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Proiectul de locuinţe al
anilor ‘60 privit ca patrimoniu cultural
Eva Löfgren
Organizarea
suedeză şi scopul proiectului “Oraşul”
În Suedia
conservarea clădirilor este organizată pe trei niveluri principale:
naţional (Consiliul Naţional al Patrimoniului), regional
(departamentul Conservare al Administraţiei Regionale şi muzeele
regionale) şi local (muzeele locale, asociaţiile locale de arte
şi meserii, oficiul local de planificare).
În anul
1998 guvernul social democrat suedez a prezentat un proiect numit “Dezvoltare
şi dreptate – o politică pentru oraşul secolului 21”, proiect ce
avea ca principal scop ameliorarea calităţii vieţii
populaţiei din zonele mărginaşe ale oraşelor Stockholm,
Gothenburg şi Malmö, zone sărace construite în anii ’60 şi
’70.
Acţiunea
s-a dovedit mai profundă, prin implicarea Consiliului Naţional al
Patrimoniului, departamentul conservare, al cărui rol ar fi fost
schimbarea mentalităţii comune (clasa de mijloc) asupra acelor zone
defavorizate şi a locuitorilor acestora, prin sublinierea
calităţilor arhitecturii existente şi încercarea de a integra
aceste zone în societatea segregată. S-a născut astfel proiectul
Oraşul.
Reacţia
presei a fost, în mare parte, defavorabilă, acţiunea de conservare
fiind privită ca o nefericită încercare de a neantiza
diferenţele sociale şi chiar ca o “expediţie imperialistă
în junglă”. Cu acelaşi ochi critic a fost privită şi ideea
implicării locuitorilor zonelor respective în catalogarea şi
stabilirea valorii clădirilor (activitate rezervată strict
profesioniştilor) care, oricum, constituie un exemplu de arhitectură
de proastă calitate ce nu poate fi considerată ca având valoare
istorică.
Proiectul de locuinţe al anilor ’60
Pentru cei
ce nu ştiu, Suedia nu are metropole: Stockholm are în jur de 1,7 milioane
de locuitori, Gothenburg 500.000 iar Malmo, aproximativ 280.000. Aproape 50%
dintre suedezi locuiesc în aceste zone şi numărul lor continuă
să crească. După al doilea război mondial oraşele
Suediei au fost practic invadate de forţă de muncă din
Iugoslavia şi Italia, fapt ce a pus problema locuinţelor. Astfel, în
1962, leaderul social-democrat Tage Erlander a promis construirea unui milion
de locuinţe în doar 10 ani. Proiectul a fost, într-adevăr realizat,
rămânând în istorie sub numele de “programul Milion”. Arhitectura
locuinţelor acestor cartiere, dezvoltate ca “sateliţi” ai centrului
oraşului, nu era diferită de cea a locuinţelor construite în
anii ’50 (câteva etaje cu faţada din cărămidă roşie
sau galbenă, acoperiş din ţiglă). Ceea ce contravenea
standardelor suedeze era însa numărul lor şi proporţiile
structurii.
Cartierul
Bergsjon a beneficiat de un “tratament” estetic şi funcţional
special, arhitectura şi facilităţile locuinţelor venind în
întâmpinarea dorinţelor şi nevoilor omului obişnuit al
viitorului: forme arhitecturale (şi chiar denumiri) inspirate de era
spaţială, spaţii de joacă pentru copii în manieră
futuristă, respectiv parcări pe mai multe nivele, acces special
pentru persoanele cu handicap, ascensoare exterioare.
Ulterior
insă, o parte din aceste noi cartiere, printre care şi Bergsjon, au
căpătat o reputaţie proastă, iar din punct de vedere
politic proiectul Milion a fost aspru criticat atât de aripa stângă, cât
şi de cea dreaptă.
Treizeci de
ani mai târziu ideile politice şi locuitorii acestor zone s-au schimbat.
