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The Inventiveness of Tradition: Vernacular Architecture and the FutureAuthor(s): Marcel VellingaReviewed work(s):Source: Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture, Vol. 13, No. 2, Special 25th Anniversary Issue(2006/2007), pp. 115-128Published by: Vernacular Architecture ForumStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20355388 .Accessed: 23/02/2013 12:07

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The Inventiveness of Tradition: Vernacular Architecture and the Future

Marcel Vellinga

l?s, the installation [of a sumo champion wrestler at the impe rial Meiji shrine] as such only dates to 1911?the invention of a

tradition?but whence comes its meaning and its particularity? One

may as truly speak of the inventiveness of tradition. Modern sumo is

clearly a permutation of older forms and relationships, made appropriate to novel situations.1

The vernacular and the past

"There's something cosy about vernacular architec

ture," Paul Oliver wrote in his 1984 essay entitled "Round

the Houses"; "It's a sheltered retreat for many who fondle the

adze-marks, feel the fit of the ashlar or marvel at the assembly of post, wall-plate and tie-beam. Somehow," he continued,

"there's not the craftsmanship anymore; all that honest work

manship with simple tools and muscle?it's gone."2

More than twenty years after Oliver wrote these words

as somewhat of an aside in an article that mainly dealt with

the academic neglect of British suburban architecture, their

reference to the vernacular's associations with honesty, simplic

ity, craftsmanship, and, crucially, the past, still seems timely in

the context of a discussion on the possible future of the field

of vernacular architecture studies. At the beginning of the new millennium (a period of reflection and looking ahead in

many fields and disciplines), a tendency to withdraw into the

intuitively identified, spiritedly defended, yet in fact extremely diverse and therefore difficult to define category of vernacular

architecture is still common among many vernacular schol

ars?regardless of their disciplinary backgrounds or where

they work in the world. And, simultaneously, it may be said

that the category of the vernacular is commonly still defined in

terms of references to history, or tradition, or pre-modernity;

in other words, in reference to the past.

For example, as a quick scan of the literature reveals,

much of the work in the field of European vernacular archi

tecture is concerned with the detailed description, dating, and

classification of vernacular building forms, plans, materials

and technologies. The majority of these studies, if not all of

them, are historical, dating back to the seventeenth, eighteenth or nineteenth century (fig. 1). More recent or contemporary

buildings receive only limited attention, even if they have

Fig. 1. The Ley, a late sixteenth-century half-timbered house showing original color patterns; Weobley, Herefordshire, UK.

(2006 Photograph, Author)

Marcel Vellinga, The Inventiveness of Tradition 115


been built by the owners themselves or have been made for

"common," "ordinary" people. This situation is somewhat

different in North America, where the category of vernacular

architecture has generally been defined in broader terms, com

prising historical farmhouses and mills as well as more recent

bungalows, Sears Roebuck & Co. house kits, and tenement

blocks. Here, much attention is paid to the cultural context of

architecture and to the way in which buildings have developed over time, concomitant with social change. Nevertheless, much

of the North American discourse is still focused on the Anglo American past, looking at historical processes of change rather

than present-day developments.

In many cases, the interest of scholars of the European

and Anglo-American vernacular in a particular material, plan,

form, or technology, seems inspired by respect and often a

nostalgic longing for a time gone by?a pre-modern era in

which, as Oliver notes, craftsmanship is supposed to have ruled

sovereign, in which an "engagement" with the natural world

and other people was still present, and in which buildings were, as a result, more humane, simple, and durable. In such cases,

the vernacular becomes a prelapsarian category that is used as

a means to evade and to criticize contemporary architectural

practice, with all its associations (to some people, anyway) of individualism, commerce, monotony, and ecologically

unsustainable technology. Henry Glassie has argued that this

response to the vernacular is an essential feature of the modern

movement, famously shared by architects such as Philip Webb

and Le Corbsusier. "Different traditions," he notes, "permeate

into ideal types. One is individualistic, scientific, progressive and modern?ours. The other is a matter of harmonious or

desperate ecological adaptation; it is communal, spiritual,

stable and anachronistic?theirs."

Another strong motivation for the romantic tendency to

focus on "simple" historical or traditional buildings seems to be

the fact that many of the farmhouses, barns, mills, byres, and

log cabins that are somehow seen to represent the feeling of

community and traditional craftsmanship that we in Europe and North America now regard as having been lost, are rapidly

disappearing while new buildings that correspond to the old ones are no longer, or only rarely, being made. As a result,

many of those involved in the field of European and American

vernacular studies have worked long and hard to document

historical examples of unique building types, or are involved

in important projects to conserve or preserve such buildings

for posterity. Today, many others elsewhere in the world are

involved in similar activities and are indeed (and fortunately I should add) growing in number. For, as has been noted by Dell Upton, the supposition that the honest craftsmanship of

the vernacular period is gone or is in the process of disappear

ing is not restricted to those involved in the academic study of European and American vernacular architecture, but is

equally common and strong among scholars working in the

non-western world.7 Indeed, it is also the view of the general

public, as well as of many academics who are not active in the

field themselves including many, if not most architects.

