Vernacular buildings in a changing world:understanding, recording

and conservation

Vernacular buildings in a changing world:understanding, recording

and conservation

Edited by Sarah Pearson and Bob Meeson

CBA Research Report 126Council for British Archaeology

2001

Published 2001 by the Council for British ArchaeologyBowes Morrell House, 111 Walmgate, York YO1 2UA

Copyright 2001 Authors and Council for British ArchaeologyAll rights reserved

British Library Cataloguing in Publication DataA catalogue for this book is available from the British Library

ISSN 0589-9036ISBN 1 902771 19 2

Typeset by Archtype InformationTechnology Ltd, www.archetype-it.comPrinted by Pennine Printing Services Ltd

The CBA acknowledges with gratitude a grant from English Heritage towards the publication of this volume

Front cover: 99a West Street, Faversham, Kent (photography courtesy of Sarah Pearson)Back cover: Squatters cottage, Chobham in Surrey, taken 1975 (photograph courtesy of Bob Meeson)

Contents

List of abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

List of illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

List of tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii

List of contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

Acknowledgements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x

Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x

Preface Humphrey Welfare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiv

Part I: Background, objectives and methods

1 Exploring the issues: changing attitudes to understanding and recording Sarah Pearson . . . . . . . . . . . 3

2 Out of the shunting yards one academics approach to recording small buildingsJane Grenville . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

3 Recording for research and conservation Bob Meeson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27

Part II: Recording buildings: conservation

4 The role of understanding in building conservation Kate Clark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41

5 Information requirements for planning decisions David Baker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

6 The potential and limitations of the work of a professional consultant Richard Morriss . . . . . . . . . . . . 64

7 Old buildings for the future: the work of an archaeological unit Robina McNeil andMike Nevell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74

Part III: Recording buildings: research and education

8 The traditional role of continuing education in the recording of buildings Barry Harrison . . . . . . . . . . 89

9 New directions in continuing education David Clark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

10 The independent recording of traditional buildings Nat Alcock . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98

11 The potential of tree-ring dating Edward Roberts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111

v

Part IV: The records

12 Managing the information Anna Eavis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125

Part V: Conclusions

13 Recording small buildings in a changing world Nicholas Cooper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

14 Some general conclusions Malcolm Airs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141

Index by Susan Vaughan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

vi

List of abbreviations

ADS Archaeology Data ServiceAIP Archaeological Investigations ProjectALGAO Association of Local Government Ar-

chaeological OfficersBIAB British and Irish Archaeological

BibliographyCBA Council for British ArchaeologyEH English HeritageFAC Field Archaeology Centre (Manchester)GMAU Greater Manchester Archaeology UnitHEIRNET Heritage Information Resource

NetworkIFA Institute of Field ArchaeologistsIHBC Institute of Historic Building

ConservationICOMOS International Council on Monuments

and SitesLBC Listed Building ConsentLPA Local Planning AuthorityMBC Metropolitan Borough CouncilNMR National Monuments Record

OASIS On-line Access to ArchaeologicalInvestigations

PPG 15 Planning Policy Guidance Note 15:Planning and the historic environment

PPG 16 Planning Policy Guidance Note 16: Ar-chaeology and planning

PRO Public Record OfficeRCAHMW Royal Commission on the Ancient and

Historical Monuments in WalesRCHME Royal Commission on the Historical

Monuments of EnglandRICS Royal Institute of Chartered SurveyorsSCAUM Standing Conference of Archaeological

Unit ManagersSMR Sites and Monuments RecordUMAU University of Manchester Archaeology