Comunitatea deţine din ce in ce mai puţine locuinţe, multe fiind
vândute asociaţiilor de chiriaşi sau proprietarilor de bunuri
imobiliare. Deşi structural construcţiile au rămas practic
neschimbate, suburbiile anilor ’60 au evoluat în direcţii diferite, atât
din punct de vedere arhitectural cât şi social, oglindind o perioadă
importantă din istoria modernă a Suediei, având astfel o
necontestată valoare istorică. Totuşi, ezităm atunci când
ni se cere să le păstrăm.
Moştenirea
culturală, etică şi democraţie
Proiectul
“Oraşul” şi-a propus să cerceteze tocmai raţiunea acestei
ezitări, având ca principal scop evidenţierea aspectelor pozitive
legate de aceste zone de locuinţe.
Acţiunea
a început cu o asiduă muncă de documentare şi cercetare a
planurilor, structurii, arhitecturii şi istoricului clădirilor
însă, curând, am realizat că limitând implicarea în proiect la
reprezentanţii departamentului conservare, rezultatele ar fi interesat
strict acest segment redus. În consecinţă s-a procedat la abordarea
etnologică a problemei, prin aportul activ al locuitorilor cartierelor
respective: s-au organizat întâlniri în aer liber în care s-au purtat
discuţii cu locuitorii acelor clădiri, discuţii centrate pe
simbolurile locale (astfel am ascultat povestea locurilor şi
construcţiilor), oamenii au fost dotaţi cu aparate foto şi
încurajaţi să surprindă imagini ale locurilor care, în opinia
lor, ar fi avut semnificaţie, discutându-se apoi motivaţia alegerii fiecăruia.
Scopul nostru final a fost integrarea informaţiilor obţinute în
documentele elaborate de noi, specialiştii, şi punerea lor la
dispoziţia proiectanţilor şi a membrilor Consiliului.
Socoteala
de acasă nu se potriveşte cu cea din târg…
Cartierul Bergsjon
a fost una din cele patru zone în care am ales să lucrăm. Situat în
nordul Gothenburgului la aproximativ 15 km de centru, cartierul are o geografie
deluroasă, şi poartă numele unui lac ce, până la
iniţierea proiectului “Milion”, era situat în mijlocul
sălbăticiei şi înconjurat de câteva căsuţe, un peisaj
dezolant şi sărăcăcios ce nu oferea nici măcar
perspective agricole.
Între anii
1965 şi 1971, Bergsjon s-a dezvoltat rapid, în ciuda topografiei ce a pus
serioase probleme proiectanţilor devenind, pentru masa oamenilor aşa
zis obişnuiţi, paradigma abuzului şi a crimei, un loc ce
teoretic nu făcea parte din oraş nici geografic, nici social.
Când eu
şi colegul meu am păşit pentru prima oară în Bergsjon,
fuseserăm avertizaţi că vom întâlni doar ostilitatea unor
indivizi săraci, şomeri, nerăbdători sa
părăsească acel loc, indivizi care locuiau în clădiri prost
întreţinute pe care, culmea, noi am fi dorit să le introducem în
patrimoniul cultural. A discuta despre valorile arhitecturii sau despre
părculeţele futuriste cu acei oameni părea ridicol şi poate
chiar o cruzime.
Spre
surprinderea noastră, oamenii doreau să discute, să-şi
împărtăşească amintirile şi opiniile asupra a ceea ce
ar putea fi moştenirea culturală a Bergsjonului. Am avut acces la
fotografii de familie, la arhive ale bibliotecii locale, chiar am discutat cu
un bătrân arhitect care lucrase la proiectarea cartierului în 1964. Mai
mult, rezultatele obţinute de noi au fost incluse într-o lucrare
elaborată de doi profesori entuziaşti, rezidenţi ai
Bergsjonului, practic un dosar deschis completărilor, ce povesteşte
în imagini şi text istoria cartierului de odinioară, o
adevărată carte de istorie oferită chiar spre vânzare la sediul
consiliului local.
Concluzii
Concluziile
acţiunii noastre poate nu sunt revoluţionare, dar ne-au deschis ochii
asupra unor aspecte interesante.
În primul
rând, ca urmare a implicării publicului în munca noastră de
cercetare, am învăţat să privim istoria dintr-o nouă
perspectivă.