And, of course, the assumption is largely justified, as

many unique vernacular building traditions have disappeared

in recent history, and a vast number is currently in the process

of being lost. In China, for example, a country with a richly diverse array of vernacular traditions (including such building types as hierarchically ordered siheyuan or courtyard houses,

massive circular earth fortresses, mobile nomadic yurts, and

underground cave dwellings), vernacular buildings are being obliterated at an alarming rate to make way for new housing

blocks, shopping malls, and office centers. Often regarded as too ordinary, outdated or dysfunctional, the vernacular

is perceived as standing in the way of progress and develop

ment. In large parts of the country, as Ronald Knapp notes,

modern designs and materials have "ruptured links with lo

cal styles and building conventions, bringing about a striking

homogenisation of housing in a country once known for the

diversity of local traditions." Sadly, the situation in China is

by no means unique, and similar processes of modernization

that bring about the destruction of architectural heritage and the loss of vernacular skills and knowledge are taking place in

many other parts of the world, including Ireland, Indonesia,

and Romania (fig. 2).

To a large extent, therefore, the attention to the docu

mentation and preservation of historical buildings is under

standable and justified. Yet, the downside of this almost ex

clusive focus on the past, on documentation and preservation,

and of the predominance of narratives of decline and loss

that substantiate it (and which, in combination, often result in

emphatic attempts to safeguard the buildings from modernity and preserve them, if possible, in their original state), is that in doing so, vernacular architecture, and in effect its study, is

relegated to the past. By making the category of the vernacular

consist of buildings that are historical or, in the case of non

western buildings, traditional (by which, generally speaking, are meant those buildings that are or have directly evolved out

116 Perspectives In Vernacular Architecture


?m

Fig. 2. Traditional houses, abandoned and dilapidated; Sungai Penuh, Kerinci, Indonesia. (1996 Photograph, Author)

of indigenous building traditions that existed in the period just before or during the European colonial encounter), the impli cation is that there is no real future for vernacular architecture.

Because with the unstoppable advance of modernization and

globalization those buildings are ever more likely to change or disappear, the vernacular itself becomes a lost world?and

with it, its field of study becomes the exclusive domain of

historians. At the same time, by emphasizing (because of the concerns over their vulnerability) the documentation and

preservation of historical buildings, many studies in the field of vernacular architecture include representations that are frozen

in time and incomplete. They look at the historical meaning, use, and construction of buildings, while ignoring their active

re-use, re-interpretation, or adaptation in the present.

Similar observations have of course been made before

by scholars like Janet Abu-Lughod and Dell Upton.9 Taking into account their arguments, I believe that the tendency to

focus on a limited category of historical or traditional build

ings, and to ferventiy try and safeguard these buildings from

modern change and decline by studying or preserving them in

their historical state, has restricted the scope and development of the field of vernacular architecture studies and continues to

hamper the recognition of the vernacular as an architectural

category worthy of full academic and professional attention. It effectively relegates vernacular traditions to the past by em

phasizing either their historical or traditional (to many people, outdated) status, rather than helping them endure and develop by pointing out their dynamic and adaptive character.

What I want to call for in this paper, therefore, reflect

ing on the theme of the future of vernacular architecture

studies, is a more dynamic approach that explicidy focuses on building traditions rather than buildings. Of course, such an approach is nothing new in itself and has already been

successfully employed for a long time by many scholars in

the field. Nevertheless, as noted above, most attention in this

respect has been paid to historical patterns of change and

development. What I want to call for more specifically here,

however, is an approach that acknowledges the dynamic and dialectic nature of vernacular traditions by explicidy at

tempting to understand how such traditions, through human

agency, change and adapt to the cultural and environmental

circumstances and challenges of not just the past, but of the

present and the future. Such an approach, which removes the

vernacular from its sheltered retreat by looking at old as well

Marcel Velunga, The Inventiveness of Tradition 117


as new building traditions and, crucially, at the way in which

they meet, interact, and amalgamate so as to create present

day vernacular architecture, should not replace the current

historical discourse but ought to take a place alongside it. It

will, I believe, enable us to evade the current predicament

and historical entrapment of the vernacular and, in so do

ing, will allow us to foresee a future for the vernacular, and,

by implication, its study.

A DYNAMIC vernacular: the Minangkabau house

As noted, many unique vernacular traditions have

undoubtedly disappeared throughout history and, sadly, too

many are currendy under threat or undergoing a similar fate.

