Buildings often outlive their function; however, their inherent durability often gives the
building another life. There is a long tradition of buildings being adapted to suit new
functions. Roman basilicas were converted to serve as worship spaces for the nascent
Christian church. In medieval times, Roman fortifications were resurrected to form part
of the fabric of the mercantile cities. It was not until the advent of ready demolition and
the mechanization of the building process during the Industrial Revolution that the
practice of adapting old buildings to new uses became less the norm.
Following World War II, the pace of change in urban form, precipitated by
technological advances and social upheavals, quickened. As buildings became obsolete
and shifting land values directed economic development away from central cities,
particularly in North America, large-scale demolition became commonplace. In some
cases, well-built warehouses and industrial structures stood on land that had become
more valuable for other commercial and office uses, further accelerating demolition.
Housing that stood in the pathway of proposed highways was also torn down. Urban
renewal stopped short of its promise, and vacant buildings quickly became vacant land.
To combat these failures, preservation strategies were developed that employed the
existing built environment to suit new uses.
There are four distinct building types in which adaptive re-use of older structures can
be seen. Public buildings, which includes large transportation facilities like train stations
and civic buildings built in the 19th and 20th centuries being converted to new public and
private uses. Industrial buildings, with their large clear structural spans and, typically,
large expanses of windows or skylight, lend themselves particularly well to housing an
enormous variety of new use groups. Private buildings, like large houses, can serve
multiple functions because of the inherent flexibility of the prototype. Finally,
commercial buildings, the structures that are so emblematic of the advances in
architectural technology in the 20th century, are being recycled with different uses,
presenting unique preservation problems, as architects must address issues related to
preserving buildings that employed contemporary technology.
The U.S. government owns many magnificent historic structures and has taken the
lead in finding new uses for its stock of buildings, serving as an example for private
sector development. In Washington, D.C., the Pension Building, an imposing brick
edifice, was constructed shortly after the Civil War to provide office space for agencies
distributing pensions to war veterans and their families. Its primary distinctive feature is a
large, central skylit atrium space that allows the ring of offices access to natural light.
The building stood dormant for many years until a major restoration project started in
1984 enabled the National Building Museum to occupy the lower floors of the building,
with the bulk of the building retained for government offices. The soaring splendor of the
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 22
building’s interior serves as an excellent advertisement of its function as a museum for
the built environment.
Also in Washington, D.C., is the Old Post Office Building, another atrium building.
Completed in 1899, the neoRomanesque building was almost demolished in the early
1970s. Fortunately, as a result of the dedicated efforts of local preservationists and the
daunting cost of demolishing such a huge structure, the building was renovated in 1978.
The three lower levels of the building, including the atrium, were converted to restaurants
and retail, with the perimeter of the building on the upper level retained as office space.
One of the most well-known re-uses of a dormant train station is Gae Aulenti’s
remaking of the Gare d’Orsay in Paris as the national museum of art and civilization. Originally
opened for train traffic in 1900, both the building’s short platform lengths and changes in
travel patterns lead to the abandonment of the station shortly after World War II.
Reopened as a museum in 1986, the renovation makes use of the original attached hotel
within the head house as exhibition space. Built within the volume of the train shed are
smaller structures that house more intimate display space for sculpture. Despite the
somewhat awkward intrusion of these galleries within the shed, the sense of the original
great volume of the space is still preserved.
In the United States, the nation’s private railroad system developed a legacy of
magnificent structures throughout the country. When train traffic declined following
World War II, these buildings, centrally located in the downtowns of virtually every
American city, sometimes were virtually abandoned or, worse, torn down in the case of
McKim, Mead and White’s Pennsylvania Station in New York. Union Station in St.
Louis (Theodore C.Link), built in 1894 and renovated and modified in the early 1980s, is
a good example of an important building restored to a new life. The barrel-vaulted Grand
Hall functions in much the same way as it was originally intended, now serving as a hotel
lobby and entrance to a multiuse complex that includes a parking garage and a restaurant
and retail center within the former train shed. The shed, the largest of its type ever built,
is organized into “neighborhoods” to make the integration of the building’s multiple
functions more coherent. When Union Station was renovated, the ornate and eclectic
spaces within the head house were restored and glass was inserted into the vaulted train
shed, flooding the interior with natural light.
