Editorial
Articles
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Frederik Hendriklaan 22, a townhouse in The Hague’s Statenkwartier or States Quarter, was built around 1900. The house has a floor area of approximately 300 m2. In the initial phase it was probably inhabited by a family, possibly three generations and staff. Shortly before my parents bought the house the ground floor was used by a physiotherapy practice. When we moved in, the treatment and waiting rooms were changed back into a living room en suite with the kitchen in the narrow nave. On the first floor a small room and the bathroom occupied the narrow section, with a large room to front and rear in the wide section. The upper floor consisted of several small rooms.
In the 1980s two couples lived there. As recent graduates they were not yet in a position to finance such a large house independently, so decided to purchase the house together. Two kitchens were installed in the en suite rooms, one on the ground floor and one on the first floor. The kitchen on the ground floor was converted into a bedroom; the bathroom was moved into an extension in the garden. A compact bedroom and bathroom were realized on the first floor as well. This gave both couples an autonomous residential unit. After a few years there were so many offspring that the house became too small. One family moved to a house around the corner; the other stayed put. The kitchen on the first floor was removed.
A townhouse, from student housing to single-family dwelling. From the outside there has been little change to the house’s appearance, except for the addition of two attic windows; internally, it has undergone substantial alterations.
Frederik Hendriklaan 22, a townhouse in The Hague’s Statenkwartier or States Quarter, was built around 1900. The house has a floor area of approximately 300 m2. In the initial phase it was probably inhabited by a family, possibly three generations and staff. Shortly before my parents bought the house the ground floor was used by a physiotherapy practice. When we moved in, the treatment and waiting rooms were changed back into a living room en suite with the kitchen in the narrow nave. On the first floor a small room and the bathroom occupied the narrow section, with a large room to front and rear in the wide section. The upper floor consisted of several small rooms.
In the 1980s two couples lived there. As recent graduates they were not yet in a position to finance such a large house independently, so decided to purchase the house together. Two kitchens were installed in the en suite rooms, one on the ground floor and one on the first floor. The kitchen on the ground...
Frederik Hendriklaan 22, a townhouse in The Hague’s Statenkwartier or States Quarter, was built around 1900. The house has a floor area of approximately 300 m2. In the initial phase it was probably inhabited by a family, possibly three generations and staff. Shortly before my parents bought...
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Among the many forms of architectural and urban transformations of the existing city, the rethinking of modern mass housing built throughout Europe after the Second World War has become a crucial topic in the contemporary debate. Over the last 20 years, we have seen numerous projects focused on redesigning such spaces to accommodate current needs and lifestyles, in terms of spatial, functional and aesthetic endowment, as well as environmental requirements. These numerous and widespread experiments have also been encouraged at the EU level: first, with the URBAN Initiatives (1994), later with the Leipzig Charter on Sustainable European Cities (2007) and with the Toledo Declaration (2010), intended to promote common objectives for rethinking the city’s urban and environmental qualities – starting from its housing spaces. The urgency of action has recently been reaffirmed by UN-Habitat through the ‘Urban Revitalization of Mass Housing’ competition (2013), launched as part of the Global Housing Strategy. Often, buildings have prematurely deteriorated as a result of using new experimental construction techniques based on reinforced concrete and prefabricated structures. Moreover, typological uniformity and resistance to variation limit the capacity of buildings to adapt over time, this translates also into aesthetic seriality – today seen as excessive homogenization. Also, considering the urban scale: (1) functional zoning quickly revealed its limitations, (2) the dilation and fluidity of open spaces have often proven to be incapable of stimulating density of relationships, (3) the monumental scale of architecture has repeatedly created uncomfortable environments, and (4) the poor relations with the surrounding context have strengthened the sense of marginalization. In the end, this extreme schematicism – combined with seriality and absence of distinct architectural accent – today offers a great potential for transformation. It provides designers with a fairly generic basis capable of embodying new architectural inputs, with the aim of rethinking spatial qualities of what has been inherited from the past. These experiments now underway generally seek to achieve a greater mixité (social, functional, typological, etcetera) with more variable uses of public and private spaces, a higher degree of urban complexity, an appropriate relationship between different scales and an effective articulation of open spaces. By combining more radical or measured changes in each case, a creative process can be developed giving a new character to the buildings and existing urban landscape.