Yet I believe it is important to recognize that as real, wide

spread* and disconcerting as this decline and loss may be, it

does not necessarily make up the whole story; for next to the

unmistakable tales of woe documenting the destructive im

pacts of modernization and globalization, there are also tales

of vernacular persistence and vibrancy. Thus, next to the rural

Irish farmhouses that are being rapidly replaced by modern

bungalows or the inner-city Chinese courtyard houses that

have to make way for skyscrapers and shopping malls, there

are vernacular traditions like those of the Sa'dan Toraja in

Indonesia or the Maori in New Zealand that persist and are

undergoing a remarkable process of resurgence.10 Similarly,

there are vernacular traditions that persist in a less conspicu

ous or spectacular way, exemplified by converted Cotswold

barns used as second homes (some of the barns have, in fact, been newly constructed), Lakota sweat lodges frequented by Native Americans and whites, "short" Borneo longhouses used as ceremonial meeting halls, or Mongolian yurts that

are occasionally used as tourist accommodation. All of these

have incorporated changes in meaning or cultural context

while retaining their own distinctive character (fig. 3).11 And

there are also buildings, such as the many beer-can houses,

earthbag-papercrete houses, or converted flatbed trucks in

the United States, that seem new or without precedent but

draw their inspiration from vernacular forms, plans, and

technologies.

Of course, it can be and often is argued that such build

ings are not, or at least no longer are, truly vernacular. Rather

than the "real thing," they are at best regarded as deriva

tives, replicas or imitations of the true vernacular. At worst,

they are seen as simulacra or downright fakes, deliberately manufactured to exploit their associations of tradition and

authenticity for political and economic reasons. After all, the

Fig. 3. Cotswold barn, dating back to the eighteenth century, now converted into a museum and

shop; Filkins, Gloucestershire, UK. (2006 Photograph, Author)



true vernacular is commonly said to consist of the architecture

of the people, having been built by the owners or inhabitants

themselves, using local materials and traditional technologies that have been handed down through the generations, in

keeping with local cultural values and needs, and in response to local climatic circumstances. Many of the new buildings, such as the modernized Sa'dan Toraja origin houses, the gen trified Cotswold barns, or the adapted Mongolian yurts do

not meet these conditions, but have been made by contractors

or professional builders, using modern materials (sometimes in combination with traditional ones) that are not necessarily suited to the local climate, and incorporating contemporary conveniences such as electricity, central heating, bathrooms,

refrigerators, and television sets. Their vernacular authenticity

is therefore at best seen to be questionable. Typologically situ

ated somewhere between the "real," traditional, or historical

vernacular and the modern, such buildings are frequendy

identified as "new vernacular" or, in reference to non-western

traditions, as "neo-" or "post-traditional."14

Yet in many cases these buildings are undoubtedly part of a vernacular tradition, combining traditional elements

(forms, or materials, or space use) with new ones (technologies, conveniences, materials). Let me try and argue this point by

looking at an example, the "new" vernacular houses built by

the Minangkabau people in West Sumatra, Indonesia. It can

be argued in this case that, even though the materials, tech

nologies and functions have undergone changes, the houses

(through their plan, design, meaning and use) still form part of a distinctive, culturally-shared and localized tradition.

Traditionally, vernacular Minangkabau houses have been

constructed of timber, which was used to make the posts,

the roof structure, and often the floor and the walls (includ

ing their occasional colorful decorations). Other materials

included rattan and bamboo to make floors and walls, and

palm fiber to thatch the characteristic upwardly sweeping roofs (fig. 4). The interior of the traditional houses is generally characterised by an open hall at the front (occupying two

thirds of the total space), which serves as a communal living

Fig. 4. Traditional Minangkabau house, built of timber and bamboo, with the characteristic upward sweeping roof, here clad

with corrugated iron; Balai Talang, Sumatera Barat, Indonesia.

(2006 Photograph, Author)



space for the members of the matrilineal descent groups that

own the houses. During ceremonies this hall is also used to

receive and entertain guests. At the rear of the houses are to

be found small compartments that serve as sleeping places for

the women belonging to the house (fig. 5). The distribution of

these compartments follows a specific circulating pattern that

is taken to represent the life cycles of the women concerned

and, consequently, the continuity of the descent groups that

own the houses.15

Though many of these traditional houses remain

throughout large parts of West Sumatra, they have since the

late 1960s been accompanied by a large number of so-called

"new vernacular houses." Built by professionals using modern

materials and construction technologies, these new houses

resemble traditional Minangkabau houses in their design and spatial layout. Hence they are built on piles, are provided

with a distinctive roof that is characterized by upwardly rising

spires, and in many instances are colorfully decorated with

woodcarvings on the gables and facades. Internally, they are

divided into a large open hall at the front and a back area that

is divided into enclosed compartments. Despite this traditional

design and spatial layout, however, most of the new houses

have been built using modern resources and technologies. Un

like their traditional predecessors they are no longer made of

natural materials like timber and thatch, but are mostly built

in concrete or brick, with corrugated iron or zinc roofs, even

though in many cases timber panels have been glued onto the

concrete to create the impression that the house has been made

of wood. In some cases roofs have still been thatched (fig. 6).