In Philadelphia, a large commuter train station built for the Reading Railroad in 1893
became redundant in 1984 when a subterranean tunnel was constructed below it, linking
the area’s railways to a regional network. The beautiful steel and glassvaulted shed and
Renaissance revival terra-cotta facade were empty for several years as several different
alternatives were studied for a possible re-use. Critical to the success of the project was
the maintenance of the historic food market below the train shed. The Pennsylvania
Convention Center, built in 1992 (Thompson, Ventulett, Stainback and Association),
incorporates the Reading Terminal into the new construction, maintaining both this vital
piece of urban architecture and the market’s social importance in the city fabric. The head
house serves as the ceremonial entrance for the convention center as well as a hotel. The
train shed links the entrance from the principal street to the new large convention center
that spans over two adjacent blocks.
The first International Style skyscraper, the PSFS Building (George Howe and
William Lescaze), also in Philadelphia, was constructed in 1932 and served for many
years as the headquarters for a local bank and office building. The building had retail on
Entries A–F 23
the ground floor with a cool modern banking hall on the second floor. After the bank
went out of business in the early 1990s, the building stayed dormant for many years.
Despite the high esteem held for the building locally, its relatively small floor plate did
not attract the interest of businesses seeking space where the need for a large floor
negated the desire to have ready access for natural light. Fortunately for the building,
developers converted it to a hotel that uses the original banking hall as a multipurpose
room. The former retail space now serves as a ground floor lobby and restaurant. The
renovation is truly successful and the building retains its landmark neon sign, first lit to
advertise the bank during the depths of the Depression.
Private buildings that have been adaptively re-used range in size and character from
urban townhouses to urban palaces and castles set alone in the countryside. Museums are
the most common new use for these buildings, often commemorating the house and
holdings of the original occupant, as in the Hearst Castle in San Simeon, California, and
the Biltmore House in Asheville, North Carolina. Alternatively, the urban mansions are
often converted to art museums, making use of the variety of spaces, both small and
grand. Institutions like the CooperHewitt Museum in the former Carnegie mansion and
the Frick Museum, both in New York City, serve as excellent display space for sculpture
and paintings of all manners of style and size. In European countries like France, Spain,
and Portugal, châteaus and castles have been converted into hotels. The Spanish
government, in particular, has made the conversions of these castles into paradores for the latter
half of the 20th century a matter of restoration policy.
Industrial buildings offer the most flexible typology for conversion. Mills and old
factory structures are typically solidly built and often offer large expanses of natural light.
Industrial buildings are generally anonymous buildings that, in the early part of the 20th
century, were executed, if not by architects, then by highly competent vernacular
builders. The prototype was a relatively recent phenomenon, and the pace of construction
of these buildings accelerated during the time of great urban industrialization that
coincided with a particularly eclectic period in architecture. Consequently, these
buildings hold important social and physical significance in the urban context. The solid
structures of these buildings may have contributed to their longterm survival; in some
cases, the cost of demolition made their destruction not as viable an option, allowing time
for alternative uses to be found.
Housing has been a popular choice to occupy these spaces. In the United States, the
vanguard of the movement to convert former industrial properties to housing was the
SoHo neighborhood in New York City. What started as flexible and inexpensive space
serving as artist studios became coveted by those looking for expansive living quarters in
neighborhoods that the artists had helped to become fashionable. Outside of New York,
one of the better-known early preservation and conversion projects is Lowell Mills in
Lowell, Massachusetts, a mixed-use complex that helped to revitalize a portion of that
moribund town.
These mill buildings are now also adapted to house the industries of the information
age, the economic successor to the industrial revolution. Offices for computer technology
firms, professional offices, and material and product showrooms in early 20th-century
industrial loft buildings are such a commonplace sight in urban centers that it is often
forgotten that those buildings were not originally constructed to house those functions.
