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According to Robert Parks, cities are "man’s most successful attempt to remake the world he lives in more after his heart’s desire"[1]. This definition may also go some way to illuminating a city's continued draw. In 2006, 50% of the world’s population lived in a city, however 68% of the population are projected to live in cities by 2050. In no small way, we all succumb to their bright lights. We hope to remake them, and in return, we hope that they will remake us.
If we are to remake, and be remade, we must ask ourselves what makes a city creative? Is it opulent bars and clubs posing as "literary salons" of the 20s, while charging a small fortune for some liquor and ice; is it through classification – labelling areas of a city as ‘creative’ for no reason other than its central location and abundance of overpriced shops and restaurants; or, is it something deeper, something harder won and, most dishearteningly, easily lost.
In Henri Lefevbre’s Right to the City, the author argues for the role of play and creativity in the face of work; positioning the place of play as belonging squarely in a city’s streets and public spaces where disorder, spectacle, and interaction abide [3]. I would propose that we should begin to harness our streets and public spaces for the latent power that they hold, and would suggest that the way to do this is through play. By reclaiming play as a right for everyone, adults and children alike, we may begin to reclaim our cities.
My inspiration for this article began in 2019 on a trip to Solingen in Germany. On this trip, I found myself walking through its Brückenpark. As well as appreciating this park for its natural beauty, I was drawn in by one particular and unique feature – a trail of ten riddles, designed and conceived for the park in 2006 by the artist Ulrike Böhme [4]. These riddles lie inscribed onto steel plates which are dotted and hidden around the park's expanse. They can be solved by stepping onto the metal plate and awaiting answer – told to you by a mysterious and disembodied voice. The act of stepping not only elicits a knowing nod and satisfied smile from the visitor, but also newfound knowledge of the location itself. Each panel contains not just a riddle, but also a story of connection to the area. They stand as an ode to time gone by, inviting thought, presence and, more than a little, intellectual challenge to current inhabitants.
This park, and the time I spent there with my friends and the playful challenges that it offered, have stayed with me for the four years that followed. Why this longstanding memory? The answer, I would contend, is play. Play that brings togetherness, slows, re-connects, and makes. Play that connects people to themselves, each other, and what is around them.
We can recognise numerous examples of play and its potential in a city’s fabric. It may exist in humorous incongruity, like a public living room found by a blustery pier [5], or it could be its wilful subversion of the mundane, whereby even the blandest objects become a game. In Marseilles, rubbish bins invite passers-by to "slam dunk" their drinks cans as they walk past [6]. Drawing attention to local examples of engagement with the creative benefits of play, it would be impossible not to mention the Irish not-for-profit organisation, A Playful City, whose focus lies in creating ore playful, healthy, and inclusive public spaces. Their work has included musical benches, or Beat Seats, in Hanover Quay in 2019, colourful zig-zag seating areas in Spencer dock, and ‘playful streets’ in Dublin’s inner city. The resounding feature of their methods is the level of community consultation. For play space, if inserted into an area and a community without consultation on the needs and desires of that community, is not play at all – it is a form of coercion, to be creative in a singular, expected way.
Dublin City Council’s Everywhere, any day, you can play! is a document full of hope. It outlines Dublin’s intention to develop a citywide play infrastructure in order to ensure that streets, places, and things are interwoven into children and young people’s everyday lives. My challenge for the strategy is this – why is this just for children? The strategy defines play as "any behaviour, activity or process, initiated, controlled or structured by children themselves, that takes place whenever and wherever opportunities arise". If the intention is to develop a citywide infrastructure of play, I believe it should have the intention of ensuring that play, and its numerous creative and sociological benefits, is accessible to everyone.
