Architect

Among the professors who taught monument Restoration at Italian universities, one of the least remembered is Ambrogio Annoni, even though he used to state what in my opinion is the most correct principle, that should thoroughly inform the practice of this field: i.e., the principle of “on a caseby- case basis.” According to this, every substantial decision regarding the interventions necessary to save a building from decay is connected to the study of all aspects concerning its construction, history, conditions and intended use. Against this sound principle, that does not challenge the possibility or opportunity of theories, but rather their irrefutability and time duration, a series of “charters of restoration” originated.

These charters served – and will serve – the purpose of crystallizing the occasional confluence of a group of scholars, in a certain cultural climate, over anyone of the possible rules; however, they certainly were not able – nor will ever be able – to transform a significant part of architecture into science. Some of the fundamental procedures in building restoration – as in construction – are of course scientifically based, but this does not mean that there is, for restoration, a separate statute able to free it from cultural and artistic commitments, and thus from the problems of architectural action, which entails responsibility derived from subjective, individual choices and evaluations.

Case-by-case does not mean that everything is possible and legitimate. Conversely, it means that architects who find themselves before a building requiring specific care have to deeply understand their work: they first of all need to be able to read the text they are about to modify; they need to ponder the meaning of their intervention, and their relationship with their client; and decide upon the legitimacy of any transformation on the basis of a range of costs and benefits: cultural and not only financial, collective and individual, public and private.
The legitimacy of these transformations first of all depends on the degree of the integrity of the building to be restored.

There doubtlessly exist works corresponding to Alberti’s definition of concinnitas (according to which nothing can be added nor removed lest that very quality falters). In such cases, any transformation and addition is an unacceptable abuse. Restorers should restrict themselves to “dusting,”when even merely removing the patina of age risks to take away part of an image’s historical value. But rarely does a restoration issue present itself with such clarity. By far more often, restorers have to decide which transformations and additions are compatible with the correct reading of the building and its intended use. As suggested above, such decisions can only be made “case-by-case”, and only following an accurate historical, aesthetical and structural preliminary study.

Here lies the importance of one of the most disputed issues in Restoration: i.e., the relationship between ancient and new, which, if settled by means of incontrovertible prohibitions or liberties unconditionally ruled, becomes the subject of endless debates getting nowhere. The only rule that is almost invariably acceptable is identifiability.
If something is changed or added, it does not necessarily have to be different from its context, but it has to be in any case identifiable. When Valadier completed the Arch of
Titus integrating the missing parts not with marble but by using travertine, he taught a lesson of clarity, even though his choice of the material gave rise to much criticism and
puzzlement. Close by, a restored portion of the Coliseum, where the stones are secured as if they were about to crumble down, demonstrates a sensitivity different but
valid all the same, which anticipates the virtuality of photography in seizing the fleeting moment.
Apart from these “good manners,” precepts are only useful to the extent in which they define one trend among the numerous different and equally justifiable trends suggested by the spirit of the times, taking then into account the fact that this spirit is ever changing, and its pursuit for men of culture is all but easy.
No theory, for instance, is more fascinating than the “antiscrape” approach, according to which monuments, like people, have in their fate birth, growth, old age, and death. In this perspective, resisting the natural degradation of a building is like resorting to plastic surgery in order to look younger; i.e., an act of gratuitous violence whose aesthetical outcome, as in a face-lift, is inescapably negative. Who does not appreciate the beauty of a wall peeling away to reveal the texture of the construction material, or the beauty of patinas enhancing the contrast between shaded and illuminated areas? However, if it is true that we have a responsibility towards the future, a duty towards the generations to come, forsaking the buildings whose “poetic” degradation we are now appreciating would imply depriving our heirs of that same pleasure.
William Morris himself, an advocate of the antiscrape, stated in 1881 that: “‘tis we ourselves, each one of us, who must keep watch and ward over the fairness of the earth, and each with his own soul and hand do his due share therein, lest we deliver to our sons a lesser treasure than our fathers left to us.”
During the 1950s, Italy, thanks to the work of Albini, the BBPR Group, Scarpa, Gardella, and Michelucci, not only has demonstrated the compatibility in restoration of new and ancient, but also the possibility that a surplus value originates from a bold juxtaposition, depending on the dialogical nature of the modern intervention. Having said that, considering dialogue as the only valid method would be bigoted. Contrast and fracture can also be meaningful when the occasion justifies their implementation, and when they result from a pondered and painful choice.
Likewise, the vexata questio concerning the whole reconstruction of buildings partly or completely demolished cannot be a matter of principle, lest impoverishing the human significance of a field like restoration which cannot ignore the interests of society. Examples such as Warsaw in the post-war period and more recently Berlin clarify both the value and limits of a practice without which these great European cities would have lost their historical identity.
Only the painstaking evaluation of costs and benefits, both material and spiritual, can lead to decisions that are far-reaching and collective, rather than the expression of corporative interests.