One particularly striking conversion is the Templeton Factory in Glasgow, Scotland, a
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 24
former carpet mill built in a colorful and stylized Venetian Gothic style in 1898. The
building complex was considered for demolition following its abandonment in 1978 as
the result of changes in manufacturing technology. Preservation as a museum was
rejected. In the early 1980s, a scheme was devised to convert the building into a hybrid
research and business incubator center run by a local government development agency.
Winston Churchill’s aphorism—“We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us”—
rings true. Preservationists seeking to link the past with the future take exception to this
rule as we continue to shape our buildings, adapting them to new functions. Adaptive reuse
as a tool used by architects, like the larger preservation movement, is a 20th-century
phenomenon. The preservation of older buildings by giving them new uses also serves as
part of an overall strategy for urban designers, city planners, and the consortium of public
and private forces that view this approach as a tool of economic development. The supply
of older and significant buildings is a source of sound urban ecological regeneration. As
preservation practice evolves, the emphasis is shifting away from strict restoration to an
attitude that frees the building from its former use.
ACOUSTICS
As Charles Garnier prepared the design for the Paris Opera House in 1861, the lack of
acoustical design information and the contradictory nature of the information that he
found forced him to leave the acoustic quality to chance and hope for the best. With few
exceptions, this was the condition of architectural acoustics at the beginning of the 20th
century. In 1900, with the pioneering work of Wallace Clement Sabine, the dark
mysteries of “good acoustics” began to be illuminated. In his efforts to remedy the poor
acoustics in the Fogg Art Museum Lecture Hall (1895–1973) at Harvard University,
Entries A–F 19
Sabine began experiments that revealed the relationship among the architectural materials
of a space, the physical volume of the space, and the time that sound would persist in the
space after a source was stopped (the reverberation time). Predicting the reverberation
time of a room provided the first scientific foundation for reliable acoustic design in
architecture. This method is still regularly used as a benchmark to design a range of
listening environments, from concert halls to school classrooms.
The first application of this new acoustical knowledge occurred during the design of
the Boston Symphony Hall (1906) by McKim, Mead and White. Original plans for the
hall called for an enlarged version of the Leipzig Neues Gewandhaus (1884), a classical
Greek Revival theater. The increased size would have been acoustically inappropriate, as
it doubled the room volume, leading to excessive reverberation. Sabine worked with the
architects to develop a scheme with a smaller room volume in the traditional “shoe box”
concert hall shape. The Boston Symphony Hall remains one of the best in the world.
Adler and Sullivan’s Auditorium Building (1889) in Chicago was praised for its
architectural and engineering achievements as well as for the theater’s superb acoustics.
As the profession of acoustical consulting emerged in the design of listening spaces, the
firm of Bolt, Beranek and Newman made a significant impact on the development of
architectural acoustics in the 20th century. Their work with architects Harrison and
Abramovitz on Avery Fisher Hall (1962) in New York City represented a legitimate
attempt to incorporate new scientific principles of acoustical design rather than merely
copying previous halls that were known to be good. Although it presented several
failures, one key acoustic point gleaned from a study of European halls for Avery Fisher
Hall was that the room should hold 1,400 to 1,800 seats. Yielding to economic pressures,
the architect increased seating to almost 3,000.
A more successful implementation of modern acoustical theories is the Berlin
Philharmonic (1963). Architect Hans Scharoun’s vision of a hall in the round blurs the
traditional distinction between performer and audience. The approach posed quite an
acoustical challenge, given the directionality of many orchestral instruments; it required
an extremely unconventional acoustical design. The resulting “vineyard terrace” seating
arrangement resolved many potential acoustical difficulties while creating a spatial
vitality that resonates outward to form the profile of the building. This collaboration
between Scharoun and the acoustic consultant Lothar Cremer engendered a truly inspired
architectural design.