În al
doilea rând, ne-am amintit că munca de conservare are încă la
bază principiul esteticii: locuinţele construite în anii ’60
rămân, în opinia publică, eşuate în sfera neinteresantului sau
chiar a hidosului, în ciuda eforturilor unor istorici de artă de a le
proteja şi reabilita.
Am
înţeles, de asemenea, şi faptul că dacă dorim sa rescriem o
istorie care să cuprindă şi aceste zone cu reputaţie
proastă, pe care mulţi specialişti în conservare le găsesc
neinteresante, trebuie să implicăm toţi cetăţenii
oraşului, nu doar rezidenţii acelor zone.
In sfârşit, proiectul
“Oraşul” ne-a dezvăluit importanţa disocierii muncii de
documentare de cea de conservare, mai ales când este vorba de spaţii pe
care opinia publică le găseşte incomode sau ameninţătoare.
Nu propun distrugerea cartierelor construite în anii ’60, dar nici nu pot lupta
pentru conservarea acestor zone care nu pot, sau nu trebuie introduse în
patrimoniul cultural, tocmai pentru că societatea, şi în
speţă locuitorii lor, le consideră distructive (locuitorii
Bergsjonului spun că “este foarte important să ne amintim” dar
că “lucrurile trebuie să se schimbe pentru că viaţa merge
înainte”).
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Yesterday’s tomorrow
does not fit
Swedish housing project
of the 1960’s viewed as a cultural heritage
Eva Löfgren
Swedish
organisation and the goals of the City project
In Sweden, conservation of built environment is organised
in mainly three levels: the national, the regional and the local. Taxes finance
most of the activities directly or indirectly, partly with the exception of
archaeology, which is often paid by construction firms or even private persons.
At a national level, the National Heritage Board answers for surveys, support
and to some extent, research. The research I am doing on courthouses for
example is partly financed by the National Heritage Boards.
On a regional level there are mainly two actors, the
conservation unit of the County Administration and the regional museums. The
County Administration is responsible for the observance of the laws and decrees
regarding the material cultural heritage. It is also distributing subsidies to
preservation projects within the county. The regional museums on their hand,
normally present a wide range of activities, from conservation of the material
and immaterial heritage, to exhibitions concerning current issues. They work as
free institutions but since they receive state grants, they have certain
obligations related to the legislation. Finally, on a local level we find the
small town museums, local arts-and-crafts associations and of course the town
planning office, which is often co-operating with the museums when working with
buildings and blocks of historic value.
In 1998 the Swedish social-democrat government presented a
bill “Development and justice – a policy for the city of the 21st century”. It
aimed at improving living conditions in the three major city regions of Sweden:
Stockholm, Gothenburg and Malmö. The measures that were taken as a result of
the bill, focused on enterprises and employment and they all had an integrating
aspect since segregation was identified as one of the main problems of the
city. The measures focused on specific areas of the city regions, namely the
districts that were built during the 1960’s and 70’s. The reason was that
people in many of these areas were unemployed and, according to statistics, had
lower income and were more often in need of medical care than the average.
By chance, the National Heritage Board was also
commissioned to participate in this work, indeed on a small budget compared to
the other departments, but the gesture was important and revealed a new
perspective on historic sites and conservation matters. For the first time
national politics linked conservation to other areas in society, looking at our
work as something which truly and in a very tangible way, affects peoples’
values and their view of history and themselves.
The sector dealing with the cultural heritage was one of
several sectors appointed to promote more integrated housing areas. The actual
assignment of the conservation sector was to help improve living conditions of
modern housing, that is from the 1960’s and 70’s, by throwing light upon the
qualities of the existing architecture and increase citizen influence
over local planning and preservation.
Up until now, the housing areas affected by conservation
activities have normally been highly valued by the rest of society. Weather it
is the public opinion which draws us to the object, or we who create the public
opinion, is hard to tell. Whatever the reason, it seems as when we turn our
savant eyes to a building or a site; its reputation is automatically good. This
process might have constituted the bottom of the sector’s involvement in the
City bill. Maybe our presence in these areas could improve their reputation
among so called ordinary people, which are the wealthy middle-class. And maybe,
our noticing these areas could make people who live there feel more proud of
their environment. I cannot say if this is a proper description of the
background, but it certainly was the interpretation of some of the critics.
