Opinion / Nic Monisse
Razing standards
If you’re an architect who lives to the age of 93, it’s inevitable that some of your work will be torn down during your lifetime. But Owen Luder, who died this week, was particularly hard done by. Despite being one of only two architects to be elected president of the Royal Institute of British Architects (Riba) twice, he was perhaps most famous as a prominent member of the Rubble Club, a tongue-in-cheek support group for architects who have seen their buildings destroyed.
Three of the most iconic works Luder designed with his partner Rodney Gordon, the Tricorn Centre in Portsmouth (demolished in 2004), Derwent Tower in Gateshead (2012) and the nearby Trinity Square carpark and shopping centre (2010) – which was replaced with bland student housing and an uninspiring supermarket – all met the wrecking ball. All were beautiful brutalist structures that fell out of fashion and into disrepair. And all, right up until their last day, had the capacity to uplift a new generation and galvanise future designers.
In context, their demolition seems hasty. Most were only 40 years old, a short lifetime given that most buildings are designed to last 100 or more. We know that our tastes change: the concrete of brutalism, a material that Luder had no choice but to work with in postwar Britain, is now exceptionally popular. But it seems unwise to knock something down on those grounds alone.
Which begs the question: before any potential demolition, should developers first be enticed to revitalise or refurbish a building? Doing so could involve relaxed planning permissions or a tax exemption for retrofitting. Such a move could see more architectural treasures saved. And there’s clearly an appetite for it: this year’s Pritzker prize winners, Anne Lacaton and Jean-Philippe Vassal, won for their refurbishment efforts.
I’d like to think that it’s something Luder would have supported. After all, he oversaw the conversion of a listed fire station into the South London Theatre in 1967. As for me, I might consider a trip to that uninspiring supermarket – if it’s in a repurposed brutalist carpark in Gateshead.