Technology has been harnessed to this end by London-based experience designers Pan Studios, who effectively co-opted its mediated engagement properties for more spontaneous ends. Their interactive 2013 initiative, Hello Lamp Post, invited a city’s walkers to engage in "conversation" with a city’s everyday objects and furniture, including lamp posts, post boxes, and parking metres. By texting a number with the objects’ unique codes, a user was "awoken" prompting questions and observations for the speaker to reply to – with future activations built into each reply. Hello Lamp Post debuted in Bristol and has since been seen in Austin, Texas, and Tokyo [9].
The answer, however, does not lie solely in technology. It lies in a willingness to think outside the box and to embrace the city as a space of potential for all. In the words of Jen Harvie, "everything means more than one thing – a nondescript doorway, invisible for some, is for others the gate to a magical garden, a place of work, worship or otherwise". For stronger communities, more creative cities, and happier citizens – let us play.
Present Tense is supported by the Arts Council through the Architecture Project Award Round 2 2022.
1. R. Parks, On Social Control and Collective Behavior, Chicago, 1967, cited in D. Harvey, ‘The Right to the City’, New Left Review, no. 53, 2008.
2. United Nations: Department of Economic and Social Affairs [website], 2018 https://www.un.org/development/desa/en/news/population/2018-revision-of-world-urbanization-prospects.html (accessed 3rd March 2023).
3. H. Lefevbre, Writings on Cities, Oxford: Blackwell, 1996, cited in J. Harvie, Theatre & the city, Hampshire, Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, p. 52.
4. U. Boehme ‘Müngsten riddle’ [website], 2006 http://ulrike-boehme.de/installationen/muengstener-raetsel/ (accessed 3rd March 2023).
5. E. Crabbe, ‘Pop-up living room coming to Brighton Palace Pier and Whitehawk’, The Argus, [online article], 2023, https://www.theargus.co.uk/news/23334069.pop-up-living-room-coming-brighton-palace-pier-whitehawk/ (accessed 4th March 2023)
6. Playground [website], 2011, https://www.the-wabsite.com/works/playground (accessed 3rd March 2023)
7. ‘Hello Lamp Post’, Playable City [website], 2013, https://www.playablecity.com/projects/hello-lamp-post/ (accessed 3rd March 2023).
8. A Playful City [website], https://www.aplayfulcity.com/ (accessed 3rd March 2023).
9. Dublin City Council, ‘Everywhere, Any Day, You Can Play!’ Dublin City Play Strategy 2022-2027, 2022, https://www.dublincity.ie/sites/default/files/2022-10/Play%20Strategy%202022.pdf (accessed 2nd March 2023).
10. J. Harvie, Theatre & the city, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, p. xii.
In 2015, an estimated one million people entered Europe in search of a better life [1]. Driven by conflict and hardship in regions across Africa and the Middle East, refugees and migrants began establishing migratory routes, with many first arriving in southern European cities like Athens. I visited Athens in October 2015, when borders were still open, and the impact of the influx was palpable. Migrants gathered in public spaces across the city, waiting for the opportunity to continue northward. Nearly a decade later, Dublin has emerged as one of their chosen destinations.
Smog regularly shrouds the identity of the city of Athens and, like the negated identity of the city, the migrant’s individualism is hidden within the general term of ‘refugee’ or ‘migrant’. Like migrants in Dublin, they are an overlooked presence in society. The vast numbers that appropriate the streets reach a saturation point, and their excessive visibility normalises their vulnerability; their neglected state goes unnoticed.
The urban fabric of Athens is shaped by the polykatoikia, a residential typology that forms a homogenous concrete landscape symbolising structure and order. The ground floors of these buildings, often housing commercial shops, typically extend out toward the street, with storefronts showcasing goods to entice both locals and tourists. However, amid Greece's economic recession many of these commercial units were left vacant, creating spaces that had relinquished their original purpose, with residential space occupied above.