UnitVAG Vernacular Architecture GroupVCH Victoria Histories of the Counties of

EnglandWEA Workers Education Association

List of illustrations

2.1 St Helens church, Skipwith, the north-east elevation: hand recording added to AutoCAD 3-Dmodel

2.2 St Helens Church, Skipwith: reconstruction of the nave and chancel based on detailed recording2.3 Stoneleigh Abbey gatehouse: stratigraphy2.4 Stoneleigh Abbey gatehouse: interpretation2.5 Whitehough, Leek, Staffordshire2.6 Bowes Morrell House, Walmgate, York: phase plans and access2.7 7 Shambles, York: the timber frame3.1 Hill Top, Longdon, Staffordshire: a medieval aisled building with a non-domestic lower end?3.2 Brookside, Horton, Staffordshire: house and byre under one roof3.3 Darwin House, Lichfield: alternate reconstruction in the 18th century4.1 Lodge Farm, Hollington, Derbyshire: Dendrochronological dates4.2 Replacement windows erode the character of vernacular buildings4.3 Cottage at Little Dawley, Shropshire: smoke hood4.4 Cottages at Coalport, Shropshire, prior to conservation4.5 Cottages at Coalport after conservation4.6 Barracks at Lilleshall, Shropshire4.7 Miss Ann Bearpacker Almshouses, Wotton under Edge, Gloucestershire, 1837: exterior4.8 Interior of almshouses, Wotton-under-Edge, Gloucestershire6.1 Late 17th-century Shropshire cottage with external cladding6.2 Rapid survey section of the Shropshire cottage, showing essential elements of the frame

vii

7.1 Onion Farm, Warburton: timber framing, cruck and position of wall painting7.2 Onion Farm, Warburton: late 16th-century wall painting7.3 Kersal Cell, Salford: timber framing and position of wall painting7.4 Kersal Cell, Salford: wall painting7.5 Kersal Cell, Salford: detail of wall painting7.6 Scotson Fold, Radcliffe: wall painting after initial conservation and after flood damage, but before

re-conservation7.7 Scotson Fold, Radcliffe: plan7.8 Scotson Fold, Radcliffe: section7.9 Stockport Market Place in 18407.10 Staircase House, Stockport: cage-newel staircase7.11 Staircase House, Stockport: schematic plan8.1 Ranelands Farm, Hebden, North Yorkshire: plan8.2 Ranelands Farm, Hebden, North Yorkshire: front elevation, section and details10.1 Typical framing of a north Bedfordshire house, showing an unrecognised clasped purlin10.2 Section and plan of the stud-and-panel granary in Wellesbourne, Warwickshire, tree-ring dated to

163910.3 Hall House, Sawbridge, Warwickshire, view from east10.4 Hall House, Sawbridge, Warwickshire, section of hall truss10.5 Distribution of post-and-rafter trusses10.6 Cruck house in Stoneleigh, Warwickshire (1 Birmingham Road)10.7 Reconstruction of the framing of a house using curved braces in Stoneleigh, Warwickshire (1112

Coventry Road)10.8 Houses using straight braces: 1112 Vicarage Road, Stoneleigh, and 2 School Lane, Stretton upon

Dunsmore, Warwickshire10.9 Reconstruction by P Hughes of the 1556 probate inventory of Humphrey Hilles10.10 Ram Hall, Berkswell, Warwickshire, a house of c1685 with a lobby-entry plan10.11 Plan of Grove Farm, Warmington, Warwickshire, a house of c1700 with a central stair-passage

plan10.12 Proposed plan for a house in Milverton Terrace, Leamington Spa, of c1860, with a central stair-

passage plan10.13 Sections of open and closed trusses in The Leopard, Bishops Tachbrook, Warwickshire11.1 Home Farm, Breamore, Hampshire: cross section of the barn11.2 Rural vernacular houses and manor farmhouses in Hampshire, 1340159911.3 Roof trusses in dated box-framed houses in Hampshire, 1280165911.4 Dated open and floored halls in Hampshire, 1400165911.5 The George Inn, Odiham, Hampshire11.6 75 Winchester Street, Overton, Hampshire: the ceiling joists of the hall11.7 The Old Manor, Ashley, Hampshire

List of tables

2.1 Themes in archaeological research2.2 The archaeological process6.1 The usefulness to society of the historic environment6.2 The planning process: information needs and recording requirements6.3 Problems and shortfalls in the procurement and use of information

viii

List of contributors

Malcolm Airs, Reader in Conservation and the His-toric Environment at the University of Oxfordand Chairman of the Institute of Historic Build-ing Conservation