Among the many forms of architectural and urban transformations of the existing city, the rethinking of modern mass housing built throughout Europe after the Second World War has become a crucial topic in the contemporary debate. Over the last 20 years, we have seen numerous projects focused on redesigning such spaces to accommodate current needs and lifestyles, in terms of spatial, functional and aesthetic endowment, as well as environmental requirements. These numerous and widespread experiments have also been encouraged at the EU level: first, with the URBAN Initiatives (1994), later with the Leipzig Charter on Sustainable European Cities (2007) and with the Toledo Declaration (2010), intended to promote common objectives for rethinking the city’s urban and environmental qualities – starting from its housing spaces. The urgency of action has recently been reaffirmed by UN-Habitat through the ‘Urban Revitalization of Mass Housing’ competition (2013), launched as part of...
Among the many forms of architectural and urban transformations of the existing city, the rethinking of modern mass housing built throughout Europe after the Second World War has become a crucial topic in the contemporary debate. Over the last 20 years, we have seen numerous projects focused...
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Jaap Bakema’s work and position were marked by an unshakeable belief in society’s engineerability. In his many lectures and publications he also noted a number of reservations about decision-making processes and life itself as the greater reality outside architecture’s; his optimism nevertheless seemed to know no bounds. Not only when he formulated answers to the questions of the housing shortage and the major planning issues of his own era, but also when he explained his vision of a possible future beyond the year 2000, in the twenty-first century. When Bakema wrote down his ideas for the presentation of the Netherlands at the World Expo in Osaka in 1970, he unreservedly stated about his own small country bordering the North Sea: ‘A country is planning its own change’, after which a series of catchwords painted an image picture of a hypermodern country that fearlessly embraces the future, even moulds it to its will, from water management to energy policy, from knowledge economy to open society. Visual elements in Bakema’s narrative were ‘the water, the skies, the light’ and ‘grass, corn, flowers and houses’, such as these were to be found in the work of Rembrandt, Mondrian, Van Gogh and even Provo.
Bakema jotted down everything this on a single sheet of paper, including the characteristic proposition: Wat we zijn en wat we graag zouden willen zijn! – ‘What we are and what we should like to be!’ The idea Bakema posited was that change is plannable. Planning the future and creating room for future developments was one of the key issues in his work. But how did that turn out in his work for large-scale residential development projects, all realized in the context of the post-war welfare state? A major of contention with that welfare state and its bureaucracy was the lack of free space, that everything was hemmed in by rules in advance. If you read the articles of that time, one encounters a mishmash of well-nigh endless discussions about all manner of regulations to maintain as much control as possible over future developments. In particular, the most efficient deployment of scarce resources was a thorny issue in the new egalitarian society, and how to translate this economy into rapidly buildable standard floor plans that would still allow some flexibility in use and a very modest form of comfort.
Jaap Bakema’s work and position were marked by an unshakeable belief in society’s engineerability. In his many lectures and publications he also noted a number of reservations about decision-making processes and life itself as the greater reality outside architecture’s; his optimism nevertheless seemed to know no bounds. Not only when he formulated answers to the questions of the housing shortage and the major planning issues of his own era, but also when he explained his vision of a possible future beyond the year 2000, in the twenty-first century. When Bakema wrote down his ideas for the presentation of the Netherlands at the World Expo in Osaka in 1970, he unreservedly stated about his own small country bordering the North Sea: ‘A country is planning its own change’, after which a series of catchwords painted an image picture of a hypermodern country that fearlessly embraces the future, even moulds it to its will, from water management to energy policy, from...
Jaap Bakema’s work and position were marked by an unshakeable belief in society’s engineerability. In his many lectures and publications he also noted a number of reservations about decision-making processes and life itself as the greater reality outside architecture’s; his optimism...
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In the Netherlands there are few people who build their own homes. The majority of the population lives in a house that was built in the past. Designed and made with different ideas, for families with different wishes and habits to ours. The adaptation of homes for current times is therefore normal and necessary, and is a continuous process. In his book How to Make a Home, Edward Hollis compares the way in which people occupy a house with a cuckoo’s habits.1 This bird has made a speciality of taking possession of another bird’s nest and adapting it to its own needs. People alter, decorate and furnish in order to turn the house they encounter into a personal little nest.
However, other rules apply when this concerns a special ‘nest’. If a dwelling or residential building is listed as a monument, it is protected in the public interest because of its cultural-historical value. A home with a monumental status cannot simply be altered to meet contemporary residential preferences without further ado; the building (or sections of it) are ‘frozen’ in the past. This seems to be incompatible with the human desire to modify and appropriate a home. Does protected status stand in the way of habitation?
