Josephine Sassu
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Oslo National Academy of the Arts, 2024
To Ferment a Building
To Ferment is to Preserve​
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Preserving refers to the act of maintaining something in its state, protecting it from decay or damage. The word “preserve” comes from the Latin word praeservare, which is a combination of prefix “prae-” meaning “before” or “in advance” and “servare” meaning “to keep, guard, or protect.” Thus, praeservare originally meant “to keep in advance” or “to guard beforehand”.
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Around the world, different cultures have developed various techniques to preserve food, each beautifully adapted to specific climates. In fact, most existing food preserving techniques go beyond the mere aim of being able to store the produce. Over thousands of years, techniques have been refined that add taste and nutritional value over time while at the same time preserving the produce. In the light of this translation project, I have become particularly interested in the technique of fermentation – preservation through change. I find this notion incredibly fascinating as it conveys the positivity of change, that everything is ever-changing – illustrating that preservation does not succeed through stagnation. Fermentation is a reflection on time passing, not a way to make time stand still. The beauty lies in adapting this understanding:
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Buildings! Buildings must also be able to change over time – their function and composition must be transformable. Otherwise, they loose relevance and must be torn down, or become museums – allowing only the past to dwell in them.
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The act of preservation can be seen as standing at the intersection of two dimensions of time — what was and what will be. It is a convergence of the past and the future, meeting in the space of the present. This meeting point is critical, as it determines whether there will be a future.
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​​​What materials do we build in to pay homage to the past of a of a space? What materials do we build in to make sure it has a future?
​“ForstaÌŠelsen af bevaring er pa denne maÌŠde ikke en retrospektiv handling, der drejer sig om at fryse fortiden, men en fremadrettet ambition om ikke at begrænse fremtidige muligheder. For transformationsarkitekturens vedkommende bliver det et spørgsmaÌŠl om at sikre muligheden for en kontinuerlig udvikling, der paÌŠ samme tid sikrer permanens og forandring.” (Harlang, 2014)
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“The understanding of preservation in this way is not a retrospective act preserving the past through freezing it, but a future-oriented ambition to not limit possibilities in the future. In the case of transformation-architecture, it becomes a matter of ensuring the possibility of continuous development, simultaneously ensuring permanence and change.” (own translation)
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Christoffer Harlang describes a central idea of preservation in architecture. He states that preservation should not be about simply keeping things exactly as they were in the past, but rather about
preserving the potential for future growth and adaptation.
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Similarly, the Nordic Kitchen manifesto describes that a balance between newness and tradition is necessary for further develop Nordic culinary practice. The manifesto states that Nordic cuisine means “to develop potentially new applications of traditional Nordic food products.” (Nordic Co-op., n.d.). To find new ways of working with what already exists – to find newness in the existent, a statement that reminds me of what Hella Jongerius and Louise Schouwenberg emphasise in their manifesto “Beyond the New, A Search for Ideas in Design”. They advocate for the value of continually revisiting and re-examining existing designs, materials, and forms. “There is value in continually re-examining what already exists, delving into the archives, poring over the classics” as “cultural and historical awareness are woven into the DNA of any worthwhile product” (Jongerius & Schouwenberg, n.d.).
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To Ferment a Building​
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Fermentation occurs both naturally and through human intervention. Microorganisms use the existent amount of glucose in the fruit, digest it and create enzymes that help to create new substances. Successful fermentation requires the right conditions, a suitable microorganism culture, and time (Redzepi & Zilber, 2018). The right space, culture and time. I laugh — fermentation sounds remarkably similar to the culinary space I’ve been trying to describe in this work. It makes me wonder if one would need to ferment a building to achieve that kind of transformation.
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The Danish language houses a word that describes a thought
so beautifully as I haven’t find in another language yet: Bygningskultur. I interpret it as building-culture, the culture around building a building, the culture emerging from buildings, the culture between buildings, culture being the root of a building or a way of building.
