720938874/ (accepted May 29, 2013).
85
the buildings, the steel frames stand as a compelling example of a means to convey the
complete history of structures no longer in existence.
Resonance, memory
The “Resonance, memory,” design by architecture students Bo Li and Ge Men, is a
hypothetical design for how to represent the loss of buildings. The inspiration of the project
was to design a memorial for a Swiss village buried in a mud landslide. On the surface Li
and Men recreated the village with plastic cylinders that, seen together, resemble the form of
the lost buildings (Figure 34). The plastic tubes also extend below ground into a cavern
where they project light in such a way that the forms of the lost village are created out of
light.159 Though this particular project is merely a studio exercise for the fictional loss of a
village, it is one of the most creative approaches used to evoke the memory of something no
longer there. The design itself of “Resonance, memory” is oriented to the local specifics of
the site and it is difficult to image a direct translation to the Rust Belt. However, it is the
creativity and openness to find an original and appropriate solution that makes Li and
Men’s design worth studying for any place attempting to address loss.
The Menokin Glass Concept Project
Francis Lightfoot Lee’s Menokin house in Virginia is an unusual approach to the
house museum and another creative example of including loss in the building’s
interpretation. Menokin was built in 1769 for Lee, who was one of the signers of the
Declaration of Independence, and his wife Rebecca Tayloe.160 By the twentieth century the
159
Geoff Manaugh, “Memorial to a Buried Village,” BLDGBLOG, October 17, 2012,
http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2012/10/memorial-to-buried-village.html (accessed October 14, 2012).
160
“History of Menokin,” The Menokin Foundation, http://www.menokin.org/history.htm (accessed May
17, 2013).
86
Figure 34. A rendering of the “Resonance, memory” project.
Figure 35. A rendering of the Menokin Glass Concept Project.
Figure 34: Bo Li and Ge Men. “Resonance, memory.”
http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2012/10/memorial-to-buried-village.html (accessed October 16,
2012).
Figure 35: “A 3-D rendering of how the glass house will eventually look.”
http://www.virginialiving.com/virginiana/history/history-under-glass/ (accessed May 29,
2013).
87
Georgian style house was rarely being used and throughout the 1960s through the 1990s
different sections of the structure collapsed.161 The building was designated a National
Historic Landmark in 1971 and since then conservators have been struggling to come up
with a preservation and interpretation plan for the heavily deteriorated site.162 Similar to the
Benjamin Franklin house and print shop, there was debate over whether or not to
reconstruct the lacunae of the Menokin House. Despite the high level of documentation of
the house before its collapse, the Menokin Foundation decided that merely reconstructing
the house would be a lost chance to do something more innovative. In 2011, the Foundation
began work on what is known as “The Menokin Glass Concept Project.” The concept is to
first use anastylosis, an archaeological and conservation practice in which fallen or broken
pieces of a monument are reassembled, for the existing original material of the house.163
Then a glass frame will be built around the house so that the completeness of the structure’s
form will be restored and further decay arrested, while also revealing the building’s
construction (Figure 35). In the project description, the Foundation wrote, “glass is not an
imitation of original fabric, but a demonstration of the original fabric’s absence: glass is a
separate artifact in its own right.”164 Unlike inauthentic reconstructed sections, the glass
creates an apparent contrast between the old and the new and the concept of loss is clear.
The goal of the project is to preserve and place as much significance as possible on the
original material but also to create a valuable learning environment. In addition, the design
161
Erin Parkhurst, ed., “Menokin,” House and Home Magazine,
http://www.thehouseandhomemagazine.com/Articles/Vol1No11/Menokin/tabid/275/Default.aspx
(accessed May 17, 2013).
162
“History of Menokin.”
163
Merriam-Webster, online edition, s.v. “Anastylosis.” Available at http://www.merriam-webster.com/.
164
The Menokin Foundation, “Request for Qualifications of Interested Teams: The Menokin Class Concept
Project,” June 6, 2011, http://www.menokin.org/RFQ%20Final%2006-06-11.pdf (accessed May 17, 2013).
88
is also a graceful approach to representing loss and clearly shows the unbroken history of the
structure as well as the effects of neglect.
89
Chapter Seven: Conclusion
Deindustrialization does more than take away jobs. The type of wholesale
disinvestment that occurred in the Midwest and Northeast of the United States in the
twentieth century changed those places from bustling metropolises into desolate landscapes.
Deindustrialization destroyed communities and brought some of the tallest buildings
tumbling to the ground. Unpleasant though it may be, there is a need to preserve some
memory of deindustrialization and the ways in which it shaped people’s lives and the built
environment. Historic preservation theories that pertain to the treatment of lacunae can be
the point of departure for possible restorations that have the ability to convey the multiple
experiences of loss within the Rust Belt. Analyzing the ways in which current treatments of
historic buildings in Detroit, Michigan interpret the past has shown that the signs of
deindustrialization are being removed from the landscape in the hope that this will help the
city and the Rust Belt revitalize. Instead, these insensitive restorations are compromising
the historicity of Detroit, the Rust Belt, and the nation as a whole. Rather than continuing
on the same path of erasure, the Rust Belt can look to German restorations of buildings
damaged in World War II for examples of how lacunae can be incorporated into usable
structures. These examples show that loss can be acknowledged as part of the story of a
place while simultaneously moving on to a different and, hopefully, better future. Cities in
the Rust Belt would benefit from examining the German examples and determining how
such treatments might be adapted to their own traumatized buildings.
Still unanswered is how communities in the Rust Belt will feel about the
interpretation of loss. Though it began more than sixty years ago, deindustrialization
continues to be a highly sensitive topic that has negatively affected the lives of many people
90
still alive in the Rust Belt. While some people may wish to forget the hardships they
endured as a result of deindustrialization, others may see the interpretation of loss in the
built environment as a way to pay respect to the communities that were dramatically altered
through urban decline. Additional information needed to further the argument for using
treatments similar to those in Germany is a comparative study on the costs of such
restorations versus other types of restorations. Also in need of examination is whether or
not the Secretary of the Interior would recognize the interpretation of loss as an appropriate
form of treatment for historic buildings and if historic preservation tax credits could be made
available to projects applying such an interpretation.
The current treatment of historic buildings in Rust Belt cities does not effectively
convey the significance of deindustrialization and the accompanying theme of loss. The
erasure of the hardships created by deindustrialization and the subsequent effects of urban
decline creates a falsified history for places such as Detroit, Youngstown, Gary, and many
others. Within the decaying built environment of the Rust Belt there is a need to embrace
historic preservation treatments that allow for the interpretation of loss to respectfully reflect
upon the hardships those cities have endured.
91
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