Our comments might generate a misunderstanding, i.e., that a “case-by-case” approach ends up permitting any solutions. Quite the opposite is true, since this approach does not allow vague justifications, such as the implementation of anyone of the “charters”, but implies certain, thoroughly pondered reasons, resulting from the accord among the representatives of distinct requirements. In recent times, on the occasion of the centenary year of Francesco Borromini’s death, while restoring the St. Carlino Church the problem arose over the legitimacy of removing a balcony that was obstructing the sight of the whole organism from the  entrance, and had covered a fresco by Mignard, particularly appreciated by Borromini. On the one hand, the tribute committee, mostly comprised of historians, supported the re-establishment; on the other hand, the Superintendence manifested methodological misgivings and underlined the value of the balcony and organ as pieces of historical evidence. In the end, also thanks to the sensitivity of architect Degni, author of the restoration, the balcony was demolished, a fragment of the fresco was recovered, and the oval frame enclosing it was completed, but its plastic decoration was not reproduced on the segments supplementing the missing parts. The solution’s validity was, in this case, inseparable from the value attached to Borromini’s work and its concinnitas, an entity that could not be measured in quantitative terms.
Regardless of trends and methods, today in Italy there exists a syndrome of preservation at all costs, which is showing a tendency of getting worse at an alarming pace. The old Superintendence of Monuments have recently added new functions of difficult execution to their institutional duties, which they were already hardly able to fulfil because of the well-known structural problems. Today they are called Superintendence of Environmental and Demoanthropological Assets. They depend on a Ministry of Cultural Heritage that has added “cultural activities” to its own duties; but since these activities have been entrusted to a dedicated institution, one might be justified in thinking that the primary duty of the superintendence is the preservation and protection of those environmental and demo were considered obsolete and a hindrance, without offering an adequate quid pro quo, to the process of adjusting to the new needs and desires of urban communities.
Even admitting that in many cases preservation would have been preferable to replacement, it is undeniable that greater balance and less inflexibility would benefit both the Italian conservatism and the cult of the new prevailing elsewhere.
In this case as well, it would be preposterous to “lump everything together.

” There exist, indeed, superintendents who bravely undertook actions based on a correct evaluation of what would be lost and gained by demolishing an edifice, and building it ex novo using the language of our times; however, there are almost countless cases in which interventions were limited to saving façades of no particular environmental interest, allowing a radical alteration of the wall structure, only for fear of introducing a modern piece of architecture in an ancient environment, even when it was represented by bleak examples from the most nondescript 19th-century building routine.
All this is usually passed off as a “renovated sensitivity towards environmental values” connected to the rediscovery of the fundamental relationship between monuments and
their surroundings, thus bestowing a value even to elements of the urban context which are insignificant in themselves.

This most correct principle is, though, applied not on a “case-by-case” basis, but often indiscriminately by defining boundaries that include the worthless parts as well.
The zeal and often good faith of those who behave as “to-thebitter- end” conservators cannot be questioned. Undoubtedly, in this way the risk is lessened, and we all know how rich Italy is in things to be preserved. On the other hand, though, it is essential to become aware that any form of excess, including that of preservation, has its cost, and, financial resources being as they are – i.e., always insufficient – restoring a worthless building is nonetheless squandering. During the 1930s, the competent ministry assigned superintendents to a task as arduous as beneficial: creating a catalogue of cultural assets and setting conservation restrictions; we all know how precious the partial cataloguing work carried out during that time is. Today, even though the massive amount of studies carried out in the last fifty years would make this task much easier, cataloguing is in a crisis, and cultural heritage is preferably discovered and subjected to restrictions only when considered endangered.
Restoration is a field in which Italy can claim extraordinary expertise with examples of high quality, usage of cutting edge technologies, and great aesthetical sensitivity.
In order for it to become a field of excellence in our architectural culture, an open debate is necessary where not the power of individuals but a shared reasoning determines the outcome.

Paolo Portoghesi