Nat Alcock, Reader in the Chemistry Departmentat the University of Warwick; also a recognisedauthority on vernacular architecture and an in-dependent building historian

David Baker, Consultant for Historic EnvironmentConservation, formerly Head of the HeritageGroup, Bedfordshire County Planning Depart-ment, Vice-president of the Council for BritishArchaeology

David Clark, Associate Tutor in ArchitecturalHistory at the Oxford University Department forContinuing Education

Kate Clark, Head of Historic Environment Manage-ment, English Heritage

Nicholas Cooper, Architectural Historian, for-merly of the Royal Commission on the HistoricalMonuments of England

Anna Eavis, Head of NMR Services, National Mon-uments Record, English Heritage

Jane Grenville, Department of Archaeology,Uni-versity of York

Barry Harrison, Architectural and Landscape His-torian, formerly Senior Lecturer in History forthe School of Continuing Education at the Uni-versity of Leeds

Robina McNeil, County Archaeologist for theGreater Manchester Archaeology Unit, Univer-sity of Manchester

Bob Meeson, Historic Buildings Consultant, for-merly Senior Archaeologist in the Department ofPlanning and Development, StaffordshireCounty Council

Richard Morriss, Historic Buildings Consultant,Richard K Morriss & Associates

Mike Nevell, Research Manager at the Universityof Manchester Archaeology Unit

Sarah Pearson, Architectural Historian, formerlyof the Royal Commission on the Historical Monu-ments of England

Edward Roberts, Honorary Research Fellow in theSchool of Humanities at King Alfreds College,Winchester

Humphrey Welfare, Director of Projects in Archae-ology and Survey, English Heritage

ix

Acknowledgements

The primary thanks must go to the contributors,without whose voluntary commitment this reportwould not have been possible. Under the direction ofMalcolm Airs and the editors, the Department forContinuing Education at the University of Oxford isacknowledged for hosting the conference at whichmost of the following papers were given. The confer-ence was the first of a series organised jointly by thatDepartment and the Vernacular ArchitectureGroup, whose support is warmly appreciated. Subse-quently, Humphrey Welfare offered continuing

practical assistance and encouragement, and KateSleight and Jane Thorniley-Walker steered the finaltext to publication.

We are grateful to those who supplied or permittedthe use of illustrations, as credited in the text.

The publication was made possible through a gen-erous grant from English Heritage.

Sarah Pearson & Bob MeesonJanuary 2001

Summary

The principal architectural component of the builtlandscape is comprised of vernacular buildings,whose value to everyone is increasingly recognised.At the same time there is a growing awareness thattheir historic integrity is being eroded. Based largelyon a conference at Oxford in 1998, this ResearchReport is relevant to all who are concerned with thefuture of vernacular buildings in England andWales. It explores many of the current issues facingthose who study small historic buildings, and whoare concerned with their conservation.

Firstly, the discipline is set in its historicalcontext, exploring the many ways in which buildingrecording has been or can be approached, whetherfrom an academic point of view or for practical andconservation purposes. The need for better-informed conservation and planning decisions hasled to a significant increase in the amount and typeof building recording undertaken. Informed conser-vation requires an understanding of particularbuildings, their contribution to local distinctive-

ness, and well-researched general knowledge. Twopapers by professional consultants indicate theproblems encountered and the range of uses towhich such work may be put.

It remains a high priority to continue to explore thewider development of historic buildings academi-cally, and to that end new research techniques andapplications, such as tree-ring dating, are develop-ing. The role of education is explored, particularly inthe light of major changes in university organisationand the introduction of information technology. Thecrucial part played by independent voluntary build-ing recording is also illustrated.

Once records are made, the ways that they can bestored and accessed is a matter of considerableconcern, particularly as the volume of informationcontinues to grow while the resources of national andlocal repositories remain relatively static.