In Dublin, the inverse is present – streets become inhabited, and homes fall to ruin. Buildings lie dormant, shops remain shuttered, and migrants occupy the space outside in public parks, neglected street corners, and undercrofts between city blocks. Deprived of formal spaces, they adapt – carving out niches within these leftover spaces. Here, new uses arise, as migrants imprint a new meaning onto these areas, illustrating de Certeau’s notion of space defined “by its users, not by its makers” [2]. These urban inversions reveal social functions, and the inequalities, embedded within the city’s structure.
One can observe the migrant to be trapped, both literally and metaphorically, somewhere between their homeland and their future home, belonging to neither. For many, Athens is but a transitory stop en route to final destinations like Dublin. In both cities, the streets become waiting rooms, as migrants tend to slip into the interstitial spaces clustering together where the city is void of life. Since Covid, city centre occupation has been cast aside by Athenian and Dubliner, in favour of the suburbs and a working-from-home culture. This exodus has created ambiguous spaces that “belong to everybody and nobody” [3], allowing for alternative forms of occupation by those without other options. These spaces of leisure, such as city squares or pedestrian zones designed for strolling, dining, and sightseeing, juxtapose with migrants’ makeshift domestic activities – sleeping in public parks, bathing at public fountains, or scavenging for food. Migrants, like discarded objects, can become “matter out of place” [4], and in their new context they are overlooked because their new identity has yet to be defined. These “waiting rooms” underscore the migrants' vulnerability and the visible yet unnoticed aspect of their existence.
In both Dublin and Athens, everyday life subtly reveals the social contrasts shaping these cities. Simple acts like airing laundry highlight the divisions within society. In more affluent areas of Athens and Dublin, laundry retracts internally, as some regard the obtrusive display of laundry as a marker of poverty and disorder. In the more affluent areas of Athens, the balcony is no longer associated with domestic chores but with leisure. The allocation of additional space internally and economic provision of dryers allows the task to be internalised. In contrast, the polykatoikia facades serve as supports for drying racks, with undergarments displayed unashamedly beside household linens, giving glimpses of the inhabitants’ lives. The facades of the polykatoikia recede, drawing focus to the laundry and blurring the boundary between public and private realms.
For migrants, the technique of laundry is radically transformed, driven by their context and estranged from their origin. The lack of resources and mechanisms to launder obliges the migrant to forsake the clothes they choose so carefully for their journey. Their acceptance of donated clothing is an initial signifier of their acceptance, whether willing or not, of a new social identity in their host country. Once they find a stabilising presence, their clothes become suspended on incongruous objects that once restricted movement – such as chain-link fences. Like the migrant’s identity which has been altered, the chain-link fence is read anew, and hints at their creativity in repurposing their context.
Whether the clothes are draped over a fence, or hung on balconies of the polykatoikia balconies, the smoggy air of Athens knows no boundaries and it subjects the migrant, the local, and the tourist to the same atmospheric conditions – creating an invisible platform of equivalence, curbing any difference previously uncovered through the indexical system of laundry. In Dublin, the same conditions must also emerge.
In this article, Shelly Rourke explores migratory patterns of movement and inhabitation, through reflection on both Athens and Dublin, and the inequalities inherent within these patterns – inequalities of both social displacement and of the structures repurposed to allow a modicum of normality in people's daily lives.
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Irish vernacular architecture, characterised by its thoughtful integration with the landscape, offers more than just aesthetic value; it embodies a philosophy of living that is both environmentally sustainable and culturally meaningful. As contemporary society increasingly prioritises sustainability and the preservation of cultural identity, these traditional practices provide essential insights that can inform modern architectural approaches.
Vernacular dwellings, which are often overlooked as outdated, are in fact sophisticated examples of sustainable design and construction. These structures were carefully crafted using locally sourced materials, such as stone, wood, and thatch – chosen not only for their ready availability but also for their ability to harmonise with the surrounding environment. The design of these buildings was inherently responsive to the local climate and cultural context, while features like thick stone walls provided natural insulation and thatched roofs offered superior thermal performance and ventilation. Despite their historical significance and environmental value, many of these buildings have been neglected as rural areas have faced depopulation, and modern construction methods have become the norm.
