The unfenced common coming right up to one’s doorstep, always gives a
charming sense of openness whether viewed from within or from without;
a sense in no way diminished by the contrast that occasional fenced
gardens or forecourts offer where the houses are set back somewhat.
All sorts of individual tastes and needs would afford opportunity for
obtaining variety: the one thing to be avoided at all costs would be
the producing of anything like a street of detached villas.
The common insatiable desire for detachment is very remarkable; it
appears to arise mainly from a resigned acceptance of the jerry
builder’s party wall as the inevitable one. Everyone suspects a party
wall, looks to hear through it his neighbour’s child in the dead of
night, or his piano on a Sunday afternoon. Guarantee a sound-proof
party wall, and few will be able to give any valid reason why there
should be from ten to fifty feet of useless ground between every two
houses. In a properly built house, one is really much less conscious
of one’s neighbour, and much less over-looked by him, if his house is
attached, than if it is a few yards away. Where it is desired, however,
many minor devices, such as a highly walled garden or a covered-in
yard, may be used with effect to increase the number of separate houses
without destroying the grouping.
Artistically, the success of the plan would depend largely on the
clustering of the buildings, the avoidance of mere rows on the one hand
and of detached villas on the other. But, in addition, some controlling
influence must maintain a certain degree of harmony. The use of local
materials as far as possible should be encouraged, and the introduction
of discordant colours or styles of building be prevented. The extremest
degree of simplicity should be allowed, but anything pretentious,
showy, or false, be rigidly excluded. Probably this general control
could be best secured by giving to some architect in full sympathy with
the scheme powers similar to those usually possessed by the agent of a
large ground landlord, though exercised in the latter case more often
to maintain the value of the property than its beauty.
The question of design in the individual building is one that cannot
be touched on here, though obviously a matter of vital importance to
the degree of beauty attainable; rather I seek to emphasize the great
advance which is possible to us by a right use of such taste and
designing ability as may be readily commanded to-day. So soon as the
desire for some collective beauty in our buildings has been stimulated,
the chief difficulty will have been overcome. If by some little
co-operation we can arouse interest and pride in the matter, time will
develop that collective appreciation of what is fitting, to which we
must look for final success.
[Sidenote: _See plates 36 and 38._]
Association for mutual help in various ways is undoubtedly the growing
influence which is destined to bring to communities that crystalline
structure which was so marked a feature of feudal society, and the lack
of which is so characteristic of our own. When our new settlements
begin to feel this influence they will again take on some of the unity
which comes from organic growth. And as this influence increases
in force, and interest and thought become more and more centred in
the communal institutions and buildings, so will these begin to
grow in beauty; for the people will wish to adorn them. The beauty
of the village and its public buildings will then become a first
consideration, and the pride of the inhabitants will be displayed in
these, not in the aggressive elaboration of their own houses.
There is the more hope of this because the practical advantages to be
derived from such co-operation as suggested, are so great and obvious
as to form just such a reliable basis of utility as is required for
the healthy growth of art. Without going fully into this side of the
question, a few of the more obvious directions in which co-operation
could help people of limited means, after they had associated for the
purpose of purchasing and developing their settlement, may be referred
to. The improvement and use of the land not required for building
purposes, by draining, planting of fruit trees, or the erection of
a suitable dairy, would be one of the first and most important of
these; this would secure a good supply of pure milk and fresh farm
produce, and at the same time allow the open ground to be enjoyed to
the full for recreative purposes. A laundry would be another enterprise
specially easy to organize on co-operative lines, and even in a village
too small to support a fully staffed laundry, it would make all the
difference if everyone could have the advantage of a well appointed
wash-house instead of having to use the ordinary inconvenient cramped
scullery with no proper appliances. In a community where several
business men daily journeyed to the town, a co-operative conveyance to
and from the station could be arranged in connection with the farm, as
could also the general carriage and cartage requirements. In providing
education for the young and recreation for all, association would be
invaluable; while it could easily be used as a means of buying, on
advantageous terms, in large quantities, commodities which cannot
economically be obtained in the country in small quantities, and of
securing many valuable services for all which would be out of the reach
of individuals.
It is of course not necessary that the first steps towards the
development of such a building scheme should be taken by the
prospective tenants. A landowner might well work on this line; he
would find in it a means of adding greatly to the value of estates
which might not be available for an ordinary building scheme. If he
would lay out a plot of land and offer to all comers a site of such
size as they wanted with sufficient open land between them and any
future buildings that might block their view secured by perpetual
guarantee, he would get plenty of applications even in positions that
are not the most favourable. He could also, by building some houses
of various sizes and carefully grouping them, give an example of the
sort of building he would encourage, which would soon be followed. By
retaining some control of plans for buildings to be carried out by
others on his land, he would be able to secure a general harmony and a
consistent development. He could too enlist the interest of his tenants
or purchasers in the growth of the colony, and foster among them
co-operative effort in that direction.
