Changes to buildings must refer to local traditions and detail, writes Barry Joyce
What makes a place distinctive - different from anywhere else? There are many contributory factors. Landscape, language, occupations, customs, food, buildings and spaces between buildings are some of them. Combined, they determine the identity of a place - the characteristics which become familiar and give people a sense of belonging.
We can no longer take the richness and diversity of different places for granted. Modern ways of life are leading to greater uniformity. A motorway service station in Nottinghamshire may be indistinguishable from one in Kent, or even Calais. Bread baked to a standard formula and sold in standard wrapping will taste and look the same no matter in which of 50 locations it has been produced.
Buildings, and the materials from which they are made, are major factors which determine the distinctiveness of our towns and villages. For centuries limitations in transport meant that buildings were constructed from the ground beneath them - either stone from local quarries or brick baked from local clay, with roofs covered with local straw, reed or heather, or with thin slabs of local stone or tiles made of local baked clay. Such materials automatically look right for that place because they come from that place. The colour is right, the texture is right and even the shapes determined by the materials are right.
The character of buildings is further enhanced and made more distinctive by local traditions in building craftsmanship. For example, in Derbyshire and Yorkshire eaves gutters are still commonly made from a solid balk of timber.
The economic discipline which determined the use of local building materials and craftsmanship is now no more, but to some extent it still happens through choice - the choice either of individuals or of local planning policy. It is an irony that what was once the cheapest and most convenient way of building is now only followed by deliberate choice and often at greater cost.
To what extent, then, are we indulging in nostalgia when we say we want local traditions to continue? It is alleged by some that we have an obsession with the past and that our system of protecting historic buildings is too restrictive. Nevertheless our built `heritage' is a finite thing - once it has gone it cannot be recreated - and it is widely prized and enjoyed. We are also becoming more aware of the concept of sustainability. The cost of using traditional local materials and workmanship should be re-examined and set against the cost of long distance transport and the use of artificial materials which require high energy production methods.
Many of the elements which contribute to the local scene have no formal protection, and their preservation lies essentially in the hands of the owner. No matter how comprehensive any imposed system of protection may be, it cannot be effective if the majority of people who own the buildings are not, themselves, in sympathy with the need for conservation.
The pity is that while there is very considerable sympathy for conservation, the small details which add up to make the bigger picture of the village, hamlet or town are rarely valued in their own right. How many paid-up members of the National Trust come back from a visit to a country house to their own homes where sash windows have been replaced with brown-stained casements with stick-on leaded lights - all done with the best possible intentions? The grand fa‡ade of the country house may be admired for its handsomely proportioned windows, but what of the brilliance of the old crown glass in the Yorkshire sashes of the cottage next door?
We will never grasp the distinctive local character of each place unless we are prepared to pay attention to the vital local details - the style of a door-knocker, the shape of a chimney, the materials of a garden path. In this we are not just concerned with the preservation of old buildings. New buildings too will continue to be put up, and old buildings adapted to new uses. There are some splendid new buildings which, through the use of local materials and traditional constructional detail, speak of their own time and yet fit well into the local scene.
Such buildings, however, are few and far between. Of course, architects, builders and home-owners must embrace creativity and innovation - pastiche is a dead-end. But only by paying close attention to local detail - the detail of roofs and walls, chimneys and gutters, doors and windows, signs, pavements and shop-fronts - will we heal our many damaged towns and villages and create a harmonious and pleasing built landscape for the future.
Barry Joyce is Principal of Heritage and Design at Derbyshire County Council. His book, Derbyshire, Detail and Character, was recently pblished by Alan Sutton at £12.99
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© Council for British Archaeology, 1997