In the Netherlands there are few people who build their own homes. The majority of the population lives in a house that was built in the past. Designed and made with different ideas, for families with different wishes and habits to ours. The adaptation of homes for current times is therefore normal and necessary, and is a continuous process. In his book How to Make a Home, Edward Hollis compares the way in which people occupy a house with a cuckoo’s habits.1 This bird has made a speciality of taking possession of another bird’s nest and adapting it to its own needs. People alter, decorate and furnish in order to turn the house they encounter into a personal little nest.
However, other rules apply when this concerns a special ‘nest’. If a dwelling or residential building is listed as a monument, it is protected in the public interest because of its cultural-historical value. A home with a monumental status cannot simply be altered to meet contemporary residential...
In the Netherlands there are few people who build their own homes. The majority of the population lives in a house that was built in the past. Designed and made with different ideas, for families with different wishes and habits to ours. The adaptation of homes for current times is therefore...
Interviews
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In the 1970s and 1980s it was usual to demolish outdated nineteenth-century blocks of housing completely and replace them with new-build, certainly in the social sector. The results of this operation are still clearly evident in every major Dutch city. That approach is at odds with a development that has increasingly taken shape over the last decade: the drastic renovation of existing residential buildings and housing blocks to guarantee a suitable fit as well as appeal to new target groups. This new approach couples preservation of existing architectural qualities with the ambition to respond to the desire for increasingly individualized homes. Not individual in the sense of separate or detached, but individual in the sense of meeting someone’s unique wishes. The magic word in this market is freedom. Freedom in size, configuration and materials. In brief, the freedom to optimally determine what you are investing in as a buyer. As an operator in this market, developer and building contractor ERA Contour has devised the ‘Een Blok Stad’ concept. This concept eradicates the risks that are associated with self-build or Collective Private Commissioning (CPC, known in Dutch as Collectief Particulier Opdrachtgeverschap), but allows for each dwelling to always be the outcome of individual choices. In order to fathom out the questions to which this concept provides an answer, it is useful to think about the genesis of the idea behind Een Blok Stad – One Block of City.
In the 1970s and 1980s it was usual to demolish outdated nineteenth-century blocks of housing completely and replace them with new-build, certainly in the social sector. The results of this operation are still clearly evident in every major Dutch city. That approach is at odds with a development that has increasingly taken shape over the last decade: the drastic renovation of existing residential buildings and housing blocks to guarantee a suitable fit as well as appeal to new target groups. This new approach couples preservation of existing architectural qualities with the ambition to respond to the desire for increasingly individualized homes. Not individual in the sense of separate or detached, but individual in the sense of meeting someone’s unique wishes. The magic word in this market is freedom. Freedom in size, configuration and materials. In brief, the freedom to optimally determine what you are investing in as a buyer. As an operator in this market, developer and...
In the 1970s and 1980s it was usual to demolish outdated nineteenth-century blocks of housing completely and replace them with new-build, certainly in the social sector. The results of this operation are still clearly evident in every major Dutch city. That approach is at odds with a...
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Not so very long ago, renovation or wholesale maintenance of post-war housing was not an activity you could use to distinguish yourself as an architect. After all, the task was primarily technical in nature. There was no honour to be gained as an architect unless it involved a residential building by a famous architect like Rietveld, Van Tijen or Brinkman en Van der Vlugt, or so it seemed.
That situation has thoroughly changed. Nowadays there are even architecture prizes to be won for transformations of apparently generic architecture of the post-war reconstruction era. Or, as the jury of the Amsterdam Architecture Prize 2015 worded it: ‘The Klussen aan de Klarenstraat project represents the current period . . . an example for the disposition of residents, architects, corporations and financiers.’ The jury’s selection of this project sends a clear signal. The sphere of activity of architects is widening. Architects are not only working on what is new; they are also focusing on the question of how to facilitate a new use of the existing. It is this question that intrigues the Vanschagen architecture firm. With the existing city as its most important field of work, this office has developed into one of the specialists in the field of repurposing. The project ‘Klussen aan de Klarenstraat’ – which you might translate as ‘Doing up Klarenstraat’ – demonstrates that it is possible to transform an unpopular building typology in a difficult location into popular. Reason enough to speak to them about what the architect’s role is (or could be) when considering radical forms of reuse for existing structures.