Possibly inspired by the failure of Avery Fisher Hall and the desire to understand what
went wrong, concert halls, as the crucible for applying sonic theories, gave rise to an
acoustical renaissance in the latter part of the 20th century. Acoustically designed spaces
need high-quality direct sound, strong sound reflections from the ceiling and side wall
surfaces soon after the direct sound, a highly diffuse and controlled reverberance, and
heavy solid sound reflecting materials. Formerly thought to be mutually exclusive, these
sonic properties exist together in the latest halls of the 20th century through an integration
of both historic precedent and new understandings of room acoustics and listening. An
extraordinary example of this union is the 1,840-seat Concert Hall in the Cultural
Congress Center (1999) in Lucerne, Switzerland, by architect Jean Nouvel and acoustic
consultant Russell Johnson.
New techniques for improved acoustic environments are applied in many building
types, including school classrooms, music practice rooms, church sanctuaries, movie
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 20
theaters, transportation hubs, and industrial facilities. Simultaneously, with more and
more exposure to digital-quality sound, clients have become keenly aware of their sonic
environment and expect high levels of performance. Speech intelligibility in classrooms
has been related to learning, with efforts to reduce excessive background noise from
mechanical equipment. The issue has become the focus of a U.S. federal government
assessment and proposal for a nationwide acoustical standard for schools. Additionally,
careful selection of materials, their quantities, and their locations in classrooms are
important to enhance speech intelligibility. Music practice spaces require adequate room
volume with both soundabsorbent and sound-diffusing materials to control loudness and
reduce the risk of noise-induced hearing loss to musicians and teachers. Religious liturgy
relies more heavily on intimate spoken sermons, cathedral-like choir singing, and highpowered
amplified music in many denominations. These trends, coupled with a
prevailing increase in sanctuary size and the desire for more congregational interaction,
have demanded sophisticated sound reinforcement systems and carefully configured
room acoustic design strategies to strike a balance among divergent sonic criteria. Digital
surround sound, the new standard in movie theater entertainment, incorporates the
environmental acoustic character as part of the movie sound track, which should not be
colored by the theater space. This requires very low reverberance, low background noise
levels from mechanical equipment, and exceptional sound isolation from adjacent
theaters. Unintelligible announcements, the bane of transportation hubs, have been the
focus of many recent acoustical studies, affirming the need to consider room geometry,
size, and material selection as they play as great a role as the actual announcement system
itself in the success of these spaces.
Many meaningful advances in acoustic knowledge were made in the 20th century. The
application and integration of this information within architectural design leaves much
room for advancement. Alvar Aalto’s famous acoustical ray tracing diagrams for the
lecture room of the Viipuri Public Library (1933–35) in Viipuri, Finland, represent
acoustical thinking in the earliest phases of design. Developing sophisticated methods to
assimilate newer acoustical knowledge as part of the architectural design process is the
work at hand in the 21st century.
acoustical design information and the contradictory nature of the information that he
found forced him to leave the acoustic quality to chance and hope for the best. With few
exceptions, this was the condition of architectural acoustics at the beginning of the 20th
century. In 1900, with the pioneering work of Wallace Clement Sabine, the dark
mysteries of “good acoustics” began to be illuminated. In his efforts to remedy the poor
acoustics in the Fogg Art Museum Lecture Hall (1895–1973) at Harvard University,
Entries A–F 19
Sabine began experiments that revealed the relationship among the architectural materials
of a space, the physical volume of the space, and the time that sound would persist in the
space after a source was stopped (the reverberation time). Predicting the reverberation
time of a room provided the first scientific foundation for reliable acoustic design in
architecture. This method is still regularly used as a benchmark to design a range of
listening environments, from concert halls to school classrooms.
The first application of this new acoustical knowledge occurred during the design of
the Boston Symphony Hall (1906) by McKim, Mead and White. Original plans for the
hall called for an enlarged version of the Leipzig Neues Gewandhaus (1884), a classical
Greek Revival theater. The increased size would have been acoustically inappropriate, as
it doubled the room volume, leading to excessive reverberation. Sabine worked with the
architects to develop a scheme with a smaller room volume in the traditional “shoe box”
concert hall shape. The Boston Symphony Hall remains one of the best in the world.
Adler and Sullivan’s Auditorium Building (1889) in Chicago was praised for its
architectural and engineering achievements as well as for the theater’s superb acoustics.