The papers are widely divergent in their themesand approaches, but there is considerable agreementon the issues that need to be addressed.

x

Rsum

La principale structure architecturale du paysageconstruit est compose de petits btiments histor-iques ; leur valeur universelle est de plus en plusreconnue et pourtant, en mme temps, il y a uneprise de conscience croissante de la mesure de leurdisparition. Se rfrant largement sur une con-frence lUniversit dOxford en 1998, ce compte-rendu des recherches intressera tous ceux qui sontconcerns par lavenir des btiments traditionnelsen Angleterre et au pays de Galles. Il explore denombreux problmes actuels auxquels font face ceuxqui tudient les petits btiments historiques et quisont concerns par leur sauvegarde.

Tout dabord, cette discipline est place dans soncontexte historique, explorant les nombreuses man-ires dont a t aborde, ou pourrait tre aborde, ladocumentation sur les btiments, que ce soit dunpoint de vue universitaire ou des fins pratiques etpour la sauvegarde. Le besoin de dcisions desauvegarde et de planning mieux informes a men une considrable augmentation de nombre et du typede btiments sur lesquels est entreprise une docu-mentation. La sauvegarde informe exige unecomprhension de btiments particuliers, de leurcontribution au caractre distinctif local et desconnaissances gnrales bien recherches. Deux

communications crites par des consultantsprofessionnels indiquent les problmes rencontrs etles divers usages auxquels pourrait se prter cegenre de travail.

La poursuite des dmarches en ce qui concerne ledveloppement des btiments historiques sur le planuniversitaire reste une haute priorit et, ce but, denouvelles techniques de recherche et de nouvellesapplications, comme la dendrochronologie, sedveloppent. Le rle de lenseignement est explor,tout particulirement au regard de grands change-ments dans lorganisation de luniversit et delintroduction de la technologie de linformation. Lerle crucial jou par la documentation bnvoleindpendante est galement illustr.

Une fois la recherche documentaire termine, ilfaudra se soucier des diffrents moyens pour la rangeret pour y avoir accs, tant donn, particulirement,que le volume de linformation continue de crotrealors que les ressources des dpts nationaux etlocaux restent relativement constantes.

Les communications ont des thmes et approchestrs diffrentes mais elles saccordent quant auxproblmes quil convient daborder.

berblick

Die vorherrschende architekonische Struktur derBau-Landschaft besteht aus kleinen, historischenGebuden, deren Wert zunehmend Anerkennungfindet, whrenddessen sich ebenfalls das Tempoeines bausubstantiellen Zermrbungs-Prozesses insBewutsein rckt

Der folgende Forschungsbericht wendet sich an alldiejenigen, die sich vom Werdegang traditionellerGebude in England und Wales betroffen fhlen undbasiert grtenteils auf Konferenz-Inhalten der Uni-versitt Oxford aus dem Jahre 1999.

Vielen gebenwrtigen Angelegenheiten wird hier aufden Grund gegangen. Sowohl diejenigen, denen kleine,historische Gebuden am Herzen liegen, als auch diean ihrem Erhalt interessierten sind angesprochen.

Zunchst einmal wird die Disziplin im his-

torischen Kontext gesetzt. Auf vielen Wegen wurdesich den Methoden der Gebude-Aufzeichnunggenhert. Diese werden hier erkundet, sei es aufakademische Art oder aber aus praktisch ver-anlagten oder erhaltenden Motiven.

Die Notwendigkeit, besser informierte Planungs-,wie Gebude-Erhaltungs-Entscheidungen zutreffen, hat zu einem bedeutsamen Anwachsen vonGebude-Aufzeichnungen gefhrt, sowohl bezglichder Anzahl, wie auch der Methoden. Den besserinformierten Erhaltungsmanahmen muss ein Ver-stndnis bezglich gewisser Gebude-Typenvorausgehen und darber, wie sie zu einem unver-wechselbaren Erscheinungsbild eines Orts ihrenBeitrag leisten. Zudem ist ein breites Allgemein-wissen dafr essentiell.

xi

Die Aufzeichnungen von zwei professionellenBeretern zeigen Probleme auf, mit denen bereitsumgegangen wurde, aber auch die Breite des Nut-zungsspektrum dieser Art von Arbeit.

