ON SITE: THE RESPONSIBILITY OF OWNERSHIP
Site visit to a steep, coastal plot in New Zealand.
These past few weeks in New Zealand, I’ve made a number of site visits: trips to unoccupied pieces of land to discuss dreams of new projects. I’ve stood on exposed ridgelines calling out to be regenerated with native bush, clambered up steep slopes to gain a view out to sea, and felt the wind whistle between two tall buildings in the city.
Every architectural project begins with a site. A place on the land, a position in the world, a moment in a long history that stretches out before and after what happens now. To create architectures of place - buildings and spaces that belong here, and that we belong with - is a challenge that is larger than any one of us.
We often equate a site with a parcel of ownership, simplifying this relationship to a title and associated rights. But a deep responsibility comes with owning any land or buildings. To build on a site is to occupy it, to modify it, to claim it. But can it also be to pay homage to it? To respect it? To nurture and cultivate it?
On a rural site he has lived on for three years, a client spoke to me about the beauty of living here, but also of the responsibility of it. The thing with beautiful sites, he said, is that many people don’t realise how much work and care comes with them. For more than three years now, he has poured hours into keeping out invasive species, planting native bush to regenerate the property, and preparing systems to protect the plot in the event of wildfire. There is a deep sense of custodianship and care in these now seasonal rituals, and his commitment to carrying out these tasks only seems to have forged a deeper connection to this place.
If you too have the privilege of making a choice, selecting a site for an architectural project is a fundamental part of the journey. Beyond cost, location, orientation and topography, often the most important consideration is simply intuition. Does being here feel right? Do you feel at ease, attuned to the particular rhythms of the landscape, climate, and neighbours? Can you, like my client, give as much to this place as it offers to you?
From sea views or mountain sunsets to overgrown ruins or city oases, each site connects us to the world. In a great project, there is often a sense that we belong with a site, place or landscape rather than it belonging to us. In the design process, we ask how, rather than simply using a site, there might be a way to nourish it, revealing latent, long term value.
Anywhere you live, work or visit will be changed by your presence. The beauty of a site is that it’s going to continue to evolve, and your life will evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now, in a way that also respects and supports the future. That way, what happens later will unfold naturally, with all the beauty and richness that entails.
Untended farmbuildings in rural Belgium, on the edge of protected woodland.
Stone walls and ancient olive groves in rural Catalonia, Spain.
Ocean views and native bush in coastal New Zealand require care and protection for the future.
