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‘It is indeed by uneasy steps that the pub has wandered through the paths of history, buffeted by storms of public controversy, assailed by the slings and arrows of temperance reformers, sometimes harassed, and sometimes supported by instruments of legislation. That it has survived in so ubiquitous a way is remarkable’ [1].
The success of the architecture of Victorian Dublin is typically understood through the grandeur of the Curvilinear Range at the Botanic Gardens, the Reading Room at the National Library or perhaps the Museum Building at Trinity College, each an example of intricate architecture, engineering, and craftsmanship. Deane, Woodward, and Turner are rarely forgotten in the discourse around the built fabric of Victorian Dublin, nor are Harry Clarke, the O’Shea Brothers or Carlo Cambi. However, this article focuses not on such grand artefacts and their architects. Instead, it is inspired by Dublin’s sixteen remaining Victorian pubs [2].
This visual essay takes The Swan Bar as a case study and aims to highlight the wealth of materiality to be found in these pubs, enjoyed by generations passing through. This map highlights the sixteen remaining Victorian pubs across the county of Dublin.
The Sixteen Victorian Pubs of Dublin
The Swan Bar (Lynch’s of Aungier Street)
The Swan Bar on Aungier Street in the heart of the city centre takes its patrons on a journey of materiality: mahogany, mirror, mosaic, clocks, brass, stained and tinted glass. Owned and run by the Lynch family for generations, the original materials which have remained in place from its 1890s refurbishment bear visible representations of the time that has passed. The tile and timber floor, patched in places, slightly sunken in others, is both a testament to its original craftsmanship and a palimpsest displaying evidence of former configurations. Quality materials not only last the test of time but often improve; a mahogany handrail is worn smooth by the million hands that have run across it. These architectural details were crafted with care and yet made to endure the thumping, scratching, cleaning, and polishing we have done for over one hundred years.
Under the front window where there now sits a cosy snug, a tea shop once faced the street. A common feature of the Victorian pub was to lend its shopfront to the selling of groceries - further suggested by the call bells in brass on mahogany and pitch pine. Division and threshold are strong features of the Victorian pub, and The Swan is no different. Within the central aisle, a forgotten porch is inscribed on the tiling revealing a large depiction of a swan which one would otherwise encounter upon entry. This patina allows for immersive engagement with the pub's history, going beyond appreciation for the craftsmanship itself.
It's an easy thing to romanticise Victorian craftsmanship. In reality, the maintenance of these buildings poses its issues, with contemporary publicans often having to navigate tricky legislation surrounding protected structures. The reasons for repairs vary, from obsolescence and natural decay, to wear and tear and intoxicated disregard. The manner and material of replacement speaks to the priorities, interest, and means of the owner. In the case of The Swan, the damaged yet original tile work tells of the stabilisation works undertaken beneath the ground floor, and a scratched mirror tells of blatant vandalism. While there is no lack of interest on the part of the owner, replacing triple bevelled mirrors and yellow stained glass panes, and bringing original brass pumps back into use is additional to the everyday demands of the service industry. Irish Licensing World claimed ‘A publican must be a democrat, an autocrat, an acrobat and a doormat’, in order to manage the wear of these pubs and fulfil contemporary conservation requirements; that list could continue [3].
There is a balance to be struck between reconfiguration to fit current purposes and the erasure of former use. A surface on which to light a match can be rendered obsolete by the lighter, a cashier's kiosk by modern-day payment methods, a whiskey cask by bottled spirits. While these physical Victorian details may be anachronistic, they add to the experience, as do the clock hanging centrally above the bar and, importantly, the Scottish granite countertop to keep a resting pint cool. Whether functionally obsolete or not, their presence ought to be valued by the publican and appreciated by the patron. The decision to retain such details is not driven by nostalgia but by appreciation of craft, in seeing the hand of the craftsperson in the everyday.
As artefacts in themselves, in their ornamentation and craftsmanship, these pubs should be valued. The decay and destruction of the city in the lifetime of these pubs is starkly contrasted by their permanence both materially and in operation. Their provision of an ‘escape from bleak tenement life’ and ‘a surrogate domesticity’ suggest that they were as rich and lavish an oasis then as they feel today. These materials, explored in the photographs below, offer a window through which we can gain another perspective on Victorian Dublin, scarred, rounded and smoothed by time. It is through our patronage that these pubs will continue.