Not so very long ago, renovation or wholesale maintenance of post-war housing was not an activity you could use to distinguish yourself as an architect. After all, the task was primarily technical in nature. There was no honour to be gained as an architect unless it involved a residential building by a famous architect like Rietveld, Van Tijen or Brinkman en Van der Vlugt, or so it seemed.
That situation has thoroughly changed. Nowadays there are even architecture prizes to be won for transformations of apparently generic architecture of the post-war reconstruction era. Or, as the jury of the Amsterdam Architecture Prize 2015 worded it: ‘The Klussen aan de Klarenstraat project represents the current period . . . an example for the disposition of residents, architects, corporations and financiers.’ The jury’s selection of this project sends a clear signal. The sphere of activity of architects is widening. Architects are not only working on what is new; they are also...
Not so very long ago, renovation or wholesale maintenance of post-war housing was not an activity you could use to distinguish yourself as an architect. After all, the task was primarily technical in nature. There was no honour to be gained as an architect unless it involved a residential...
Case Studies
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Traditionally, architecture is not only about the production of new buildings, but also about the adaptation of existing ones. Consulting the history of architecture teaches us that there are countless fantastic examples of buildings that have been radically transformed over time, for example Roman theatres and stadiums that were transformed into squares and residential complexes or, more recently, industrial or religious heritage that acquired a new, residential destination. The transformation of buildings originally designed for habitation is a very special task.
The ten projects documented in this DASH show that the transformation of dwellings into dwellings is a topical phenomenon, but not a new one. Against the background of a wide range of projects from different periods that involve different forms of habitation, this issue presents a rich variety of design options and solutions. The projects are arranged by the years of their documented transformations.
Traditionally, architecture is not only about the production of new buildings, but also about the adaptation of existing ones. Consulting the history of architecture teaches us that there are countless fantastic examples of buildings that have been radically transformed over time, for example Roman theatres and stadiums that were transformed into squares and residential complexes or, more recently, industrial or religious heritage that acquired a new, residential destination. The transformation of buildings originally designed for habitation is a very special task.
The ten projects documented in this DASH show that the transformation of dwellings into dwellings is a topical phenomenon, but not a new one. Against the background of a wide range of projects from different periods that involve different forms of habitation, this issue presents a rich variety of design options and solutions. The projects are arranged by the years of their documented transformations.
Traditionally, architecture is not only about the production of new buildings, but also about the adaptation of existing ones. Consulting the history of architecture teaches us that there are countless fantastic examples of buildings that have been radically transformed over time, for example...
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In the year 305, Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletian stood down as the emperor of the Roman Empire of his own free will – unheard of in ancient times – to retire to his recently completed residence on the Adriatic coast, near the fishing village of Asphalatos in present-day Croatia. During his 20-year reign, he implemented some major strategic innovations including economic and military reorganizations and the separation of the Roman Empire into a western and an eastern part, with two equivalent emperors (Augusti) and two successors (Caesars) sharing power: the so-called tetrarchy. From his byzantine capital Nicomedia (currently Izmit in Turkey) he had been overseeing the construction of his palace: strategically located between the two empires, protected by a mountain range and an ocean, and not far from his presumptive place of birth Salona.
One of the so-called Illyrian emperors, Diocletian had not been appointed emperor by the Roman senate but, following the death of his predecessor in 284, unanimously elected by the Eastern Armies he as commander of the protectores domestici led into triumph during the Persian war. In the palace he built from 295 to 305 for the years after his announced resignation, the bonds between the emperor and his soldiers are expressed by the unusual combination of luxurious residence and army camp.
In the year 305, Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletian stood down as the emperor of the Roman Empire of his own free will – unheard of in ancient times – to retire to his recently completed residence on the Adriatic coast, near the fishing village of Asphalatos in present-day Croatia. During his 20-year reign, he implemented some major strategic innovations including economic and military reorganizations and the separation of the Roman Empire into a western and an eastern part, with two equivalent emperors (Augusti) and two successors (Caesars) sharing power: the so-called tetrarchy. From his byzantine capital Nicomedia (currently Izmit in Turkey) he had been overseeing the construction of his palace: strategically located between the two empires, protected by a mountain range and an ocean, and not far from his presumptive place of birth Salona.
One of the so-called Illyrian emperors, Diocletian had not been appointed emperor by the Roman senate but, following the death...
