Spending time in a village with buildings that have been around for six hundred years, I am of course charmed by the storybook quality of everything. These old stone walls and cobblestone streets feel like something out of a fairy tale, and one cannot help but be swept up in the magic of it all.
But somewhere in the back of my mind I am wondering — in another six hundred years what will people make of the buildings from my own time, buildings that today are considered modern? Will future generations walk around in such places and feel that they have entered a storybook?
Or perhaps all of our modern buildings will be gone by then, swept away by the merciless sands of time. In contrast, I suspect this sturdy old village will still be around. Future generations will wander through its cobblestone streets marveling at the quaintness and charm of twelve hundred year old buildings made of stone.
And as they wander these streets, those people may very well be thinking to themselves — in another twelve hundred years, what will people make of the buildings from my own time?
It must be an instinctive understanding of structure and materiality within us, that allows us to feel safe and grounded amongst those old places. They have proven themselves to us as solid, strong and have countless stories that are written into their walls.
We can admire the workmanship that has made those, finding each stone and fitting it into its right place. We can read the gravity that has pulled the timber roof into it’s crooked shape but which is still holding up strong. The stormy nights that have blown dust and sand into little cavities and are now the bedding ground for moses and lichen that have settled down. We can see the polish on the cobble stone streets that comes from years and years of carrying feet, carriages and now even cars. All those materials age so well. They are at peace with getting old and fill our mind with stories. Will the same happen to the concrete walls of our time ? The curtain walls suspended on steel frames? Maybe not, they simply don’t age very well. The ones that might survive are those where we can see and appreciate the thought and care that went into making them. The sensitivity of its maker. The historic context they carry within them. Those we will restore, and rejuvenate to carry through the passage of time and those might be part of future storybooks.
Greetings from London : )
Very thoughtful comment!
Greetings from St. Andrews : )