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If every building tells a story, the lettering on its facade is the opening sentence. It’s the street number that tells you you’ve arrived at the correct place, the badge of authority on a headquarters, the epigraph that announces the LIBRARY, HOSPITAL, or COURTHOUSE. Facade signage provides a semiotic main entrance for users and passers-by, and is one of a building’s most prominent and visible features. And yet it’s frequently the part executed with the least skill and care. Exiled to the limbo of provisional costs, epigraphs and facade signs are usually dashed off by juniors or cranked out in-house at signage fabricators and slapped onto the completed building like a sticker. Often a building’s designers have no say in how it’s signed. And often, it shows.
It wasn’t always this way. The making and use of letters was once a standard part of architectural education, and a number of architects have made significant contributions to typography in their own right. Bertram Goodhue’s Cheltenham was one of the most popular typefaces of the early twentieth century. Peter Behrens treated architecture, industrial design, and graphic design as strands of a single gesamtkunstwerk, and the Behrensschrift he used for AEG is widely considered the first branding font. Frank Lloyd Wright, Arne Jacobsen, and Charles Rennie Mackintosh all developed distinctive letterforms that could operate as harmonious components of their work. And the iconic stacked facade letters of the Dessau Bauhaus were created by Gropius’s fellow architect Herbert Bayer.
This is not a Trad Guy plea for more Sainsbury Wing-style lapidary inscriptions (brilliant as Michael Harvey's lettercarving was) or a typographer’s special pleading for more prominent letters. (If anything, poorly designed facade signs are usually too shouty.) It’s a plea for recognition of type as a small but integral element in the making of good buildings. If architects are no longer trained to use letters, perhaps they should collaborate with people who are: sympathetic practitioners who understand how they can contribute to and support a building’s aims. While a few budgets allow for extensive typographic systems and even bespoke typefaces, for most jobs the fees charged by competent typographers are less than the costs of fabrication. For commercial clients, a building may be the most expensive brand statement they'll ever make; it's worth it to set aside a few quid to see that brand is properly represented. And when the budget only allows for off-the-shelf signage solutions, a trained typographer can help ensure these are chosen well and applied appropriately. What’s wanted is not a bigger role for letters in architecture, but a more considered one.
Present Tense is supported by the Arts Council through the Architecture Project Award Round 2 2022.
1. Source: A Practice for Everyday Life.
2. Source: St Peter's Basilica and Love in the City of Lights.
3. Source: Pentagram and Wallpaper.
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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