Apart from these changes in materials, the social and

ritual context of house construction has changed. In the past,

the construction of a vernacular house was a communal affair,

the whole family working together under the guidance of a

master builder, while the building process was regulated by the performance of specific rituals and social festivities that

were meant to enhance the vitality and fortune of the house.

Though this is still the case in some isolated areas, many of the

traditional ceremonies and rituals are now no longer deemed

necessary when a new house is constructed, and old notions

of communal help and duties have generally been replaced

by the specialized work of modern, academically-educated

architects and contractors. At the same time, the use and

meaning of the houses have changed. Usually financed and

owned by successful migrant entrepreneurs living in Indone

sian cities or abroad, the majority of new vernacular houses

no longer serve as traditional dwellings but stand empty for

Fig. 5. Interior of a vernacular Minangkabau house, with small private rooms at the back and an open, communal

hall at the front; Ab ai Sangir, Sumatera Barat, Indonesia. (Drawing by Gaudenz D omenig)



FT^TI

Fig. 6. New vernacular Minangkabau house, showing traditional design and layout, but built using concrete and modern

technologies; Balai Talang, Sumatera Barat, Indonesia. (1993 Photograph, Author)

most of the year, being only occasionally used for ceremonies

that mark important social events, celebrations, or crises in the

lives of the families that own them. In the past, the traditional

vernacular house was the social focus of the family, the place

where life unfolded and most social interaction took place. Now, one might say, the new vernacular house has become a

symbol, an expression of the prestige and unity of the family whose members live dispersed in smaller modern houses or,

increasingly, elsewhere in Indonesia or abroad.

The changes in construction and use indicate the con

tinuing symbolic importance of the new houses. Because it is

expensive to build, a new, modernized vernacular house (like

its traditional predecessors) serves as an objectification of the

wealth of its owners. At the same time, in the current era of

globalization, tourism, and increased ethnic contact and (sadly, in the case of Indonesia) conflict, it serves as an ethnic symbol,

indicating to those who see it that its owners are Minangkabau

people who are proud of their ethnic background and care

for the survival of their vernacular building tradition. The

interrelation of this economic and ethnic symbolism explains the fact that the design of the new houses tends to correspond

to that formerly reserved for members of the Minangkabau

nobility and that the distinctive elements of this design (es

pecially the roof spires and woodcarvings) often tend to be

emphasised, if not exaggerated. It also explains the symbolic

efficacy of the houses. Because a new vernacular house com

bines prestigious modern elements (modern building materi

als, the involvement of architects, and new technologies) with

prestigious traditional ones (a design formerly reserved for

the nobility, elaborate woodcarvings), it forms a very potent

symbol?one, indeed, that has been shown to play an impor

tant part in localized processes of socio-political competition and displacement (fig. 7).17

In those cases where houses have been built to actively claim status and power, their traditional character has been

explicitly stressed in their design and plan, so as to make them

resemble the popular image of what an "authentic" traditional

Minangkabau house should look like. In some cases this com

pliance has been extreme, almost turning the houses into a

parody of the vernacular. An example is provided by a house

that was built in the village of Balai Talang in the district of

50 Kota during the early 1980s (fig. 6). Commissioned by a



Fig. 7. New vernacular Minangkabau house. Elaborate decorations

and exaggerated roof spires are used to emphasise its traditional

character; SulitAir, Sumatera Barat, Indonesia. (1996 Photograph, Author)

wealthy diplomat of local origin, it is situated along the major road that runs through the village from Payakumbuh to Suliki

and, like most new houses, is made of concrete covered with

decorated wooden panels. Topped by an impressive thatched

roof featuring four sweeping spires, it shows such resemblance

to the popular image of traditional Minangkabau architecture

that it is featured as an example of authentic (jdias) Minang kabau architecture on the cover of A.A. Navis's influential

study, Alam Terkambangjadi Guru}% Another good example is

an elaborately designed and decorated house built during the

early 1990s in the village of Pagar Ruyung (district of Tanah

Datar). Exemplifying the close link between the new houses

and socio-political contestations, the owners (claiming to be

descendants of the last Minangkabau ruler, who was deposed in the 1830s) are keen to emphasize that this house, rather

than the "official" government-funded building located a few

hundred yards up the road, is the "real" palace (fig. 8).

The modernized character of the new houses, the ex

aggeration of their design, and their economic and political

instrumentality have, however, raised questions (and continue

to do so) about their authenticity. Though complying with

traditional forms and plans, the new houses have been re

garded by some as "fakes," "replicas," or "imitations" of the

older "truly traditional" houses. The new houses are seen as

buildings that (having been built by professional builders using modern materials, and by being emphatically used to claim

status) are no longer a true part of the vernacular tradition,

but are at best "neo-" or "post-traditional." They are, as the

argument goes, houses that are deliberately manufactured

to exploit their associations with tradition for political and

economic goals, but have (or perhaps, have therefore) lost their

local, "original" meaning. Like the newly built "converted"

Cotswold barns or the contemporary Sonoran style suburban

houses in Arizona, the new Minangkabau houses have been

said to constitute yet another example of the manufactured

or "invented" cultural traditions.