On the same lines, also, the state or municipal landlord might relieve
the over-crowding in towns by developing hamlets and villages in the
out-lying districts wherever they had, or could get, suitable land.
And even in the towns and immediately surrounding suburbs, much might
be done to remove the dreary ugliness of the streets by the use of
co-operation in building, and by the fostering of it in the occupants
of the houses. The arrangement would need to be different for a town or
suburb, where land would be costly, from that suggested for a village.
For just as the price of land in the centre of cities regulates to
a large extent the height to which it is profitable to carry up the
buildings, so on the outskirts it must determine the area of land
that can be allowed to each house. By co-operation it may be secured,
however, that all the land which can be afforded shall be available to
give air and outlook to all alike, while its actual occupation can be
reserved for those who really want a garden.
[Sidenote: _See plates 6 to 10, also 34 and 35._]
In the country we have seen how co-operation could give back to
us some of the picturesqueness of old villages. In the same way
it would add character and dignity to our towns, even to rows of
cottages. What more satisfactory town buildings could one desire
than some of the old colleges? Yet these consist primarily of rows
of small tenements grouped round quadrangles or gardens with certain
common rooms attached. The hall, the chapel, and the gatehouse, are
prominent features; while the cloisters, where such exist, affording
covered ways from the tenements to the common rooms, help to give a
sense of unity to the whole. Why should not cottages be grouped into
quadrangles, having all the available land in a square in the centre?
Some of the space so often wasted in a useless front parlour in each
cottage, could be used to form instead a Common Room, in which a
fire might always be burning in an evening, where comfort for social
intercourse, for reading, or writing, could always be found. Such a
room could be used also for music & general recreation, and might
add much colour to the lives of all those who frequented it. To this
Common Room could be added a laundry and drying-room fitted with a few
modern appliances which would not only reduce by half the labour and
time occupied in the weekly wash, but would take the bulky copper and
mangle out of each cottage, and relieve them all of the unpleasantness
of the steam and the encumbrance of the drying clothes. In connection
with this a bath-room could be arranged for groups of the smallest
cottages, while the growth of co-operation would soon bring the common
bakehouse and kitchen. From this to the preparation of meals and the
serving of them in the Common Room would be only a matter of time; for
the advantage of it is obvious. Instead of thirty or forty housewives
preparing thirty or forty little scrap dinners, heating a like number
of ovens, boiling thrice the number of pans & cleaning them all up
again, two or three of them retained as cooks by the little settlement
would do the whole, and could give better and cheaper meals into the
bargain.
It is not only to those who live in cottages that co-operation offers
advantages. From another class we hear much of the great servant
difficulty. Hotels, boarding houses, and hydropathics, are springing up
in every direction to accommodate those who are seeking to escape from
the worry of servants, the trouble and expense of jerry-built houses,
and the endless small anxieties that go to the running of a separate
establishment. But hotels and boarding houses do not really meet the
wants of this class. What they need is some arrangement by which they
could retain the privacy and individuality of a separate house, while
gaining the advantage, which they have in a boarding house, of properly
organized service and skilled cooking. These needs would be admirably
met by groups of houses arranged to give ready access to a communal
establishment, where meals would be supplied, laid either in the common
dining room or in the private house as desired; where the occasional
use of commodious rooms could be obtained for entertaining purposes;
and from whence properly trained effective helps could be sent out
daily, for as long or as short a time as might be required, to do all
the domestic work of the separate houses, or such part of it as the
occupants might prefer not to do themselves. Such an establishment
could readily be built and worked on co-operative lines, giving many of
the advantages of hotel life without entailing its disadvantages or its
costliness.
The planning of the Common Rooms would require much thought and care.
On this would depend greatly the success of the co-operative effort.
The usual small meeting-room, high, four-square, having a great deal
of tawdry decoration, but lacking anything whatever to give a sense of
comfort or to add a bit of interest, would be fatal. High the rooms
should be, in parts, sufficient to give air space and promote easy
ventilation. But there should be deep recesses or ingles with low
ceilings, places which by the contrast of their special cosiness should
attract people to sit there. If there could be a little gallery for the
musicians, a deep balcony overlooking the street or the gardens for
the smokers, these would prove great attractions for which everyone
would gladly dispense with the adornments usually thought necessary
for public rooms: though adornments of a more interesting character
there well might be, and undoubtedly would be, when people came to
appreciate their Common Rooms. As such co-operative quadrangles
multiplied, the necessary variety to suit different habits of life
would arise; for even those composed of houses of similar size would
become differentiated, somewhat as different colleges in a university
acquire a character for hard reading, for athletics, or for sport, and
each could choose according to his tastes. The essential thing from the
æsthetic point of view is that there shall be enough co-operation to
secure some grouping of buildings, some centralising influence on them.