First of all there was a general scepticism towards
defining these areas as part of our cultural heritage, at least as a part we
should pay attention to. Other critics argued that conservation work cannot
change the social inequalities of which the bad reputed city areas are only a
symptom. Viewed from such a perspective, the project appeared cynical,
functioning only as a poor substitute for what was really needed. One magazine
even wrote, “The middle-class goes slumming”, suggesting that our work could be
compared with an imperialist expedition to the jungle. Other critics pointed at
the fact that it is not the bad reputed areas that are the worst examples of
segregation, but the well reputed which are the ones upholding the reputation
of the others. The integrating measures should therefore be taken within the
posh estates, which in Sweden are built during the late 19th or
early 20th century.
Many conservation officers also criticised the idea that
inhabitants were to participate in the describing and valuing of historic
environments, a task, which they argued, should be done only by professionals.
Some people also claimed that the housing of the 1960’s and 70’s is an example
of bad quality architecture, which cannot be considered of historic value.
Housing
project of the 1960’s
To those of you who do not know Sweden, it is a country
lacking large cities. Stockholm has about 1.7 million inhabitants, Gothenburg
about 500 000 and Malmö 280.000 which, compared to Berlin or Paris, are fairly
small. Still, nearly 50 % of the Swedes live in one of these areas, and more
people are constantly moving in. A majority of all new housing areas today, are
constructed in the cities and nearly all of them are built for tenant-owners.
In the 1960’s though, the vast majority of all newly
constructed apartments were built and owned by the community. Similar to the
rest of Europe, one of the greatest periods of expansion of the three cities
was the decades after the Second World War. At the time, Sweden was a high profit
working machine, inviting labour from Italy and Yugoslavia in order to fill the
expanding factories and ship yards. Housing problems were overwhelming and
demanded extensive political efforts. During the elections of 1962,
social-democrat leader Tage Erlander made the promise to construct 1 million
new homes in only ten years time, a promise that was fulfilled between 1965 and
1974. The venture became history under the name of the Million programme.
According to the ideals of the time, the areas grew up as
satellites at some distance from the city. In Gothenburg, were I work, the most
distant of the suburbs was built about 20 kilometres from the centre, which
means that most of the areas were quite close to centre.
A majority of the housing areas in Gothenburg were built in
a style that is rather traditional - three storeys with yellow or red brick
facades and roofing tiles, and at first, neither the structure of the areas,
nor the actual architecture differed from the applauded housing of the 1950’s. These
were not huge buildings, what were huge by Swedish standards were the number of
them, and the proportions of the structure.
By the end of this period housing problems were under
control, and most Swedes had required a high living standard including a
spacious and healthy apartment and a car. Some of them moved from very poor
conditions, tiny apartments lacking both water and electricity, to standards as
modern as today. The first settlers remember the period as full of optimism and
spirit of community; all of them moving in at the same time-sharing the same
troubles and hopes.
The district of Bergsjön, which I will return to later, was
one of the new city districts, which was built in a particularly modern way. It
was planned to fill the needs of ordinary and rational people of the future and
had multi-storey car parks dimensioned for two cars per family. Outdoors lifts,
automatic conveyor belts and asphalt varnished footpaths for people with
physical handicaps were spread out in the vast and mountainous woods.
Futuristically sculptured playgrounds and bob-sleigh tracks in the slopes were
arranged for the future children, and three shopping centres were built in
order to serve the supposed 20000 inhabitants. Architectural forms were
inspired by the space age, streets, squares and tram-stations being named after
space. Space square is still the name of the principal meeting place in
Bergsjön, Comet square another, Atmosphere street, Meteor street etc. The new
housing areas were not only modern compared to former conditions, many
of them were built for a future that people at that time could not possibly
imagine.