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Open Space is supported by the Arts Council through the Architecture Project Award Round 2 2022.
1. K. Kearns and R. Rinehart, Dublin Pub Life and Lore: An Oral History, Dublin, 1997.
2. K. Kearns and R. Rinehart, Dublin Pub Life and Lore: An Oral History, Dublin, 1997.
3. K. Kearns and R. Rinehart, Dublin Pub Life and Lore: An Oral History, Dublin, 1997.
4. N. Booth, ‘Drinking and Domesticity: The Materiality of the Mid-Nineteenth-Century Provincial Pub’, Journal of Victorian Culture, 2018, vol. 23, no. 3, pp. 289-309.
OUTSIDE: IN, which ran from 29 May to 20 June, was a display of the work from the UCD School of Architecture Planning and Environmental Planning. This year, the summer exhibition wanted to invite the public into our studio spaces at Richview, continuing an important conversation between architectural education and the wider professional community, sparked by the Building Change project and highlighted at the RDS Architecture and Building Expo last October. The exhibition aimed to invite the outside into our world of Richview architecture and exhibit how the next generation of UCD architects are being prepared to shape the built environment.
The exhibition draws on the ideals of the new Building Change curriculum that has been introduced into the B.Arch over the past three years, and aims to comment on the environmental, social, and economic challenges and opportunities arising in current architectural discourse. OUTSIDE:IN sought to bridge the gap between academia, industry, practice, and policy. It represented a space where the values of architectural education intersect with the realities of contemporary practice.
Featuring the work of seventy-five Master of Architecture students, the work was curated around four forward-looking Design-Research Studios, each tackling real-world challenges through the lens of climate action:
• Housing & the City – rethinking urban living and community development.
• Material Embodiment & Resources – exploring sustainable materials, construction, and structure.
• Landscape Economy & Town – investigating settlement and production through social and economic perspectives.
• Past, Future & Reuse – advancing circularity and adaptive reuse in architecture.
As well as a celebration of the students work, the opening evening began with an insightful panel discussion with panellists Ana Betancour (Urban + Architecture Agency), Lucy Jones (Antipas Jones Architects), Sarah Jane Pisciotti (Sisk Group), Emmett Scanlon (Irish Architecture Foundation) and Conor Sreenan (State Architect, Office of Public Works). The panellists were carefully selected to reflect the diverse paths which are open to us as we leave the four walls of our institution. Although panellists share a common foundation in education and practice, each has pursued different and inspiring trajectories across the architectural realm.
The panel discussion allowed us to consider and reflect on our five years of education and growth, within and outside of the studios in Richview. The overall message was of encouragement, to have confidence, be brave, be unforgiving, unrealistic, and open-minded. The variation in the panellists showed the diverse and varied opportunities and interests that can stem from an architectural education. Our education is about the fundamental ability to evaluate things, understanding our own morals, social values, interests and to ask what can architecture be? Lucy Jones described architecture as a connective tissue that sits between art, policy, developers, education, the city, and people. The field mitigates between the pragmatism of society and the desire to evoke creativity and feeling within the urban environment. As Sarah Jane Piscotti said it is “a desire to know how others think and understand their perspective”. Having seen the process from within, we know there is so much more thought, passion, values, morals, and ideas in a project that can ever be represented on two grey boards. In Richview, we create a culture of curiosity and aim to understand others and we hope to bring this forward in whatever form it may manifest.
OUTSIDE:IN has allowed Richview to open its doors and studios to friends, family and the general public. Emmet Scanlon spoke about a need to de-silo architecture and its educational institutions, making it more accessible to people not within the field. There were certainly moments throughout our education where this sort of ‘wall’ was obvious to us. There was a continuous use of inaccessible language to communicate something that may have seemed relatively simple. At times it felt as if the words were being used to throw us off intentionally. But looking back these moments also taught us to question how and why we communicate our designs in a certain way and, in particular, who we are communicating it to. Despite the challenges and hurdles, our education pushed us to critically think, to find clarity among complex situations, and to constantly strive for inclusivity within our work. It’s a reminder that architecture is not just about what’s built, but about the people, language, and connections we are creating. As we move forward, we now have the opportunity to carry these lessons with us, to make the field more transparent and approachable and to always design with intention and accessibility at the centre.