The recent revival of interest in vernacular architecture presents a unique opportunity for architects to explore and reimagine sustainable practices grounded in local traditions. By preserving and adapting these traditional structures, architects can address pressing issues such as the erosion of local cultures, the need for sustainable building practices, and the challenge of integrating new construction into historically and environmentally sensitive areas along with delivering much needed development to rural regions of the country. These buildings serve as living examples of how architecture can be both functional and reflective of a community’s identity, providing models for how contemporary design can engage with historical context in a meaningful way.
The preservation and study of Ireland’s vernacular buildings offer significant lessons for both renovation and new construction. These structures should not be seen as relics of the past, but rather should become deeply embedded in the cultural and environmental fabric of the landscape. They represent a way of building that is resourceful, respectful of the natural world, and intimately connected to the land. The durability and effectiveness of local materials which have been proven through their long-standing use could be embraced and their use supported, with stone walls, thatched roofs, and lime plasters stand as both functional and aesthetically compelling construction elements.
Vernacular construction methods can also be seen to inform modern architectural practices. For example, an emphasis on using locally sourced materials can reduce the environmental footprint of construction projects, whilst also supporting local economies and fostering a sense of community. This approach encourages a rethinking of contemporary building practices, moving away from the reliance on generic, mass-produced materials toward those that are contextually appropriate and environmentally sustainable. The RIAI Guidelines for the Conservation of Buildings [1] offers practical guidelines on how architects can achieve this balance between creating modern homes, and preserving both the heritage and character of these buildings.
For architects, the study and application of vernacular buildings offers a profound opportunity to engage with issues of sustainability, cultural preservation, and environmental stewardship. The principles of vernacular architecture provide a valuable framework for re-thinking the relationship between the built environment and the natural world. The revival of traditional practices should not simply an exercise in historical preservation; it should be a forward-looking strategy that can inform the development of buildings and communities that are resilient, sustainable, and culturally resonant.
As Ireland continues to navigate the challenges of introducing advanced construction methodologies, the need to balance progress with preservation has become increasingly critical. Guides like Caring for our Vernacular Heritage [2] offers a model for achieving this balance, providing a blueprint for creating buildings that are sustainable, culturally significant, and connected to the their place. By embracing these principles, the architectural community in Ireland and beyond can foster the development of homes and communities that are not only functional, but also living embodiments of the landscape and culture from which they emerge.
The exploration of vernacular architecture should not merely be academic exercise, but should form a vital practice, significantly informing the ‘making’ of architecture. These traditional methods, rooted in a deep understanding of the environment and culture, offer invaluable lessons for contemporary architecture. Traditional skills are required to achieve this type of architecture, and these skills should be fostered through apprenticeship programmes, and the development of guideline documents such as the RIAI Skills Matrix for Conservation Projects. As we look to the future, drawing on this rich heritage will be essential in creating buildings and communities that are sustainable, culturally rich, and deeply connected to the natural world. Through reimagining the principles of the past, as architects, we can build a present that honours and preserves Ireland’s architectural legacy, ensuring that it remains a living, breathing part of the landscape for generations to come.
Ireland’s architectural heritage is a reflection of the country’s deep connection to its natural environment and cultural roots. In this article, Ellen Meaney explores the value of Irish vernacular architecture – through connections to the landscape, its sustainable credentials, and the materials of its making.
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During the past thirty years, the systems established by the Building Control Act 1992 have failed to prevent widespread significant defects in Irish housing, particularly apartments. The 2022 Report of the Working Group to Examine Defects in Housing found that 40-70% of all apartments built between 1991 and 2014 were likely affected by fire safety defects, and 50%-80% might be affected by one or more of fire safety, structural safety, or water ingress [1]. In this context, the announcement in June 2024 that a national Building Regulator is to be established is most welcome – but will it be sufficient to change a building and compliance culture established over decades?