How different our streets would look if instead of the rows upon rows
of dreary uninteresting cottages and hardly less dreary terraces of
larger houses, we could have blocks such as suggested. Some might be
adorned with a colonnade facing the street, and leading to the common
rooms at the corner; some might have a comely arched gateway into the
court as a special feature, through which, as one passed, a peep at
the quadrangle, tennis ground, or garden, would be obtained. There
need be nothing elaborate about such buildings. Quite simple cottages
or houses, with some variety of size to suit large and small families,
a little taste in proportioning doors, windows, and other details, a
little imagination in welding them into a complete whole--these would
suffice to change our dreary streets into something, the beauty and
interest of which would be a constant source of pleasure.
Architecture has always reflected the condition of the society in which
it flourished, being great in times of organisation, and deteriorating
in times of disintegration. Recently it has very clearly represented
the inordinate desire for individual independence. One sees terraces
of houses, each painted a different colour to try and emphasize their
independence. Or one may find the gable end of a porch which is common
to two villas, painted half a bright green to match one house, half a
chocolate red to accord with the other. These may be extreme instances,
but they are very typical of the length to which independence has
been carried. Society is, however, now realising very fast that
this independence is no end in itself, and is only good in that it
sets free the individuals to form new relationships based on mutual
association. This is already having its effect on architecture, in that
it is now not uncommon for the individual to make some effort to have
his buildings made beautiful for the public to look at, as well as
convenient for himself: the interest of the community in the matter is
so far acknowledged. Very soon it will seem equally obvious that the
relations of the separate buildings to each other should be considered,
and concerted effort be directed to the creation of streets with at
least some unity and dignity of effect, and settlements that, if they
may not have all the charm of the old English village, shall at any
rate look at home in their country surroundings.
RAYMOND UNWIN.
THE ART OF DESIGNING SMALL HOUSES AND COTTAGES.
By Barry Parker and Raymond Unwin.
A paper read by Mr. Unwin before an audience of Architects in January,
1901.
In the domestic branch of architecture, each commission presents to us
a fresh problem, full of human interest, the right solution of which
demands that we shall consider it from many points of view. We must
look upon the task primarily as the providing of a suitable setting for
the life of our client and his family. In this connection, not only his
actual wants but his ideals of life have to be taken thought of; nor
must we overlook our possible influence upon him through his house.
Again, each house appeals to us as a new creation of our art. We are in
much the same position as the portrait painter: the likeness, truly, is
that of the sitter, but the interpretation of it, the setting, and the
colour--in short, the art of the picture--belong to the painter. So,
too, the house as a habitation belongs to and must satisfy the client,
while as a work of art it belongs to and must satisfy its designer.
In this matter we stand as guardians, alike of our reputation and of
the general interest of the public as beholders of the building. The
right of the public to be considered is much clearer than many seem to
realize. No one who might add to the joy of life by building something
comely should add to its gloom by building what is ill-looking.
I do not anticipate that these considerations, or those to which we
shall presently come, are new to you. But it is probable that they
would appeal to each one in a different order of relative importance,
so that in no two of us would our attitude towards the problem be
exactly alike. In no house can every advantage be obtained; each must
be somewhat of a compromise; in each there must be a sacrificing of
what we deem less important to secure what we esteem of greater value.
It follows that the variety of our attitude must produce individuality
in the result. When, therefore, you did me the honour to suggest that
I should bring this subject before you, I felt that the best response
I could make would be to try to give you, as from one fellow-workman
to another, some account of the way in which we approach our domestic
work, hoping, that in comparing this, and the results which we shall
show, with other methods and results, you might find some little
interest.
Suppose then that we have received a commission for a dwelling house;
that we have made ourselves sufficiently acquainted with our new
client’s wishes, his mode of life, and habits, by getting him to
write to us very fully of everything he would like to be specially
considered, discussing points with him, or visiting his home, as
circumstances may suggest; and further, that we have made full notes of
all the instructions and information thus gathered for our own use;
the first thing is to visit the site and devote some time to thinking
out the problem on the spot.
The site is the most important factor to be considered, for it usually
suggests both the internal arrangement and the external treatment.