The Building Change initiative aims to bring climate literacy and sustainability into practice through developing the undergraduate curriculum. A three-year project across all architectural schools in Ireland, it encourages students to engage with and consider the climate emergency, and their impact and responsibility as architects in relation to this. To celebrate the end of the three-year programme in UCD, the Building Change Student Curators held a competition titled, ‘Making Visible the invisible’. The aim of the competition was to submit a piece of work that communicates the often unseen factors that inform design. We cannot always see air, sound, force, energy, waste, biodiversity, environmental impacts etc., yet being able to understand and visualise these systems is a vital part of architectural practice. Similarly, Building Change was often an unseen system, changing and informing education in Richview over the past three years. To celebrate this and bring light to all the innovative and positive impacts the initiative had, a collaged mural was erected in the front foyer representing Building Change’s timeline within the school, plotted in relation to wider environmental changes on a global scale. The timeline is a visual representation indicating how our education is adapting and responding to the climate emergency.
OUTSIDE: IN opened Richview’s studio doors to the public, showcasing how UCD’s architecture students are responding to today’s environmental, social, and economic challenges. This article explores how the exhibition, grounded in the Building Change initiative, reflects a shift in architectural education connecting academia, industry, and community through design, dialogue, and climate action.
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The discussion around the likely impact of artificial intelligence on architectural practice is beginning to get genuinely interesting. In the period following the release of ChatGPT, much of the focus centred on image-generation tools such as DALL·E and Midjourney. More recently, however, attention has turned to the broader potential of emerging AI technologies in areas such as project scheduling, staffing, technical specification, performance evaluation and tendering.
One particularly intriguing development emerging from these discussions is the role AI might play in the process of planning and development. While early, high-profile experiments—such as Sidewalk Labs’ controversial plan for Toronto – attracted considerable media attention [1], this piece focuses on a more routine aspect of the planning process: the basic application for planning permission.
Before we get started, it is important to recognise that no two planning systems are exactly the same. In some municipalities, applications are assessed ‘in-the-round’ – characteristic of the “British/Irish planning family”, according to Newman and Thornley [2] – taking everything into account, including the architectural quality of the proposed design. Other systems (the Napoleonic, Germanic, Nordic and North American planning families) are more concerned with adherence to performance criteria and zoning regulations. So, when we speculate on the possible impact of AI on planning-application processes, we are not comparing like with like.
That being said, popular opinion would have it that planning systems worldwide struggle with bureaucratic delays, inconsistent decision-making and difficult administrative procedures. To address these issues, jurisdictions in various locations have begun exploring AI-powered tools to accelerate and improve development approvals.
One tool increasingly being adopted is ‘computer vision’, a powerful AI technology which interprets the information included in a planning application. Computer-vision tools are becoming highly sophisticated, capable of identifying where missing information in a drawing may be preventing either the AI model or the human planner from making a decision.
The very simplicity of the technology which drives computer vision means that it is likely to find wide adoption. The technology has four key features:
1. Neural Networks: These systems are trained on vast datasets of previously approved architectural drawings, allowing them to recognise patterns, standards, and recurring elements. This depth of training allows for planning reviews that are both accurate and consistent.
2. Object Recognition and Classification: Modern computer vision can distinguish between architectural components—walls, doors, windows, mechanical systems—and assess issues such as corridor width or travel distances to escape routes.
3. Semantic Segmentation: AI can now understand the spatial context of elements in relation to each other. For example, it can flag a bedroom placed beside a fire hazard as an error.
4. Multimodal Communication: Advanced models can cross-reference written annotations with elements contained within a drawing, enabling checks for consistency between plans, sections, and specifications.
In recent years, the City of Gainesville, Florida, reported that its proprietary AI review system reduced planning-review times from several weeks to just a few days [3, 4]. Similarly, Australian-based AI firm Archistar is gaining attention for its work with the cities of Austin and Vancouver [5, 6]. Most recently, the Department of Municipalities and Transport in Abu Dhabi claimed its AI-assisted system can deliver almost instant decisions for single-family home applications [7].
As a measure of how quickly things are moving, the ‘Object Recognition and Classification’ technology cited in item no. 2 above is now being replicated in small academic environments, including the Department of Architecture at South East Technological University in Waterford. In recent months, fifth-year students at SETU examined the different ways AI is likely to affect architectural practice. One student, Conor Nolan, trained a basic computer-vision model to identify symbols and other information on architectural drawings. The experiment was limited in scope, but it clearly demonstrated how easy it would be to create an AI model capable of reading planning drawings and identifying missing information. (To get a sense of how Conor’s experiment works, scan the QR code below and, once the app is running, point your camera at the drawing beneath the code).