The creation of a regulator is an objective of the current Programme for Government and was recommended by the Building Standards Regulator Steering Group report of June 2024, which envisages an independent central competent authority with the powers of a national building control authority (“BCA”) and to ensure the adequate and consistent delivery of building control services, inspection and enforcement, to coordinate and provide support services to local authorities, and to ensure adequate inspection and enforcement of market surveillance of construction products [2]. The regulator is also intended to act as a repository of best practice – driving, promoting, and fostering compliance competency, and consistency, and building control.
When I appeared before the Oireachtas housing committee in 2017, I advocated for the creation of such a body with those powers, and emphasised in particular the need for local building control bodies to be overseen by a national regulator; the resulting committee report recommended creation of a regulator in almost identical terms to that now proposed [3].
I found in the course of my PhD research that enforcement activity by building control authorities nationally was sparse to non-existent, that there was no central repository of enforcement activity, and that most building control authorities were simply not resourced to carry out the level of inspections and enforcement needed for the system to be effective.
I had found no evidence of any prosecutions ever being brought under the Building Control Act during the course of my PhD. Since then, I note that in the 2022 annual report for Dublin City Council that two prosecutions were initiated by that authority in 2022. I do not equate prosecution with effectiveness, but all of the international models and Irish models in other regulated industries show that effective and visible enforcement is an essential part of any regulated system.
A fundamental requirement for the effectiveness of the regulator will be to ensure that it is resourced and staffed appropriately. The steering group report notes that in April 2023 there were fifty-eight full-time equivalent building control officers nationally, while suggesting that the new regulatory body will need around five-hundred staff. The steering group noted that 27% of new buildings were inspected in 2021. This means that the vast majority of new buildings are being inspected only by individuals who are appointed, and paid for, by owner/developers.
The findings and recommendations of the Hackitt reports [4] and the Grenfell Tower Inquiry [5] have led to dramatic changes to the organisation of building control in the UK. The Hackitt report of May 2018 found that the current regulatory system for ensuring fire safety in high-rise and complex buildings was not fit for purpose both during construction and occupation, due to the culture of the industry and effectiveness of regulators. A new regulatory framework was recommended to cover fire and structural safety for the life-cycle of a building recorded in a digital record, focusing on the building as a system and analysing risk accordingly.
The UK Building Safety Act 2022 creates the new statutory role of building regulator, establishes a regime for higher risk buildings, provides an extensive regime for remediation of defects, establishes a New Homes Ombudsman, and deals with regulation of construction products and regulation of inspectors. The Act incorporates governance of the building life cycle in into three gateways, including planning and design, construction, and occupation, thereby adopting the recommendation of the Hackitt report that a “golden thread” of information relation to building safety should be created and maintained, and should inform all future interventions in that building.
It is surprising that the Irish Steering Group report does not refer to the Hackitt and Grenfell reports and the comprehensive overhaul of UK building regulation that led to the Building Safety Act 2022.
The Phase 2 (and final) report of the Grenfell Tower Inquiry was published in September 2024. Amongst its many recommendations are that the Government appoint an independent panel to consider whether it is in the public interest for building control functions to be performed by those who have a commercial interest in the process; this issue is also raised in the Hackitt reports. The Building Control (Amendment) Regulations system introduced in Ireland in 2014, often presented as the turning-point for cultural change in Irish building regulation, is designed to operate on this basis; designers and certifiers are appointed and paid for by developers and building owners themselves.
It is vital that the regulatory model put in place should be informed by our recent history, international models for effective building regulation, and of the lessons learned elsewhere. Lives have been destroyed by building defects in Ireland. It is time to recognise the scale of what is required, and to apply ourselves to designing an effective model that will meet the enormous demand for new homes into the future.
With the recent announcement that a national Building Regulator is to be established, Dr. Deirdre Ní Fhloinn examines what led us here, and pathways to improved regulatory control.
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