If the site is a large one the position of the house upon it must
first be determined. In past times the house was regarded mainly as a
shelter, and this greatly influenced the choice of its position. But
we do not to-day so much build shelters for people who live out of
doors, as dwellings whence they may occasionally go forth. A primary
consideration then must be, to so place the house as to afford its
occupants the greatest possible enjoyment of such beauty of adjacent
country or grandeur of distant view as the site can command. While
doing this, however, we must place and design the house in such a way
that it shall not stand out as a disturbing excrescence, but shall look
at home in its site, in harmony with its surroundings.
This consideration of the house as a detail in a larger picture will
bring us to a determination of its general form, its treatment and its
colouring. Some positions demand a lofty building, while others seem
to suggest that it be kept as low as possible. And in the country,
certainly, the low house is more successful, more in harmony with the
scenery; perhaps because it is suggestive more of man’s dependence upon
Nature, less of his defiance of her powers. In the choice of materials
and colouring, harmony rather than strong contrast should be sought.
There is only one sure way of obtaining this at all generally, which
is, of course, to keep to local materials and local ways of using them.
At any rate I think we may lay it down that strong reasons of use or
economy are needed to justify a departure from these. Where a departure
is made, let the contrast with what is usual in the district be as
slight as may be. We do not enough consider when we introduce for the
first time into some valley a bright red roof, how it will haunt the
eye from every point of view, and may go far towards marring the beauty
of the whole scene by destroying its restfulness. We should let the
surroundings which are to constitute the picture suggest the colouring
as well as the form of the new object we are about to introduce. Some
definite scheme suitable to the position should be adopted, and colours
of paint and any enrichments made to contribute to it.
Greatly as must the site influence the external treatment of the house,
its internal arrangement will be even more definitely dictated by it.
The position of each room in relation to the points of the compass
& the outlook should be determined on the spot. It is now pretty
generally realised that no sacrifice is too great which is necessary to
enable us to bring plenty of sunshine into all the main living rooms.
In the South of England perhaps some moderation must be observed in
applying this rule, there being no inconsiderable number of days on
which a too sunny room may become unbearably hot; and, where the size
of the house will allow of it, to have an east and west room is often
a great boon. But over the greater part of our country, certainly in
the Midlands and the North, the importance of arranging for the few
days when the sun is oppressive is small indeed compared with that of
planning to suit the many days when every hour of sunshine is of the
utmost value. The general rule, then, would seem to be, so to contrive
as to get the sunshine into a room at the time when it is most likely
to be occupied. Let a study or breakfast-room be east or south-east,
a general living-room or drawing-room south and south-west. A good
western window in the room we most occupy during the latter part of the
day, gives us many an extra hour of daylight; while the opportunity
it affords us of habitually seeing the bright colour of sunset is a
privilege which is worth some effort to obtain. A kitchen is best
north-east or east, for the first coming down into the fireless house
may well have its cheerlessness reduced for the servants by what
sunshine is to be had at an early hour; later in the day, when the
kitchen is hot with cooking, the heat of the sun should not be added.
A bath-room and bedrooms, too, are pleasant with an eastern aspect,
though some cannot sleep in a room into which early sunshine can come.
Next only in importance to such considerations of aspect, and certainly
important enough to modify them somewhat, is the question of prospect;
for a pleasant outlook is a boon only less great than a sunny aspect.
We must not ignore a fine view even when it can only be had to the
north, and much less must we allow any trivial conventions, like the
old commonly accepted idea that the front of the house should be to the
road, to betray us into sacrificing such solid advantages as sunshine
and a pleasant view. In fact, to produce a good plan, one should go to
the site without any preconceived conventions, but with a quite open
mind, prepared to think out each fresh problem on the spot from the
beginning, and to receive all the suggestions the site can offer. I
hope you will pardon me if I seem to insist unduly on the importance
of so elementary a principle as that of building to suit each site.
But one sees the principle so commonly disregarded that it is needful
to emphasize it. Not only do we find houses perched uncomfortably on
the shoulder of a hill, or thrust into prominence one way or another
regardless of their effect on their surroundings; but, in arrangement,
the disregard of the site is carried so far that semi-detached houses
are even built with their plans just reversed, so that a plan designed
for the north end is made to serve for the south, or one arranged
to suit the east side allowed to pass for the west. Before leaving
the site one should be able to carry away not only detailed notes of
drainage, water supply, levels, fine trees, views and aspects, but also
a general idea as to the best arrangement of the rooms of the new
house, an ideal plan to be aimed at, and a sort of mental sketch in
block of the general form the new creation should take externally.