This article was originally published on Common Edge.
Traditional architecture is perceived as being historical architecture, both by the general public and by design professionals. Put another way, “traditional” = “style.” There’s no awareness of the process of tradition that creates what’s later considered a style. Modernism takes this perception one step further and frames traditional architecture as “not of our time,” and therefore obsolete.
If it’s obsolete, then there’s nothing to learn from it, so there’s nothing left to do but put it in the dustbin of history. The modernists aren’t entirely wrong about historical styles of architecture; many of the ones found in history books were the products of long-dead traditions. A historical marker about architecture is often the equivalent of a headstone for a dead tradition.
Traditions Revived and New
Unlike humans, traditions can be revived after being long-dead. On the left is the revived Territorial style at Carlton Landing, Oklahoma; on the right is a Clay Chapman house that is part of a vibrant and highly creative new tradition that’s learning continuously. Traditions of one generation are often, but not always, rejected by the next as it seeks to establish its own identities. But even if they’re lost, they can be revived as early as the third generation, when memories of things loved by grandparents often resonate. When a tradition revives and becomes a true living tradition, it takes on a life of its own. Carlton Landing’s revival of the Territorial isn’t your grandfather’s Territorial, because all living things change. If it’s just a copy and there’s no change, then it’s not living. The new living tradition at Carlton Landing pioneered by Clay is not a direct descendant of any historical style. Instead, it’s the result of many great insights by a highly talented artist whose palette of materials are thick load-bearing masonry walls and timber.
Achieving Timelessness
A particularly vigorous tradition can carry on, uninterrupted, from its founding era long into the future. Or revived traditions can leap into the future because of their resonance. In either case, when a tradition is no longer tied to its founders or their era, it should be considered timeless because it has slipped temporal bonds to unite past and future generations. Traditions that take on a life of their own again long after the founders are gone may be separated by centuries, but they are joined by the common language of patterns by which they are defined. The opposite of timeless is time-locked. The worst albatross hung around the neck of modern architecture was the Necessity of Uniqueness, which forever bound patterns to their time of origin. And “of its time” = most quickly “out of date” tomorrow. Its “tradition” is dead on arrival.
The Search Begins
My search for the key to unlocking the mystery of living traditions began on the day after Thanksgiving 1980 in Mooresville, Alabama, a village of only nine square blocks founded in 1818. I was in my third year of architecture school at the time and amazed at how farmers and tradespeople built a better town than all the experts since the end of World War II. What was even more amazing was how they handed down a wisdom so great it allowed regular folk to build better than experts in 1945–1980 to the next generation with no written record—a question I couldn’t begin to answer. But I took the mystery home with me, gave it a place to live in my mind, and fed and watered it with curiosity, hoping someday to be able to find the answer.
Twenty-four years later, Milton Grenfell said the fateful words that unlocked the mystery when answering a question about bell-cast eaves in the region that kick out at the bottom. He opened with “We do this because …,” and I realized that opening the rationale of each pattern in a language of architecture allows many minds to think, not just the architects, making it an architecture of the people, by the people, and for the people.
Living Tradition Processes
Living traditions are the operating system of the Original Green, which kept humans alive until the Thermostat Age. Their four processes: collaborative professionals, crowd-sourced innovation, responsibility and exploration, and an upward trajectory. I co-founded the Urban Guild in 2001. From the beginning, we looked for people with enough humility to happily build on the wisdom of others, enough creativity to advance the art, and enough generosity to share the resulting body of knowledge. If the U.S. population were spread equally across the country, architects would occupy an area about the size of Miami-Dade County. Living traditions open up the rationale of each pattern, getting far more minds at work by crowdsourcing. We do this because …
Some designers are always responsible, repeating useful stuff. But endless repetition is an indicator of a dead tradition, because nothing changes. Other designers are always exploring, working hard to figure out new useful stuff. But endless exploration is an anti-tradition because it never stops to build on useful stuff figured out earlier. Living traditions balance repetition as well as exploration. They repeat known useful stuff and figure out new useful stuff. A living tradition always reserves the right to get better and smarter. It never gets stuck in the past, because the ultimate goal is building places people love better tomorrow than we do today, which requires innovation.
Modern and Traditional
There are two general types of innovation: that which is novelty-based and that which is principle-based. Novelty-based innovation celebrates the brilliance of the innovator; principle-based innovation celebrates building places people love. Truly living traditions are part of a continuum of things long proven to work. At the same time, they embody high levels of principle-based innovation. Connecting past to future. Alys Beach championed advancing their living tradition process from the beginning. Opening up the rationale of each pattern of architecture as living traditions do gets many minds at work, producing highly modern (little-m) work, and being the products of living traditions, the work is both highly modern and highly traditional. What else does that?
Rose Town
Living traditions can take unexpected turns. Rose Town is a neighborhood in Kingston, Jamaica, that was hungry and poor; many residents didn’t even have a roof over their head, just metal barricades as boundaries. I worked on two King’s Foundation charrettes hoping to help the place recover. Rose Town infrastructure was totally makeshift. Want power? Throw a couple wires with coat hooks over power lines and bring to your light bulb. Plumbing? Use an open latrine because there was only a handful of toilets in the entire neighborhood, and they rarely worked.
The Proverb Code
My job was to do the architectural code. Walking around, I noticed many writings on walls that take the form of proverbs: simple, sticky statements on living in better ways. So why not do a proverb code? Each pattern had a name, icon, and instructions on what to do. But upon completion, I realized that in a place with open latrines, there’s no doubt what would happen to a paper code in just a few days! I’m from the Deep South and know exactly what happened to Sears catalogs in outhouses. So I decided to do what the people do: paint the proverbs on the walls. One team member had a good hand at painting and got the last proverb in the code on the wall, even though it rained and the paint ran.
Making It Their Own
When the final presentation was over, a young architect grabbed my elbow and said, “You must see this.” “See what?” “Just follow me.” He led me out into the night air, where I heard children singing. They were taking those words, which were never intended to have rhythm or rhyme, and turning them into a song! We can’t make this happen; the best we can do is to set the stage where it’s more likely to happen. But this is what every living tradition should hope to do: facilitate extreme ownership like this, especially from the youngest members of the community, who may carry it the furthest forward.
Tipping Toward Life
When working to facilitate a new living tradition, don’t think of the role as that of the heroic designer, but rather as that of finding things that can take on a life of their own and spread, both geographically and through time. This image is iconic of the task. One side of these hills is teeming with life; the other side is nearly barren. Our mission should be to first of all find patterns more likely to be embraced by the people of a region, then do all we can to change conditions that tip the balance to the point that they hopefully take on a life of their own.