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It seems inevitable, then, that AI will become a standard feature of planning processes everywhere, including here in Ireland. This raises a number of challenges, both social and technical. On the social side, planning holds a particular place in the Irish public consciousness and the idea of streamlining the process – potentially reducing the time available for public discourse – may require careful consideration.
On the technical side, the variety of AI approaches already available may have a more profound impact on planning systems like Ireland’s than on those found in North America or other parts of Europe. In planning systems where outcomes are determined by strong mathematical parameters and performance metrics – such as those found in Gainesville, Austin and Vancouver – many of the outcomes can often be determined by conventional computing approaches. The addition of AI, while useful in many regards, represents more of an incremental improvement than a fundamental change.
But in a system such as the one practised in Ireland, where applications are judged on a variety of sometimes very subtle metrics including quality of design, AI models trained on deep sets of historic data could prove transformative. These models have the capacity to examine previous applications in forensic detail, learning to recognise the complex factors that contribute to successful applications. This capability could enable more satisfactory outcomes on difficult planning applications while simultaneously guaranteeing fairness and consistency.
The success of such a development naturally depends on the quality and consistency of the planning decisions that will form the training data for these new AI models. The consistency of the Irish planning system has been questioned over the years, which could limit the effectiveness of a heavily AI-informed planning regime. However, this challenge also presents an opportunity: the process of preparing data for AI training could, in itself, drive improvements in planning consistency and transparency.
The integration of AI into architectural and planning practice represents more than just an advance in technology – it marks a fundamental shift in how we approach building design as well as how we plan our urban areas. As the tools evolve, their role will likely expand from basic compliance checks to assisting in achieving the optimum design response to any given set of conditions [8, 9].
AI may also help us get beyond traditional divisions between planning families. Rather than maintaining the current distinction between Irish/British systems focused on ‘in the round’ assessment and Germanic/American systems emphasising adherence to preferred geometric arrangements or performance criteria, AI could enable all jurisdictions to implement planning systems that offer sophisticated solutions to complex urban problems. The technology's capacity to handle multiple variables simultaneously – from technical compliance to aesthetic considerations – suggests a future where planning systems can be both rigorous as well as satisfying.
Artificial Intelligence is set to transform the planning processes. This article explores how emerging AI tools can streamline approvals, improve consistency, and reshape diverse planning systems, offering both technical potential and social challenges for design and planning practices in Ireland and internationally.
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The recent exhibition The Reason of Towns [1], along with the associated publication Approximate Formality [2] by Valerie Mulvin, are an appraisal of the inimitability and potential of our towns and villages across Ireland. They highlight the distinctive layout of the Irish town, characterised by a strictly structured composition and a foundational assemblage of public buildings. This has provided our towns, even with the most modest populations, with a rich compilation of fine churches, market houses, libraries, and courthouses often constructed from cut limestone and granite, establishing the foundation for a well-defined urban landscape.
This formal configuration around market squares has provided the backdrop for the theatre of domestic life for centuries. However, many such squares currently stand devoid of vitality, plagued by neglect and dereliction, and burdened by excessive traffic and parking congestion. Any pride or affection we feel for them is inevitably tainted by the knowledge that they are imprints of a colonial past, which lingers in the configuration of streets and squares viewed as not entirely our own. Traces of the past still quietly inform how we move through and relate to them today.
Over the past one-hundred years since independence, Ireland has struggled in navigating the postcolonial landscape and in addressing buildings with a residual colonial legacy. To date, a considerable portion of this discourse has primarily focused on the city of Dublin. The deliberate destruction and subsequent preservation of its characteristic Georgian terraces over the past century has been well debated and documented, and the value it adds to the urban fabric of the city has generally been accepted within the consensus.
The capital city assumed a symbolic role in negotiating the relationship with these buildings, determining which of them would be permitted to become emblematic of the emerging nation. This, coupled with the fact that the private market dictates that we develop urban areas faster, compelled the city to engage with its colonial built heritage earlier than its rural counterparts. Notwithstanding the triumphant role that economic priorities play in our evolving relationship with these buildings, this pressurised and hastened response to negotiating their legacy gives insight into the process involved to fully assimilate these buildings into the nation’s psyche. As this process is not as precipitated in a rural setting, an additional dimension of time is added to the dynamic. This passage of time hasn’t healed our relationship with these buildings; it has merely dulled it, leaving behind a quiet, unresolved ambivalence.