What is important to remember though, is that several of
these new city districts, Bergsjön among others, were immediately afflicted with
a bad reputation. The whole social-democrat housing project of the 1960’s was
criticised along with the rational construction methods giving mediocre
results. Politically, the criticism came both from the right and the left wing
and at the bottom, it was also a criticism aiming at the modern way of life
with its commuting and its new family types.
Thirty years later, political ideals as well as the
inhabitants of these city districts have changed. The community owns less and
less housing estates since many of them are being sold to tenant-owner’s
associations and other private house owners. The suburbs of the sixties have
developed in different directions, both architecturally and socially. What is
common for them all though, is that the actual building structure has gone
through very few changes. These are well-preserved environments, representing
an important period in modern Swedish history, and in that aspect, possessing
an undisputed historic value. Yet we hesitate when asked to preserve them.
Cultural
heritage, ethics and democracy
The City project tried to examine this hesitation. As I
mentioned before the project was based on the assignment formulated in the City
bill of 1998 and its first object was to illustrate and bring forward the
qualities of the modern housing areas.
Since the districts had never been described, the first
year of the project was spent documenting and doing research. As to the
question of which kind of information we were supposed to collect, there
were great differences of opinion but the final result was a thoroughly
traditional history of the architecture; facts concerning year of construction,
name of the planner and the architect, characteristics of the planning
structure and the architecture. Ethnological methods were left aside and our
version of the housing areas was therefore entirely based on an interpretation
of the architectural forms and data.
“This procedure is part of our task and public function”,
claimed most conservation officers, art historians and architects when
discussing the documentation methods. “This is not enough”, responded others.
It is not a democratic way of writing history, and it is not enough to secure
the qualities of the architecture either. In order to write a legitimate
version of history it must be written by several hands, and it takes consensus
to preserve the cultural heritage. If no one but conservation officers are
involved in writing the story of the 1960’s housing areas, no one but
conservation officers will find them worth preserving.
The discussion was also aroused by the second object of the
City project, which was to find methods that involve the public in the process
of writing down history, and preserving the cultural heritage. Setting out from
this idea of a joint venture my colleagues and I at the county administration
chose four various environments in and around Gothenburg, were we contacted the
inhabitants and asked for participation. The purpose was to write down the
history of their own environment by putting together our macro-perspective and
their local knowledge.
Our approach was basically ethnological. We applied several different methods in
order to get in touch with people and document their stories and opinions. We carried out organised walks during which the
participants, instead of being lectured by us, were asked to tell their story
of the sites and buildings we visited. Another way of gaining information was
to distribute cheap disposable cameras and encourage the participants to
photograph places, which they found particularly, charged with local
importance. Later on we collected the pictures and met the photographers to
discuss their choice of motives. We also had regular interviews with people,
both single persons and whole groups, interviews which centred on local
happenings and symbols. Our goal was to integrate the information we obtained
into the ordinary conservation documents, and make it accessible to planners
and officers.
Yesterday’s
tomorrow doesn’t fit
The city district of Bergsjön was one of the areas we chose
to work in. The district is situated in the north of Gothenburg, about 15
kilometres from the centre, and is characterised by its hilly topography and
dramatic scenery. Before the new housing areas were built, Bergsjön was the name
of a lake in the middle of the wilderness. A few cottages were spread in the
woods but the district was considered desolate and quite poor since there was
no arable land. In spite of the steep hills causing serious trouble to planners
and construction firms, Bergsjön grew up fast between 1965 and 1971. The
headlines already spoke of troubles and crimes and it did not take long before
Bergsjön had become a word of abuse, a lost and distressing place in the eyes
of the so called ordinary people, a city area which was not included in the
city, neither geographically nor socially.
Today, media is often trying to improve the reputation of
Bergsjön, by referring sunny news from the district, some of them so sunny that
it becomes clear to everyone that this is a highly exposed area. At the same
time as the articles tell sunshine stories, other articles deals with for
example security issues in the suburb, as if people were supposed to feel
insecure.