A question I would like to raise here, however, is whether

this is a fair verdict? Does the fact that the houses are made

with different materials and for ostensibly different purposes make them less vernacular or authentic than their traditional

predecessors? Are they indeed mere imitations of traditional

houses or, worse, fakes because they assume traditional forms

but are made by architects who use modern materials such as

concrete and who try to hide this fact behind timber panels? Or do they in fact represent a new phase in the evolution of

a distinctive building tradition that has adapted itself to a new

cultural and ecological context? I would argue the latter. The

new vernacular houses in West Sumatra, like the newly built

"converted" Cotswold barns and Sonoran style suburban

houses in Arizona, should not be dismissed as inauthentic

replicas or post-traditional travesties. Instead, the new West

Sumatra houses should be regarded as the late twentieth cen

tury successors to what western scholars and Minangkabau

alike see as the Minangkabau vernacular. After all, if we look

at the traditional houses that have been built earlier on in the

twentieth century (i.e. the houses that generally serve as the



r**J

Fig. 8. New vernacular house, claimed by its owners to be the "real33 palace of the former ruler of Minangkabau; Pagar Ruyung, Sumatera Barat, Indonesia. (1996 Photograph, Author)

point of reference for the authenticity of the new ones), it becomes clear that the instrumental use of houses is nothing new. Historic research has shown that quite a few of the old houses were in fact built with similar purposes in mind as the new ones: to claim status and power within the context of

localized socio-political contests and struggles.20

The differences between the so-called truly traditional and modernized houses, are materials and technologies, the

function that the houses perform, and the social context of construction. Timber and thatch in the past, concrete and

corrugated iron now; residential and ceremonial unit in the

past, symbol and ceremonial center now; master builder and

communal help in the past; architects and contractors now.

Of course, these differences all relate to elements that are

commonly seen to define the vernacular as a distinct category.

After all, the use of local materials and communal construction

by members of the community are central to many definitions of the vernacular. Yet, I would argue, the dynamic and flexible

adaptation to local cultural and ecological circumstances is an equally important element of vernacular tradition. And

whatever else can be said about the character of the new

houses?being made of modern materials, serving as symbols

that are used only on ceremonial occasions, and including elec

tric lights, modern kitchens, bathrooms, and garages?they do

comply with contemporary, "modern" Minangkabau cultural

values, wishes, and requirements (fig. 9). Similarly, though the modern materials may not all be climatically suitable, they are

what people nowadays want and can afford, and are, partially at least, chosen in response to the deforestation of large parts

of Sumatra and the fact that suitable timber is therefore simply no longer available.

So, although we, as scholars of the vernacular or

Minangkabau culture, may view the new houses as fakes or

imitations, embodying the acculturation, or even the destruc

tion and loss of the authentic timber, bamboo, and thatch

building tradition, it is in fact equally valid to see them as the

representatives of a new phase in the development or evolu

tion of that distinctive vernacular tradition. Indeed, this is how many (though admittedly not all) Minangkabau people themselves see them. Tradition, as a process of active regen

eration and transformation of know-how and practices within

a contemporary local context, is dynamic and continuously

changing. A vernacular building tradition, whether it is that of the Minangkabau in Indonesia, the Zulu in South Africa, the



I * J>*'*$h I i I \ -^?^?SF^aI

Fig. 9. New vernacular Minangkabau house; Anding, Sumatera Barat, Indonesia. (1996 Photograph, Author)

Nage in India, or the Lakota in South Dakota is no different; it is an ever changing continuous interplay of precedent and

innovation that dialectically responds to changes in society,

culture, and the natural environment.

The Vernacular and the Future

Returning to the theme of the possible future of the field

of vernacular architecture studies, I believe that this dynamic and dialectic nature of vernacular traditions needs to be more

explicidy acknowledged in our research and teaching. The

new Minangkabau houses and other new buildings that I have

briefly referred to are indeed, in many cases, and in varying

degrees, different from their pre-industrial predecessors. Yet, I would argue, they can still be seen as vernacular, in the sense

that they are distinctive cultural expressions of people who

live in or feel attached to a particular place or locality, and

as such they form part of, or indeed help to constitute the

local and shared architectural dialect. And the same, I would

argue, goes for those historical buildings in West Sumatra

and for buildings elsewhere in the world that have undergone

significant changes in construction, use, and meaning.

Combining modern and traditional elements, evolving from

the amalgamation of existing vernacular and modern tradi

tions, they are buildings that, though perhaps modern or new

in a very real sense, are nonetheless rooted in tradition and

place. A gentrified Cotswold barn can still only be found in

the Cotswolds, and a modernized Minangkabau house only in West Sumatra. Rather than breaking with tradition, they

represent its inventiveness.