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In his book on the transformation of buildings, Danish architect Christoffer Harlang writes, that “one can understand architecture as the spatial organisation of concrete, physical material. The technical way to look at it is based on an understanding that the material as components of the building, is composed in a certain order through knowledge of how those parts come together.” (own translation)
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“Man kan forstaÌŠ arkitektur som den rumlige organisering af et konkret, fysisk materiale. Den tekniske vinkel er baseret paÌŠ en forstaÌŠelse af, at materialet, i form af bygningens delelementer, sættes sammen i en bestemt orden ved hjælp af kendskab til, hvordan delene samles.” (Harlang, 2014 p.74)
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Harlang suggests that architecture can be understood as the intentional arrangement of physical materials in space. He emphasises that this process relies on specific knowledge and logic to compose these materials in a particular order, ensuring they function together harmoniously as a coherent structure. In a way, this interpretation of architecture, reminds me of what happens during fermentation.
Architecture:
Spatial organisation of
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physical components (materials)
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as parts of the building
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put together in a particular order informed by knowledge on how those parts ought to be collected
Fermentation:
Reorganising (through enzymes)
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the components of the substrate (sugars)
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into compounds with new structures (alcohol, lactic acid or carbon dioxide)
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in a pattern informed by the inherent logic (of the fungi or micro-organisms) resulting in flavours and preservation
Fermentation embraces preservation through change, not stagnation. Fermentation as well as transformations of architectural nature, alternate the original elements while still retaining a link to their roots and identity. In other words, even though the situation is changed, the essence remains. This parallel operates on an abstract layer of understanding describing the changing composition of components. I believe that the true quality of fermentation lies in the forces behind this re-organisation of existing structures.
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Central to the idea of fermentation is the notion of expressing care. “Fermentation is an act of delicately balanced cooperation and care that results in profound reciprocal benefits.
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When we ferment, we build and design systems that centre care-giving as a practice.” (Drain, 2021)
The element of care is reflected in creating environments designed for the users to thrive in, to feel taken care of. This notion can be understood both in the context of microbes, which require specific environments to thrive, and as a guiding principle in designing spaces for people, emphasising the importance of creating environments that support well-being.
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Following Drain’s thought, the act of fermenting can be understood as the creating and managing of systems that emphasize the importance of care and nurturing, leading to significant mutual benefits for all involved, whether it’s the food, the environment, or the people. Thereby, the practice of fermentation embodies a qualities of cooperation and care. This understanding of fermentation can be supplemented with Drain’s description of the human intent behind the process, which he characterises as driven by “agency, decision, and intention” (Drain, 2021).
In conclusion, the ideas presented thus far depict fermentation as the reorganisation of existing structures within an environment driven by the central idea of care – a carescape. It is a dynamic process of change with the focus of considering the need of all elements involved and their surrounding. To ferment a building would mean approaching its transformation with careful consideration of all elements within the natural and social environment, thoughtfully reorganising existing components into a logically informed composition that adapts to current needs, thereby ensuring its preservation for the future. To ferment circles around the idea of keeping an environment – a bacterial culture – a building – alive.
After-thought:
Transformations After the Date of Expiration​
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Usually, a transformation process starts at the end of a lifecycle
of a building, taking exposition in a space that is tired and can no longer successfully resume its initial function. A building that is not being paid attention to, that lacks care and thereby reaching its cultural expiration date. Like an expired carton of milk in the fridge, it stands in the landscape, attracting a mixture of ignorance and disdain. Could preserving the building earlier have prevented this outcome? Could a time-conscious transformation process have saved it? Would it have expired if the building had been fermented?
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When fermenting fruit or vegetables one doesn’t choose produce that has already started to rotten. Transformation projects within architecture real often with built situations that have started
to rotten, either functionally or physically. It seems organic to argue that the process of transformation would be easier – and thereby used more often – if the building was still intact, if people had not given it up yet. That opens up a central thought – how early should design interfere? When should the the process of transformation start?
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And while those questions are best answered in a discussion including different perspectives throughout design, architecture, interior architecture, critical theory and psychogeography, I have not found an answer to them myself.
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And even though there is no clear answer on when the process of transformation should start, I suggest to look at the question from another side of the table. Hereby I do not regard transformation as a possibility, but as a necessity. In a way bypassing the debate,
I want to make a plea that the design process of new buildings should already contain a plan for the building’s afterlife. The process of transformation should be engrained in the early planning of a new building. New buildings should only be allowed if they contain the element of transformability – ensuring the longevity of the social, cultural and physical life of the building. Therefor, design should regard transformations as a standard practice and consider the possibilities of transformability in everything that is being built.