When my college and I went to Bergsjön for the first time,
we were told that people living there are tired of projects and sceptic of
young academic social reformers. We felt stupid and shy, dragging around our
talk about cultural heritage and historic preservation when many of the
buildings were badly maintained, people we met did not have any job, or had
lost their parents in a war far away. Furthermore, 25 % of all
Bergsjön-inhabitants are moving to another district every year, which means
that many of the existing inhabitants are eager to get away from the place. To discuss
values of the architecture or the futuristic playground seemed at first almost
ridiculous and maybe cruel.
But it turned out that people were interested in what we
wanted to discuss. They shared their memories and had specific opinions on how
to define the cultural heritage of Bergsjön. The result of our discussions and
talks was included in a work that was done earlier by two enthusiastic teachers
living in the district. They had begun making a refill history book on
Bergsjön. This refill history book was in fact a plain loose-leaf binder, which
they filled with information, stories and pictures of the area as it was before
the 1960’s. The binder can be bought in the local district centre, and is used
by the schools and the library. The purpose of these teachers, which we
pursued, was to currently fill the binder with information and memories people
in Bergsjön find important.
What we did was to collect information by meeting people in
their homes and in different club rooms, borrowing private photos and pictures,
looking into press archives and the local library. We met with one of the old
architects who planned and drew in 1964, and we also interviewed people who had
grown up in the district and moved away and others who had never lived there but
worked in the district ever since it was built.
Conclusions
The conclusion of our work might not be revolutionary, but
it opened our eyes on some interesting facts. First of all, and not
surprisingly, we achieved a much fuller version of history by working with the
public compared to working all by ourselves. It goes without saying.
Secondly we were reminded of the fact that conservation
work today is still very much a question of aesthetics. Most of the time we
deal with objects considered being pretty and harmless. Even the industrial
buildings are seen as beautiful, and even when we write about the local gallows
hill, we do not find it offending, not anymore, it is too old. But when it comes to the housing areas of
the 1960’s things are different. Public opinion finds it hideous, even those
who live in the buildings. When describing them they express themselves in
words such as: “despite the buildings, this is a good place to live in”, or “I
cannot understand what those planners were thinking of, but we like it here
anyway”.
A few years ago there was a debate concerning the paintwork
of a housing area in Stockholm, built during the Million programme. The
inhabitants had chosen to paint their buildings in a colour that did not correspond
to the architecture of the 60’s and when the art-historians criticised this
fact, they were called elitists and snobs. Most people took sides against the
them, and the inhabitants won the battle. The incident shows many things. Had
it been a mansion built in the 18th century, it would not
have made the headlines. A mansion would have an obvious status of a historic
site, and thereby be looked at nearly as public property. The intervention of
an art historian would then have been considered proper. But in the housing
areas of the 1960’s, it is not.
The differences between previously preserved objects and
the modern housing areas are many. Old windows for example that are to be
preserved are only considered impractical – not ugly. And most farmers would
probably keep their historically interesting but obsolete barns if they only
had the means. Finally, when people defended the old city-blocks in the 1970’s
they found them very appealing even though the buildings needed to be restored. The modern housing areas, their specific
form and expression, do not have anyone to defend them, because unlike the art
historian who criticised the paint in Stockholm, most conservation officers
find these areas dull and even negligible. Many of us within the sector find it
perfectly all right to alter or get rid of some of these buildings, which might
not be wrong but rather inconsistent. We need to become more consistent in our
work which also means that if we want to involve the citizens in the process of
writing down history, we have to involve all citizens, not only those living in
the bad reputed areas.
Finally, the City project made us realise the
importance of keeping apart documentation work and conservation work –
especially when it comes to places people find uncomfortable or threatening. My
experience is that our work is concentrated on objects we know that we can
preserve and therefore we forget or chooses to neglect those parts of the
cultural heritage that cannot or should not be preserved. The people we worked
with in Bergsjön and the other places were very precise on that matter. “This
is very important to remember”, they could say, “but we have to change
it because our lives must go on”. I do not promote a tearing down of the modern
housing areas, on the contrary. But I cannot conduce to conserving buildings
and monuments that the actual inhabitants find destructive.
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