Besides, I would argue, though they are different from

their predecessors in terms of the kind of materials, technolo

gies or forms that have been used to make them, or in terms

of the kind or class of people that associate themselves with

them, those modernized vernacular buildings (or perhaps we

should call them "vernacularized" modern buildings) are still

genuine cultural expressions in themselves. Consequently, I

believe that they deserve as much academic and professional attention as their traditional predecessors, as each and every one of them provides insight into the manifold ways in which

architecture is fundamentally involved in the constitution of

cultural identities?and because each and every one may teach

us how, in time, and interdependently linked to such cultural

identities, traditions become established, change, adapt, and

ultimately endure or disappear.

We may not like them, and we may criticize and

disapprove of them because maybe we feel that the honest

craftsmanship that (in our minds at least) characterized their

predecessors is no longer present; or because the new materials

are not as well suited to the local climate as the old ones; or,

perhaps, because by incorporating modern building elements

they remind us too much of the new, mass-produced buildings



that we see all around us and that some of us have to inhabit

in our own contemporary societies. But we should not ignore

them. After all, it arguably is these kinds of buildings, repre

senting the amalgamation of the traditional and the modern, that make up the contemporary and future vernacular. Study

ing them will teach us much about how building traditions are

transmitted, developed, and changed, and will also give us a

better insight into the contemporary perception, appreciation, and representation of vernacular architecture.

Rather than looking down our noses at them, I therefore

think that we, as scholars of the vernacular, should begin to

pay serious attention to such buildings as converted Cumbrian

barns, regenerated Dutch windmills used as restaurants,

Mongolian yurts with concrete foundations and electric lights, and Bornean longhouses simultaneously used as homes and

backpackers' hostels. We should also look more closely at

the millions of vernacularized suburban houses in Dubai,

London, Jakarta, Tucson, and scores of other towns and cit

ies all around the world (fig. 10 and fig. 11), as well as at con

temporary architectural phenomena like ethnically-themed retirement homes, cultural villages, vernacularized shopping malls and even (as a modern variant of the Sears Roebuck

& Co. house kits) IKEA flatpack houses; treating them not

as kitsch or cheap derivatives, fakes, or imitations of the real

vernacular, but as part of dynamic building traditions that, like all traditions, will become established, evolve, combine,

adapt, endure, or disappear. For although they are different

from the buildings that preceded them, combining traditional

and modern elements, they are nonetheless distinctive cultural

artifacts that are uniquely related to the particular social

context in which they are found. In that sense they are, like

their predecessors, truly (and not "neo-," "new" or "post-")

vernacular; that is, they are rooted in a particular place and

tradition, are common (in the sense of "shared" as well as

"widespread" or "prevalent") built forms in the cultures or

regions concerned and are generally used (and in some cases

built, using locally available materials) by communities as part of their everyday life.

Incorporating these buildings into the vernacular dis

course, alongside the historical and traditional buildings that we already are studying, will open up a wide field of research: a contemporary, varied, and exciting field in which new and

enduring building traditions continue to come together in

creative and new ways. Of course, studying the way in which

traditions develop, combine, and amalgamate has long been common in the field. But, as noted, much of this work has

Fig. 10. New suburban house, vernacularized so as to relate to local historical buildings (compare Fig. 1); Pembridge, Herefordshire, UK. (2006 Photograph, Author)



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Fig. 11. New house, incorporating distinctive Sonoran design elements; near Bisbee, Arizona. (2005 Photograph, Author)

dealt with the past. What needs to be done now is to broaden

the scope of vernacular architecture studies by looking at

present-day as well as historical examples of change, adap

tation and amalgamation. Such a broadening of the scope

will, I believe, increase the recognition of the vernacular as

a field of academic and professional interest, expunging the

latent primitivism that (especially in relation to non-western

traditions) characterizes some of the discourse, and evading its current predicament and historical entrapment. Requiring

(as in the case of the buildings that we are already studying) focused, accurate, and detailed analyses of the ways in which

the present-day buildings relate to historical or traditional

places, people, buildings, landscapes, and cultures, it will allow us to envision a future for the vernacular and its study and

will, as Dell Upton has noted, enable a more comprehensive

and better architectural history to emerge.23

Most importantiy, perhaps, a focus on the transmission,

development, and amalgamation of building traditions will

enable the development of an approach to architecture that

acknowledges the existence of change, but which, rather than

lamenting and trying to stop it, tries to understand how and

why it takes place and attempts to ensure, through critical as

sessment and engagement, that the changes that are effected

are sensible, appropriate, and, most of all, sustainable. Though

critical voices can still be heard, it is increasingly recognized

that the world is currendy experiencing rapid environmental

changes, as exemplified by a rapid loss of natural resources

and species, high levels of energy consumption, and increasing amounts of waste and pollution. This environmental change

goes together with, and is to a large extent caused, or at least

accelerated, by global cultural developments and transforma

tions including mass consumption, continued urbanization, and the increasing internationalization of capital, business

and power. As a major consumer of energy and a prominent

cultural category, architecture is inextricably bound up with

these developments. Consequendy, there has been a growing interest among architects, planners, and engineers in the de

sign of architecture that can address the many environmental,

economic, and social problems in a sustainable way.