As the profession of acoustical consulting emerged in the design of listening spaces, the
firm of Bolt, Beranek and Newman made a significant impact on the development of
architectural acoustics in the 20th century. Their work with architects Harrison and
Abramovitz on Avery Fisher Hall (1962) in New York City represented a legitimate
attempt to incorporate new scientific principles of acoustical design rather than merely
copying previous halls that were known to be good. Although it presented several
failures, one key acoustic point gleaned from a study of European halls for Avery Fisher
Hall was that the room should hold 1,400 to 1,800 seats. Yielding to economic pressures,
the architect increased seating to almost 3,000.
A more successful implementation of modern acoustical theories is the Berlin
Philharmonic (1963). Architect Hans Scharoun’s vision of a hall in the round blurs the
traditional distinction between performer and audience. The approach posed quite an
acoustical challenge, given the directionality of many orchestral instruments; it required
an extremely unconventional acoustical design. The resulting “vineyard terrace” seating
arrangement resolved many potential acoustical difficulties while creating a spatial
vitality that resonates outward to form the profile of the building. This collaboration
between Scharoun and the acoustic consultant Lothar Cremer engendered a truly inspired
architectural design.
Possibly inspired by the failure of Avery Fisher Hall and the desire to understand what
went wrong, concert halls, as the crucible for applying sonic theories, gave rise to an
acoustical renaissance in the latter part of the 20th century. Acoustically designed spaces
need high-quality direct sound, strong sound reflections from the ceiling and side wall
surfaces soon after the direct sound, a highly diffuse and controlled reverberance, and
heavy solid sound reflecting materials. Formerly thought to be mutually exclusive, these
sonic properties exist together in the latest halls of the 20th century through an integration
of both historic precedent and new understandings of room acoustics and listening. An
extraordinary example of this union is the 1,840-seat Concert Hall in the Cultural
Congress Center (1999) in Lucerne, Switzerland, by architect Jean Nouvel and acoustic
consultant Russell Johnson.
New techniques for improved acoustic environments are applied in many building
types, including school classrooms, music practice rooms, church sanctuaries, movie
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 20
theaters, transportation hubs, and industrial facilities. Simultaneously, with more and
more exposure to digital-quality sound, clients have become keenly aware of their sonic
environment and expect high levels of performance. Speech intelligibility in classrooms
has been related to learning, with efforts to reduce excessive background noise from
mechanical equipment. The issue has become the focus of a U.S. federal government
assessment and proposal for a nationwide acoustical standard for schools. Additionally,
careful selection of materials, their quantities, and their locations in classrooms are
important to enhance speech intelligibility. Music practice spaces require adequate room
volume with both soundabsorbent and sound-diffusing materials to control loudness and
reduce the risk of noise-induced hearing loss to musicians and teachers. Religious liturgy
relies more heavily on intimate spoken sermons, cathedral-like choir singing, and highpowered
amplified music in many denominations. These trends, coupled with a
prevailing increase in sanctuary size and the desire for more congregational interaction,
have demanded sophisticated sound reinforcement systems and carefully configured
room acoustic design strategies to strike a balance among divergent sonic criteria. Digital
surround sound, the new standard in movie theater entertainment, incorporates the
environmental acoustic character as part of the movie sound track, which should not be
colored by the theater space. This requires very low reverberance, low background noise
levels from mechanical equipment, and exceptional sound isolation from adjacent
theaters. Unintelligible announcements, the bane of transportation hubs, have been the
focus of many recent acoustical studies, affirming the need to consider room geometry,
size, and material selection as they play as great a role as the actual announcement system
itself in the success of these spaces.
Many meaningful advances in acoustic knowledge were made in the 20th century. The
application and integration of this information within architectural design leaves much
room for advancement. Alvar Aalto’s famous acoustical ray tracing diagrams for the
lecture room of the Viipuri Public Library (1933–35) in Viipuri, Finland, represent
acoustical thinking in the earliest phases of design. Developing sophisticated methods to
assimilate newer acoustical knowledge as part of the architectural design process is the
work at hand in the 21st century.
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