In the year 305, Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletian stood down as the emperor of the Roman Empire of his own free will – unheard of in ancient times – to retire to his recently completed residence on the Adriatic coast, near the fishing village of Asphalatos in present-day Croatia. During...
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Entering the sheltered Proveniershof via the Aspoort on a beautiful summer’s day, one is likely to find residents sitting outside their homes or having a picnic on the grass of the communal courtyard. In the winter it is quiet and empty. The buildings look anything but streamlined: alignments and right angles are crooked, the widths of the dwellings differ. But the whole is united by the brickwork façades, the uninterrupted row of gabled roofs, the rhythm of the wooden doors and window frames and the communal garden. The inner angles arouse curiosity: the terraces and entrances seem to be built directly against other façades in complete disregard of the monumental pilasters and blind niches that are part of an older, classicist façade composition. This speaks of a long history.
The Proveniershof started out as the St Michaël convent, founded in 1414, home to high-born women. In 1592, after the Reformation, the complex was used as a drill-ground for riflemen, the new or St Joris Doelen. The club spaces built in the north-eastern corner for this purpose had representative Renaissance façades and a large hall. The buildings along the edges were oriented towards the city and did not belong to the guardsmen. In 1681, on the initiative of the city council, the complex was converted into a gentleman’s club, a place to accommodate eminent guests of the city including their entourages, carriages and horses. This proved to be unprofitable and in 1706 the complex was once more given a residential destination as a ‘Proveniershuis’: a type of housing that elderly people could buy into for a fixed amount depending on their age and circumstances and where they subsequently enjoyed board and lodging for the rest of their lives.
Entering the sheltered Proveniershof via the Aspoort on a beautiful summer’s day, one is likely to find residents sitting outside their homes or having a picnic on the grass of the communal courtyard. In the winter it is quiet and empty. The buildings look anything but streamlined: alignments and right angles are crooked, the widths of the dwellings differ. But the whole is united by the brickwork façades, the uninterrupted row of gabled roofs, the rhythm of the wooden doors and window frames and the communal garden. The inner angles arouse curiosity: the terraces and entrances seem to be built directly against other façades in complete disregard of the monumental pilasters and blind niches that are part of an older, classicist façade composition. This speaks of a long history.
The Proveniershof started out as the St Michaël convent, founded in 1414, home to high-born women. In 1592, after the Reformation, the complex was used as a drill-ground for riflemen, the new...
Entering the sheltered Proveniershof via the Aspoort on a beautiful summer’s day, one is likely to find residents sitting outside their homes or having a picnic on the grass of the communal courtyard. In the winter it is quiet and empty. The buildings look anything but streamlined:...
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Since the radical renovation of the eighteenth-century Melbourne house on Piccadilly (London) into flats for single gentlemen in 1802, the complex, renamed Albany, has had a special reputation. It is an exclusive, desirable and, at the same time, somewhat infamous enclave in the heart of London, with a long list of famous inhabitants from the world of politics and culture.
Melbourne House was designed and built by William Chambers for Lord Melbourne from 1771 to 1775. Owing to financial problems, the owner sold the house to the Duke of York in 1792, who in turn had to do the same in 1800. Couts, the banker that granted the mortgage on the house, went looking for a new, more profitable venture with builder and developer Copland. After earlier plans to build a new cross street with mansions on the building lot between Piccadilly and Vigo Street, or to redevelop the existing house to serve as a hotel, a plan was made with architect Henry Holland to realize an apartment complex.
Since the radical renovation of the eighteenth-century Melbourne house on Piccadilly (London) into flats for single gentlemen in 1802, the complex, renamed Albany, has had a special reputation. It is an exclusive, desirable and, at the same time, somewhat infamous enclave in the heart of London, with a long list of famous inhabitants from the world of politics and culture.
Melbourne House was designed and built by William Chambers for Lord Melbourne from 1771 to 1775. Owing to financial problems, the owner sold the house to the Duke of York in 1792, who in turn had to do the same in 1800. Couts, the banker that granted the mortgage on the house, went looking for a new, more profitable venture with builder and developer Copland. After earlier plans to build a new cross street with mansions on the building lot between Piccadilly and Vigo Street, or to redevelop the existing house to serve as a hotel, a plan was made with architect Henry Holland to realize an apartment...