Though the common and persistent tendency to rel

egate vernacular architecture to the past would seem to suggest

otherwise, I believe (at the risk, perhaps, of being what Henry Glassie calls a "consumption" student of the vernacular) that

the vernacular may have much to offer to the successful de

velopment of such sustainable architecture. As a source of

traditional knowledge, skills, and ideas, comprising practices,

technologies, resources, and forms that often have developed as part of a continuous process of trial and error, it may offer

many valuable precedents to the scholars and professionals

involved in the development of buildings that can address



localized environmental challenges in a culturally appropri ate way. Indeed, as Paul Oliver has noted, seeing that the vast

majority of people in the world currently live in vernacular

buildings and are likely to continue doing so throughout the

twenty-first century, the vernacular will have to play a seri

ous role in this respect. In order for such an integration of

vernacular knowledge into modern architectural practice to

take place, however, the point that all vernacular traditions

constitute dynamic and creative processes that result from

cultural encounters, borrowings, and conjunctions and that,

as such, should be allowed to change and develop needs to be

accepted. Most of all, it will be necessary for scholars of the

vernacular to look ahead as well as behind, and to actively

engage in research that will teach us how what we learn from

the past can be put to good use in the future.

"It's happening," wrote Paul Oliver in 1984; "New

messages are being uttered in the vernacular but, as far as

I'm aware, no one is devoting much attention to finding out

what they mean."271 think that now, at the beginning of a new

millennium, faced as we are with a multitude of new cultural

and ecological challenges, it is time that we students of the

vernacular come out of our retreat, and make a start trying

to find out what these new vernacular messages are, what we

may learn from them, how they relate to earlier vernacular

messages, and how we can make them work in order that a

sustainable future built environment may be cr-eated.

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge the financial support of the

Arts and Humanities Research Council and the British Acad

emy, which made it possible for me to present an earlier version

of this paper at the VAF conference in Tucson, Arizona.

Endnotes 1 Marshall Sahlins, "Two or Three Things That I Know

About Culture," Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 5, no. 3

(1999): 408-409. 2 Paul Oliver, "Round the Houses," in British Architecture, ed.

A. Papadakis (London: Architectural Design, 1984). 3

See, for example, I.R. Pattison, D.S. Pattison, and N.W.

Alcock, eds., A Bibliography of Vernacular Architecture, Volume III: 1977

1989 (Aberystwyth: Vernacular Architecture Group, 1992). See also

the contributions to the journal Vernacular Architecture, published by

the Vernacular Architecture Group in Britain. 4 Thomas Carter and Elizabeth Collins Cromley, Invitation to

Vernacular Architecture (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press,

2005), 17. See also the contributions in Elizabeth Collins Cromley

and Carter L. Hudgins, eds., Gender, Class and Shelter: Perspectives in

Vernacular Architecture V (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press,

1995); Carter L. Hudgins and Elizabeth Collins Cromley eds., Shaping Communities: Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture VI (Knoxville: Univer

sity of Tennessee Press, 1997); and Sally McMurry and Annmarie

Adams, eds., People, Power, Places: Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture

VIII (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2000). 5 Oliver, "Round the Houses," 17; Henry Glassie, Vernacular

Architecture (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000), 49. 6 Henry Glassie, "Aesthetic," in Encyclopedia of Vernacular

Architecture of the World, ed. Paul Oliver (Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 1997), 5. 7 Dell Upton, "The Tradition of Change," Traditional Dwellings

and Settlements Review 5, no. 1 (1993). 8 Ronald G. Knapp, China's Old Dwellings (Honolulu: University

of Hawaii Press, 2000), 326. 9 Upton, "The Tradition of Change"; Janet Abu-Lughod,

"Disappearing Dichotomies: First World?Third World; Tradi

tional?Modern," Traditional Dwellings and Settlements Review 3, no.

2 (1992). 10 Reimar Schefold, "Hearthless House and Painted Concrete:

Aspects of Ethnicity Among the Sa'dan Toraja and Toba Batak (In

donesia)," in Religion and Development: Towards an Integrated Approach, eds.

