Thursday, January 31, 2013 8:00 am

Previously, we wrote about Oscar Niemeyer’s architectural legacy and the relatively non-Eurocentric direction of Latin American modernism. While Niemeyer’s undulating buildings present unique restoration challenges, the U.S. is also facing trials with its own, typically rectilinear modern buildings. Looming large are the weather extremes of climate change and the quest for energy efficiency, making it apparent that the worst aspects of our mid-century buildings are their envelopes.
Designers of concrete and masonry architecture in our temperate zones often disregarded energy consumption and thermal comfort in the last century. Their buildings are a virtual list of today’s “don’ts”…too much glass, single-pane glass with an R-value of one, concrete thermal bridges with a flywheel effect in the wrong direction, zero insulation, and poor air and vapor barriers.

Elson Arts Center, Phillips Academy, Andover, MA
Perfectly rectilinear yet large single-glazed openings allow significant heat loss and solar heat gain. The school replaced the windows with new “oversized” insulated glazing units with low-emissivity glass, nearly doubling the R-value of the walls.
During the mid-twentieth century, nuclear fusion was seen as a new, “clean” alternative to fossil fuels, producing energy so inexpensive, it wouldn’t need to be measured. “Our children will enjoy in their homes electrical energy too cheap to meter,” said Lewis L. Strauss, chair of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission, in 1954. And waterproofing? What waterproofing? A building document of the period that we recently discovered directed the contractor to “wedge tight” a window between two concrete panels with but a single fillet bead of caulk to close the gaps.
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Friday, December 21, 2012 8:00 am

Though this post was originally set to address the exterior enclosures of mid-century modern buildings, we thought it important, instead, to reflect on the recent death of modernist master Oscar Niemeyer and what might have been.
Niemeyer’s passing serves as yet another benchmark in the passing of the mid-century modern movement into our distant memory. Generally speaking, North American architects are not very familiar with the Brazilian architect’s work. Many would be unable to conjure up mental imagery of it, beyond his government buildings at Brasilia, United Nations collaboration, and perhaps a residence or two. During Niemeyer’s prime, these architects were, as they largely remain today, primarily Eurocentric in their focus.
In mid-century America, Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe were chiefly regarded as the “true” masters of the modern movement. Even in more recent history, we’ve paid little attention to the legacy of Niemeyer and his colleagues to the south such as Alfonso Reidy and Lina Bo Bardi in Brasil, Carlos Raúl Villanueva in Venezuela, and the Mexican masters Juan O’Gorman, Luis Barragan, and Felix Candela. We seem to know of them, but not much about them. All of this this might have been very different if Harvard GSD had followed through with its intention to select Niemeyer as its dean when it had the chance.

Carlos Raul Villanueva. Covered plaza, University of Caracas, 1952-1953. Photographer unknown. Printed in do.co.mo.mo, Journal 42 – Summer 2010.

Alfonso Eduardo Reidy. Primary school and gymnasium, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 1948-1950. Printed in Latin American Architecture Since 1945, Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1955.
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Wednesday, December 5, 2012 8:00 am

Our preceding post, Concrete – The Offending Material, explored the expressive potential and construction-related problems common to the monolithic architectural concrete of mid-20th century. Here we focus on the typical fenestration of these concrete buildings and the issues inherent to their windows’ preservation and restoration.
Brutalist architecture exploited the visual potential of monolithic glazing in large openings as part of a materials dialog with concrete surface textures and mass.
University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, Paul Rudolph, completed 1966. Brutalist architecture used smooth, transparent, monolithic glazing in large openings to emphasize mass and textured concrete surfaces. [Photo: Bruner/Cott]
Frameless, non-operable butt-glazing developed along with concrete construction, introducing a new scale of transparency into large areas of massive structure. It allowed for extreme simplification—concrete building facades could be conceived as the architectural elaboration of a single material…plus glass.

Green Building, MIT, I. M. Pei, completed 1964. Frameless glazing minimized distraction from the sculptured contours of concrete building facades. [Photo: Bruner/Cott]
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Monday, November 12, 2012 8:00 am

Our last post, “Materials and Building Components,” described modernism’s growing emphasis on monolithic concrete walls as an alternative to traditional masonry. While conservation of brick and stone are now well understood, failures in exposed concrete are presenting new challenges, both technical and aesthetic. Monolithic concrete no longer has the same hold on the imaginations of architects as it did for the Brutalist masters, and technical difficulties have contributed to the demise of its popularity. Understanding how to preserve this honest, raw material is crucial to saving a seminal style from sure extinction.