Since the radical renovation of the eighteenth-century Melbourne house on Piccadilly (London) into flats for single gentlemen in 1802, the complex, renamed Albany, has had a special reputation. It is an exclusive, desirable and, at the same time, somewhat infamous enclave in the heart of...
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As you walk along Corso XXII Marzo, coming from the Madonnina that overlooks Milan, the regular rhythm of the quiet late nineteenth-century façades is suddenly interrupted. A brutalist concrete corner, adjacent to a prototypical building block in the urban plan of Cesare Beruto, lets you glimpse through it into a courtyard. On entering this space, something remarkable happens: you are suddenly teleported from a nineteenth-century perimeter block into what seems to be a long U-shaped 1970s housing project.
In 1982, the municipality of Milan instructed a group of architects led by Gianni Celada to redesign one of the few – partly decrepit – social housing bastions located in a rapidly gentrifying area. Celada, who had studied with Ernesto Rogers, suggested developing the project along two lines: urban continuity and typological research.
As you walk along Corso XXII Marzo, coming from the Madonnina that overlooks Milan, the regular rhythm of the quiet late nineteenth-century façades is suddenly interrupted. A brutalist concrete corner, adjacent to a prototypical building block in the urban plan of Cesare Beruto, lets you glimpse through it into a courtyard. On entering this space, something remarkable happens: you are suddenly teleported from a nineteenth-century perimeter block into what seems to be a long U-shaped 1970s housing project.
In 1982, the municipality of Milan instructed a group of architects led by Gianni Celada to redesign one of the few – partly decrepit – social housing bastions located in a rapidly gentrifying area. Celada, who had studied with Ernesto Rogers, suggested developing the project along two lines: urban continuity and typological research.
As you walk along Corso XXII Marzo, coming from the Madonnina that overlooks Milan, the regular rhythm of the quiet late nineteenth-century façades is suddenly interrupted. A brutalist concrete corner, adjacent to a prototypical building block in the urban plan of Cesare Beruto, lets you...
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With the official division of the former minor seminary Hageveld in Heemstede into a front and rear section in 2001, a period of living and learning under a shared roof came to a definitive end. The rear section, consisting of two parallel building strips with a central chapel, a schoolyard, sports fields and part of the park, remains in the possession of the now secular Atheneum College Hageveld. For the conversion of the front section, where the regents, priests, nuns, sisters and other in-house staff lived for three quarters of a century, developer Hopman Interheem wrote out a competition that was won by Design group MYJ (now architecture firm KBnG) in collaboration with Braaksma & Roos.
The original building was built in 1923, commissioned by the bishop of Haarlem, Mgr Augustinus Callier, who also commissioned the St Bavo cathedral in Haarlem. The minor seminary preceded the grand seminary in Warmond, and was for boys of about 12 years of age and up. In the century that Catholicism flourished in the Netherlands (from circa 1860 to 1960) and the former housing of Hageveld became too small, there was a search for an estate where the seminarians could be prepared for ‘an unworldly, heavenly, angelical life’ away from earthly distractions. This place was found on estate ’t Groot Clooster, named after a fifteenth-century Bernardine monastery known, until the Reformation, as Porta Coeli (‘heaven’s gate’).
With the official division of the former minor seminary Hageveld in Heemstede into a front and rear section in 2001, a period of living and learning under a shared roof came to a definitive end. The rear section, consisting of two parallel building strips with a central chapel, a schoolyard, sports fields and part of the park, remains in the possession of the now secular Atheneum College Hageveld. For the conversion of the front section, where the regents, priests, nuns, sisters and other in-house staff lived for three quarters of a century, developer Hopman Interheem wrote out a competition that was won by Design group MYJ (now architecture firm KBnG) in collaboration with Braaksma & Roos.
The original building was built in 1923, commissioned by the bishop of Haarlem, Mgr Augustinus Callier, who also commissioned the St Bavo cathedral in Haarlem. The minor seminary preceded the grand seminary in Warmond, and was for boys of about 12 years of age and up. In the...
With the official division of the former minor seminary Hageveld in Heemstede into a front and rear section in 2001, a period of living and learning under a shared roof came to a definitive end. The rear section, consisting of two parallel building strips with a central chapel, a schoolyard,...