Philip Quarles van Ufford and Matthew Schoffeleers (Amsterdam:

Free University Press, 1988), 231-246; Lynne Hancock, "Maori:

Marae," in Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architecture of the World, ed. Paul

Oliver (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 1216-1217; Deidre Brown, "Maori: Morehu," in Encyclopedia of Vernacular Architec

ture of the World, ed. Paul Oliver (Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 1997), 1217. 11 Michael Hill and Sally Birch, Cotswold Stone Homes: History,

Conservation, Care (Stroud: Alan Sutton, 1994); R.A. Bucko, TheLakota

Ritual of the Sweat Lodge: History and Contemporary Practice (Lincoln and

London: University of Nebraska Press, 1998); Antonio J. Guerreiro,

"The Bornean Longhouse in Historical Perspective, 1850-1990:

Social Processes and Adaptation to Changes," in Indonesian Houses:

Tradition and Transformation in Vernacular Architecture, eds. Reimar Sche

fold, Gaudenz Domenig, and Peter Nas (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2003),

285-331; C. Evans and C. Humphrey, "After-lives of the Mongolian

Yurt: The Archaeology' of a Chinese Tourist Camp," Journal of

Material Culture 1, no. 2 (2002). 12 Lloyd Kahn, Home Work: Handbuilt Shelter (Bolinas: Shelter

Publications, 2004). 13 Paul Oliver, "Introduction," in Encyclopedia of Vernacular

Architecture of the World, ed. Paul Oliver (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), xxi-xxviii.

14 See Vicky Richardson, New Vernacular Architecture (London:

Laurence King, 2001). The phrase "post-traditional" was coined

at the December 2004 Conference in Dubai of the International

Association for the Study of Traditional Environments and already seems to have gained wide acceptance; See Nezar Alsayyad, "Editor's



Note," Traditional Dwellings and Settlements Review 16, no. 2 (2005), 6. 15 Marcel Vellinga, Constituting Unity and Difference: Vernacular

Architecture in a Minangkabau Village (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004),

100-118. 16 Vellinga, Constituting Unity and Difference; Marcel Vellinga,

"A Family Affair: The Construction of Vernacular Minangkabau

Houses," Indonesia and the Malay World 32, no. 92 (2004). 17 Vellinga, Constituting Unity and Difference', Marcel Vellinga,

"The Use of Houses in a Competition for Status: The Case of Abai

Sangir (Minangkabau)," in Indonesian Houses: Tradition and Transforma

tion in Vernacular Architecture, eds. Reimar Schefold, Gaudenz Domenig,

and Peter Nas (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2003). 18 A. A. Navis, Alam Terkembang Jadi Guru (Jakarta: Grafiti

Press, 1984), cover. 19 Marcel Vellinga, "The Attraction of the House: Architec

ture, Status and Ethnicity in West-Sumatra," in Framing Indonesian

Realities: Essays in Symbolic Anthropology in Honour of Reimar Schefold, eds.

PJ.M. Nas, G. Persoon, and R. Jaff (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004). 20 Vellinga, Constituting Unity and Difference.

21 Anthony King, The Bungalow: The Production of a Global Culture

(Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); Paul Oliver,

Ian Davis, and Ian Bentley, Dunroamin: The Suburban Semi and Its Enemies

(London: Barrie and Jenkins, 1981). 22

Sahlins, "Two or Three Things that I Know About Cul

ture." 23 Dell Upton, "Outside the Academy: A Century of Vernacu

lar Architecture Studies, 1890-1990," in The Architectural Historian

in America, ed. E.B. MacDougall (Washington: National Gallery of

Art, 1990), 211. 24 See for example: Terry Williamson, Antony Radford, and

Helen Bennetts, Understanding Sustainable Architecture (London: Spon

Press, 2003); Simon Guy and Steven A. Moore, eds., Sustainable

Architectures: Cultures and Natures in Europe and North America (New York:

Spon Press, 2005). 25 Glassie, "Aesthetic," 4.

26 Paul Oliver, "Vernacular Architecture in the 21st Century,"

Hepworth Lecture at the Prince of Wales Institute in London. 27 Oliver, "Round the Houses," 17.



Article Contentsp. 115p. 116p. 117p. 118p. 119p. 120p. 121p. 122p. 123p. 124p. 125p. 126p. 127p. 128

Issue Table of ContentsPerspectives in Vernacular Architecture, Vol. 13, No. 2, Special 25th Anniversary Issue (2006/2007), pp. i-iv, 1-136Front MatterIntroductionEmbracing Our Legacy, Shaping Our Future: The Vernacular Architecture Forum Turns Twenty-Five [pp. 2-6]The VAF at 25: What Now? [pp. 7-13]

AntecedentsArchitectural Plans and Visions: The Early HABS Program and Its Documentation of Vernacular Architecture [pp. 15-35]The Fundamental Practice of Fieldwork at Colonial Williamsburg [pp. 36-53]

Contributions"Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture", the VAF, and the Study of Ordinary Buildings and Landscapes in North America [pp. 55-63]Internationalism, Imperialism, Postcolonialism, Globalization: Frameworks for Vernacular Architecture [pp. 64-75]Assessing Regional Identity Amidst Change: The Role of Vernacular Studies [pp. 76-94]

PotentialsSeeing the Invisible: Reexamining Race and Vernacular Architecture [pp. 96-105]Recovering Performance for Vernacular Architecture Studies [pp. 106-114]The Inventiveness of Tradition: Vernacular Architecture and the Future [pp. 115-128]

Back Matter

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