Mechanical Failure
An irregular hairline crack in the concrete chimney of Le Corbusier’s Dominican Monastery of La Tourette (Éveux, France; completed 1960).
From Walking through Le Corbusier by José Baltanás (London: Thames and Hudson, 2005), p16.
Technical and Aesthetic Challenges
Mechanical failures showed up in mid-century concrete wall sections almost immediately, but the chemical changes that affect the walls’ integrity and longevity are more insidious and these were slower to emerge. The technical aspects of restoring concrete are especially challenging when compared with brick and stone, as concrete walls contain embedded steel, and steel’s corrosion can be destructive in many ways. Concrete restoration is also difficult aesthetically. Unfortunately today, the escalating default response for many building owners and their consultants is to apply elastomeric coatings over entire concrete facades, changing their appearance in a way that undermines the façade’s character and significance. Poorly conceived and executed repairs only amplify this trend.
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Friday, October 12, 2012 8:00 am

Our most recent post on Debating the Value of Mid-Century Modern discussed the architect as multi-party advocate and mediator. It was the last in a series that explored the interactions among the stakeholders of these buildings and how original design intent may hamper or encourage their rehabilitation and reuse. With this post, we begin a series that will focus on the technical aspects of modern materials and assemblies, including how construction methods of the period affect today’s decisions about the repair and improvement of mid-century building envelopes.
From the beginning, materials were significant to the design intent of modern architects and to the performance of their buildings. This trend first emerged in Europe before World War I, when design forcefully aligned itself with industrial production, challenging centuries of architectural values and design approaches. Visually, buildings no longer reflected history. Instead, they echoed the aesthetics of civil engineering and industrial structures. Traditional craftwork was replaced by factory-built components assembled on site with a minimum of expressive handwork, just as glass, steel, and concrete began to be viewed as expressive elements. This shift represented a deliberate affront to refined stone surfaces, the complexity of carved ornament, and the social hierarchies implicit in previous building facades and spaces.

The recessed windows, deep sills, and overhanging cornices of masonry buildings such as McKim, Mead & White’s 1872 Boston Public Library (left) shed wind-driven rain better than the sheer elevations of International Style buildings like Walter Gropius’s 1926 Bauhaus School in Dessau, Germany (right).
Photo Credits: Boston Public Library Collection, no known restrictions; and Flickr user Franz Drewniak (drz image), respectively
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Monday, September 24, 2012 9:00 am

In our previous post, the Owner/Occupant Perspective, we identified the push-pull issues between these two factions in renovating mid-twentieth century modern buildings. Here, we explore Stakeholder Equilibrium as the value of these structures is debated, and the role architects play in this mix.
Our experience in addressing the rehabilitation of this building type has grown over the years. In the process, we have found that our role as architects has expanded to include an advisory role, both before and during the design process. Because of our track record in identifying the value of these structures, we are frequently brought in to mitigate and resolve differences among those who debate a building’s fate, usually a structure that’s disliked by its users and owners alike, yet may be judged to have historic value by preservationists or architects.

Boston University School of Law Sert complex as seen from the Charles River upon its completion.
More than a year ago, we were commissioned to restore and renovate Boston University’s (BU) School of Law and Law Library (begun by Josep Lluis Sert in 1962). We went into this commission with the understanding that our role would have to include mediation, to enable the stakeholders to set aside their prejudices about these buildings and to see the project anew. In the process, we were surprised to find that we, as architects, needed to do the same thing. Many members of our firm, some of whom studied under Sert, had admired his buildings for years. Charged with defending and restoring landmark buildings that we once only knew from a distance, we had to tone down our reverence in order to see the challenge of the project clearly.
The problems with the Sert buildings at BU, agreed upon by the owner (BU) and the user (the law school), are similar to the trials and tribulations of other buildings of their type—concrete and window failures, a poorly insulated building envelope, and sub-standard heating and ventilating systems. In addition, the 18-story law school tower seemed to pose a series of unsolvable problems, due to its inadequate elevator system design. The original arrangement of six small and slow elevators has made daily vertical movement by hundreds of students, over the course of 50 years, very difficult and time-consuming. As a result, the law school faculty doubted that the Sert building could ever serve their academic needs. Additionally, the university faced growing annual maintenance and operating costs for the rapidly deteriorating building. The preservation community added another voice to the mix; they expressed their unqualified affection for the Sert buildings.

Boston University School of Law Sert complex model view from the east.
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Thursday, August 23, 2012 8:00 am

Our last post, The Preservationist Perspective, addressed a key issue we typically face regarding the value of mid-twentieth century modern buildings and their reuse. Here we examine the issue of owners and occupants.
To preserve their sizable real estate investments, to enhance the value of their properties, and to ensure that their occupants/tenants continue to lease their spaces, owners must maintain and operate their buildings to suit all these demands. This is a growing challenge for many owners and operators of mid-century modern structures. As the call for the demolition and replacement of these buildings heats up, the root animosity towards them may go deeper than aesthetics alone.