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The idea behind the project Een Blok Stad (A Block of City) was conceived ten years ago when a nineteenth-century city block located between the Zwaerdecroonstraat and the Snellinckstraat that was owned by housing association Woonstad Rotterdam was nominated to be demolished. The residents of the block vehemently opposed the housing association’s new construction plans and succeeded in turning the tide. The buildings were in a poor state: there were severe foundation problems, fungi grew from floors and beams and there were even trees growing in the dwellings that had been unoccupied for some time. Because the low rental income the block generated made a thorough renovation financially unappealing, Woonstad Rotterdam decided to sell the block to developer and builder ERA Contour.
The block had 48 properties comprising 140 dwellings. The buildings each consisted of five layers, including a basement and an attic. Originally, each building consisted of a two-storey ground-floor dwelling, a single-storey dwelling in the middle and an attic dwelling that occupied half of the attic. The other half of the attic was used for storage.
The idea behind the project Een Blok Stad (A Block of City) was conceived ten years ago when a nineteenth-century city block located between the Zwaerdecroonstraat and the Snellinckstraat that was owned by housing association Woonstad Rotterdam was nominated to be demolished. The residents of the block vehemently opposed the housing association’s new construction plans and succeeded in turning the tide. The buildings were in a poor state: there were severe foundation problems, fungi grew from floors and beams and there were even trees growing in the dwellings that had been unoccupied for some time. Because the low rental income the block generated made a thorough renovation financially unappealing, Woonstad Rotterdam decided to sell the block to developer and builder ERA Contour.
The block had 48 properties comprising 140 dwellings. The buildings each consisted of five layers, including a basement and an attic. Originally, each building consisted of a two-storey...
The idea behind the project Een Blok Stad (A Block of City) was conceived ten years ago when a nineteenth-century city block located between the Zwaerdecroonstraat and the Snellinckstraat that was owned by housing association Woonstad Rotterdam was nominated to be demolished. The residents of...
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Not many housing types have become part of the architectural heritage of a country to the extent that the Amsterdam merchant’s house did in the Netherlands. The type is inextricably bound up with the famous Grachtengordel (Canal District) to which it owes its existence and of which it determines the character. At the same time, more than four centuries of occupation and renovation have demonstrated that the type, implemented uniquely in each separate dwelling, can absorb big changes in use and residential preferences without losing its appeal. The conversion of Herengracht 249 in 2010 is merely a recent example of the continued incremental transformation that has kept the Grachtengordel habitable since the beginning of the seventeenth century.
The creation of this western part of the district was part of the so-called Derde Uitleg (third expansion), the expansion plan for Amsterdam that comprised widening an already existing small canal behind the Singel into the Heeregracht and deepening Keizers- and Prinsengracht from Brouwersgracht to about the current Leidsegracht. The land between the canals was issued in deep, narrow plots to fit in as many dwellings as possible. Well-to-do citizens of Amsterdam had their homes built here, designed by architects such as Hendrick de Keyser, Jacob van Campen, Philippe Vingboons and many less-familiar names.
Not many housing types have become part of the architectural heritage of a country to the extent that the Amsterdam merchant’s house did in the Netherlands. The type is inextricably bound up with the famous Grachtengordel (Canal District) to which it owes its existence and of which it determines the character. At the same time, more than four centuries of occupation and renovation have demonstrated that the type, implemented uniquely in each separate dwelling, can absorb big changes in use and residential preferences without losing its appeal. The conversion of Herengracht 249 in 2010 is merely a recent example of the continued incremental transformation that has kept the Grachtengordel habitable since the beginning of the seventeenth century.
The creation of this western part of the district was part of the so-called Derde Uitleg (third expansion), the expansion plan for Amsterdam that comprised widening an already existing small canal behind the Singel into the...
Not many housing types have become part of the architectural heritage of a country to the extent that the Amsterdam merchant’s house did in the Netherlands. The type is inextricably bound up with the famous Grachtengordel (Canal District) to which it owes its existence and of which it...
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In 1922, a remarkable residential complex, the Justus van Effen block, is completed in the Rotterdam Spangen district. Its designer is architect Michiel Brinkman (1873-1925), a representative of both the artisan tradition of the nineteenth century and the modern era, who considers architecture a social challenge and is an adherent of rationalization and functionalism. The Justus van Effen complex epitomizes different architectural features. Striking are the subtle brick architecture, the logistic organization of the complex that originally comprised 264 dwellings, the layout of the dwellings, the design of the ground floor, the composition of the façades and the use of colour.