Irish society within the twenty-six counties underwent a discernible shift at the beginning of the latter half of the twentieth century, transitioning away from a predominant fixation on resistance against British imperialism towards a heightened focus on contemporary economic realities. Consequently, the enduring colonial legacy of many of these buildings has made meaningful engagement with them increasingly difficult. Thus, many of them effectively became ignored and abandoned, and in being "tombstones of a departed ascendency – they are of no use" [3]. The collective memory deemed them too innocuous to warrant eradication, yet too historically complex to facilitate meaningful engagement. This brings us to today, wherein our rural towns and villages exhibit a uniquely strong sense of communal pride, yet often remain markedly detached from the very built environment in which they sit.
Efforts certainly have been made over recent decades to challenge and question these prevailing narratives by various agencies promoting the conservation of our built heritage. However, there tends to be an emphasis on architectural features and artistic characteristics over the social aspects of the built environment. By focusing predominantly on technical and material issues, the broader socio-cultural significance embedded within historic structures can be overlooked, thereby neglecting narratives that contribute to a more holistic understanding of heritage [4].
This contributes to a significant portion of the Irish population lacking a sense of connection or ownership towards these colonial buildings, perceiving them as outside the scope of the nation's shared heritage. This disconnect does not stem from ignorance regarding the architectural significance of these structures. Instead, it arises from a residual colonial sentiment and collective memory of historical events. Without acknowledgement, this disconnect nurtures estrangement; an estrangement which cannot be overcome by simply celebrating a building's merits and architectural significance, but must invoke an architectural praxis built on social engagement.
This is what Michael D. Higgins refers as "a feigned amnesia around the uncomfortable aspects of our shared history" [which] "will not help us to forge a better future together" [5]. He explains how the Decade of Centenaries has provided for a period of ethical remembering, which helps to understand the reverberations of the past for today’s society. It has necessitated uncomfortable inquiries into the events and influences that have shaped Ireland and continue to influence its contemporary landscape. The fruit of this enterprise, however, is a resilient society that fosters a "hospitality of narratives" [6], enabling it to effectively address the complexities of contemporary challenges. Through an architectural lens, this empowers communities to reclaim pride in their town and village centres, while critically engaging with and acknowledging the complex histories often embedded within these spaces.
This revalorisation of built heritage in our towns and villages should not be understood as a finite project, but rather as a continuous process in the ongoing effort to unravel the enduring structures of the colonial condition. Nor should it be seen as unattainable, as many communities have already transformed these buildings to produce socially engaged spaces befitting of the communities in which they serve. It would be disingenuous to suggest that colonialism alone causes dereliction and decay across our urban spaces. There are many active elements within our own creation that drive this process. However, it is important to recognise the significance of this unique dynamic and the complexities it introduces, particularly when compared to our European neighbours with which Ireland is frequently and, at times, too readily compared.
It is not an exaggeration when Mulvin says, “the conservation and sustainable development of Irish towns [...] could be Ireland’s significant contribution to world culture for the next number of years” [7]. The conservation of these spaces can be understood as an act of decolonial cultural agency that reclaims architectural narratives suppressed by imperial paradigms. Our built heritage identity can extend beyond modest thatched cottages and traditional cozy pubs to encompass structures such as market houses, Carnegie Libraries, bridewells, railway stations, and workhouses, which are often integral to the fabric of our towns. This, in turn, plays an essential role in confronting the monumental housing and climate crises that imperatively shape the trajectory of our future. By acknowledging and confronting the contemporary forces of colonialism, Ireland can move towards a future built on a foundation of ethical remembering, reconciliation, and celebrating of its built heritage. The proof of this will be thriving towns and villages that promote sustainable ways of living; a built heritage of which we can all be proud.
Ireland’s towns and villages reflect a rich but complex architectural legacy shaped by colonial history, post-independence ambivalence, and modern neglect. This articles argues for a socially engaged approach to heritage – one that embraces ethical remembrance and reclaims built environments as living spaces central to community, identity, and sustainable development.
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