Henry Moss, Bruner/Cott principal and preservation expert, discusses the exterior of Gund Hall at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design with the client team.
As buildings age, even if maintained properly, they frequently become less acceptable in our culture of “the new.” Recent history is quick to go out of vogue. Styles change and historic design, even when it’s fairly new, is seen as antiquated in form and function. Often we begin to appreciate a particular style only with the passage of time. The same is not true of function. We expect more comfort in our environments today: consistent heating and cooling, better lighting, and convenient access. As occupancy standards become more stringent, building owners face a growing challenge from their tenants who demand such comforts in return for the rent they pay. And, if those occupants dislike “modern” materials, particularly concrete, they may become even more vocal about creature comforts.
As building owners face the rising costs of such out-of-the-ordinary maintenance as material failures of glass and concrete, they begin to ask, “Do I continue throwing good money after bad? Do I replace this structure?”

Spalling concrete, a readily apparent indicator of building deterioration, on a Josep Lluis Sert building at the Boston University School of Law.
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Tuesday, July 31, 2012 8:00 am

Our last post, “Stakeholder Equilibrium,” identified the historic preservation community as a critical voice in the debate about whether and how to reuse mid-twentieth century modern buildings. But today we face the challenge of a divided voice among preservationists: There are those who have a long-held reverence of original materials and those who recognize this way of thinking as unrealistic for many modern buildings.
The preservation ethic that has guided American and European architects regarding the repair, restoration, and adaptive reuse of historic buildings was originally derived from principles of fine arts conservators. William Morris, the English artist and textile designer, was an originator of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings (SPAB). The society was formed in the Victorian period as a reaction to the demolition of Gothic church interiors to make way for the new. Morris his fellow Arts and Crafts advocates wanted to protect and conserve authentic, original, historic material with all of its inherent craftsmanship and association with lives past intact. Their fundamental credo was to “repair rather than replace.” The Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for the Treatment of Historic Properties, established in the wake of the 1966 National Historic Preservation Act, is a direct product of this Victorian preservation ethic, almost universally applied to craft-laden masonry and wooden structures from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Single-glazed curtain wall, Harvard Graduate School of Design, Gund Hall (John Andrews, completed 1969). Photo by Bruner/Cott.
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Wednesday, July 11, 2012 8:00 am

The sleek structures of the International Style, symbols of corporate America’s innovative modernity, are turning 50. These buildings are favored by the real estate community and accepted by the public. But the same is not true for the architecturally aggressive Brutalist style of the 1960s and ’70s, more typically understood as symbols of America’s institutional durability. At the time they were designed and constructed, colleges and universities—as well as municipal, state, and federal governments–viewed poured-in-place concrete as a symbol of permanence and institutional longevity. The sculptural possibilities of the material seemed unlimited for a new generation of designers, but the public’s perception of concrete as an unfriendly architectural finish has outlasted its once perceived aesthetic benefits. Today, there are escalating appeals for the demolition and removal of many of these buildings, and battle lines have been drawn between building owners, occupants, and preservationists. We think these buildings are important legacies of an era, so we’re looking for ways to find effective design solutions acceptable to all stakeholders, transforming these “out-of-date” structures into useful, up-to-date, state-of-the-art environments.

Peabody Terrace at Harvard, University (Josep Lluis Sert, completed 1963), exterior view and concrete restoration.
Photos by Steve Rosenthal, Bruner/Cott
Here are the key issues we typically face and examples of how we address them:
- Building owner/clients frequently find themselves overwhelmed with the ongoing maintenance and operations difficulties inherent in their 1960s and ’70s Brutalist buildings. Ironically, in New England, where we do most of our work, concrete has not proven to be durable, and the physical erosion of this material seems to further erode support for the building style itself. This was the case at Harvard University’s Peabody Terrace Apartments, where we carried out extensive concrete restoration efforts in 1995 to cover exposed reinforcing rods and to patch spalling (material fragments). The first stage of our work at the Boston University (BU) School of Law this summer (designed by Josep Lluis Sert) will be of a similar nature to prevent spalling concrete from falling to the ground.
Friday, June 22, 2012 8:00 am

Modernist buildings have been under attack in the U.S. for years now. We’re reminded of this fact every day as our team at Bruner/Cott & Associates works to keep an entire period of architecture from being lost in Boston, our hometown.

Holyoke Center, Harvard University (Josep Lluis Sert, completed 1961)
Photo by Bruner/Cott
News of the recent thwarted attempt—for the moment, at least—to demolish Paul Rudolph’s Brutalist masterwork, the Orange County Government Center in Goshen, New York, underscored for us the fact that important works of mid-twentieth century modern building design is, often, only one vote away from oblivion.
We consider ourselves pioneers in adaptive use and aficionados of modernism, so we understand the plusses and minuses of these buildings and how to turn them to current user advantage. Therefore, for us, this trend toward destruction is particularly painful to watch. For the past quarter of a century, we have worked to repair, enhance, and extend the use of this architecture, trying to, in our own way, stem the tide of threat. But the reasons for this tendency to destroy modernism are abundantly clear to us.

Peabody Terrace, Harvard University (Josep Lluis Sert, completed 1963),
view from campus, photo by Steve Rosenthal
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