In 1922, a remarkable residential complex, the Justus van Effen block, is completed in the Rotterdam Spangen district. Its designer is architect Michiel Brinkman (1873-1925), a representative of both the artisan tradition of the nineteenth century and the modern era, who considers architecture a social challenge and is an adherent of rationalization and functionalism. The Justus van Effen complex epitomizes different architectural features. Striking are the subtle brick architecture, the logistic organization of the complex that originally comprised 264 dwellings, the layout of the dwellings, the design of the ground floor, the composition of the façades and the use of colour.
In 1922, a remarkable residential complex, the Justus van Effen block, is completed in the Rotterdam Spangen district. Its designer is architect Michiel Brinkman (1873-1925), a representative of both the artisan tradition of the nineteenth century and the modern era, who considers architecture...
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Many suburbs of former Eastern Bloc cities still look like concrete jungles, built during the decades of Soviet reign in which the post-war housing shortage was addressed on a large scale. There is no place with a higher concentration of these structures in the former Soviet Bloc than in both countries in the area formerly known as Czechoslovakia. The prefabricated residential blocks, locally known as paneláky – a word that means ‘panel houses’ in both Czech and Slovak – still, decades after the fall of the Iron Curtain, determine the DNA of the cities in many ways. This is also the case in Rimavská Sobota.
Now, with the arrival of the market economy, new ideas about architecture and urbanism are arising. The most obvious way to realize those new concepts seems to be the radical demolition of socialist residential blocks. From an economic and sustainable point of view, however, that solution is far from ideal. After all, from the perspective of sustainable urban development, it is much smarter to reuse existing buildings for as long as possible. gutgut architects design shows that this can also be an interesting architectural alternative.
Many suburbs of former Eastern Bloc cities still look like concrete jungles, built during the decades of Soviet reign in which the post-war housing shortage was addressed on a large scale. There is no place with a higher concentration of these structures in the former Soviet Bloc than in both countries in the area formerly known as Czechoslovakia. The prefabricated residential blocks, locally known as paneláky – a word that means ‘panel houses’ in both Czech and Slovak – still, decades after the fall of the Iron Curtain, determine the DNA of the cities in many ways. This is also the case in Rimavská Sobota.
Now, with the arrival of the market economy, new ideas about architecture and urbanism are arising. The most obvious way to realize those new concepts seems to be the radical demolition of socialist residential blocks. From an economic and sustainable point of view, however, that solution is far from ideal. After all, from the perspective of sustainable urban...
Many suburbs of former Eastern Bloc cities still look like concrete jungles, built during the decades of Soviet reign in which the post-war housing shortage was addressed on a large scale. There is no place with a higher concentration of these structures in the former Soviet Bloc than in both...
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The Dutch housing market contains several stubborn paradoxes. One of them is that only really ‘old’ and really ‘new’ dwellings are deemed acceptable; everything in between is a bit of a problem. As such, no one is surprised that thousands of euros are invested to actualize historical canal houses or to restore houses from the 1930s. But if those houses were built in the 1960s, 1970s or 1980s, that becomes a lot less self-evident. A different paradox is that, although everyone admits to having their own living requirements, the control residents have over their own home is still very minimal. The project Klussen aan de Klarenstraat (Klarenstraat DIY) in Amsterdam Nieuw-West shows that things might change. The project involves the transformation of a characteristic apartment building from the 1950s into sought-after city residences, without erasing the existing structure. In a process that took a little over two years, 30 families collaborated with architecture firm VanSchagen to renovate walk-up flats into residences of 45 to 200 m2.
The Dutch housing market contains several stubborn paradoxes. One of them is that only really ‘old’ and really ‘new’ dwellings are deemed acceptable; everything in between is a bit of a problem. As such, no one is surprised that thousands of euros are invested to actualize historical canal houses or to restore houses from the 1930s. But if those houses were built in the 1960s, 1970s or 1980s, that becomes a lot less self-evident. A different paradox is that, although everyone admits to having their own living requirements, the control residents have over their own home is still very minimal. The project Klussen aan de Klarenstraat (Klarenstraat DIY) in Amsterdam Nieuw-West shows that things might change. The project involves the transformation of a characteristic apartment building from the 1950s into sought-after city residences, without erasing the existing structure. In a process that took a little over two years, 30 families collaborated with architecture firm...
The Dutch housing market contains several stubborn paradoxes. One of them is that only really ‘old’ and really ‘new’ dwellings are deemed acceptable; everything in between is a bit of a problem. As such, no one is surprised that thousands of euros are invested to actualize historical...