Das Weiterverfolgen der Entwicklung historischerGebude aus akademischem Blickwinkel bleibtweiterhin Prioritt und fr diesen Bereich werdenForscungstechniken- und Anwendungen, wie z. B.das Auswerten der Jahresringe von Bumen, weiter-entwickeit.

Die Bedeutung von Bildung wird erforscht, spezielldie grundstzlichen organisatorischen Vernder-ungen im Universitts-Apparat, wie auch dieEinfhrung der Informations-Technologie betreffend.

Der ausschlaggebende Part, den unabhngigeVoluntre bei Gebude-Aufzeichnungen spielen,wird ebenfalls dargestellt.

Solbald es fertige Aufzeichnungen gibt, stellt sichdie Frage ihrer Verwaltung und des Zugangs zujeweils bentigtem Material, besonders, da dasInformationsvolumen weiterhin anwachsen wird,whrend die Ressourcen lokaler und nationalerBezugsquellen relativ unverndert bleiben werden.

Die Berichte weichen in ihrem Themen und Vor-gehensweisen start voneinander ab, dennoch ergibtsich ein beachtliches Ma an bereinstimmunghinsichtlich der Themenauswahl.

xii

Preface

Small buildings, in their infinite variety, constitute acore part of the historic environment and fittinglyformed the focus of the conference, organised by theVernacular Architecture Group and the Universityof Oxford Department for Continuing Education.The proceedings from that conference constitute thecore of this volume.

The familiar and comfortable forms of vernacularbuildings are indissoluble from perceptions of re-gional character and from the spirit of place ofvillages, market towns, and scattered rural commu-nities. They are thus an integral part of our culturalconsciousness, firing the inquisitive imaginationand stimulating a great deal of investigation in thesecond half of the 20th century. Although smallbuildings within the vernacular tradition are readilyrecognised and appreciated by the wider public, theirhuge numbers and their extraordinary diversity ofform, development, structure and materials makeinformed assessments especially difficult. In paral-lel, the very popularity of these buildings hasexposed them to restoration and alteration that iswell intentioned but often ill-informed, a dichotomythat has posed particular challenges to those respon-sible for their conservation.

The conference published here illustrated how thehuge body of evidence potentially available is gradu-ally being unlocked and acted upon. In this theinvolvement of the Department for Continuing Edu-cation was particularly appropriate as so muchrecording by groups or by dedicated individuals has stemmed from extra-mural courses. The frame-work that they have provided, and the enthusiasmthat they have channelled and nurtured, have gener-ated much of what we know today. The research thatspins off from these courses is a powerful testamentto the value of life-long learning. This study of build-ings for their own sake will continue unabated, butrecent years have also seen a continuing shift fromthe recording and analysis of individual buildings tothe provision of wider understanding, through syn-theses of building-types or through regional studies.This is now being taken further to the active use ofthat new knowledge as the informed basis for conser-vation.

The actual recording of a building calls for avariety of skills, and while both the activity and theresult are satisfying in themselves they form onlythe first step of a longer process. Dissemination andaccessibility whether by publication or by depositin a public archive soon become essential. However,the inclusion of buildings in local Sites and Monu-ments Records is still patchy, and even the

information collected by and for the use of plannersin district councils has rarely been made availablefor wider public use. At a national level, however, thedatabases are being thrown open through emergingelectronic access to the Listed Building System andto the Images of England (the latter being set toprovide an online photograph of every listed buildingin England).

Signposting the existence of records of buildinganalyses represents a continuing and developingchallenge: to ensure that those who need the infor-mation, now or in the future, can find it and make useof it. Such signposting greatly assists the creation ofsyntheses, enabling the record of a particular build-ing to be linked to others and put in context so thatrobust statements of significance may be made. Intreating small vernacular buildings, the construc-tion of this wider picture can be crucial forconservation officers in local authorities in the man-agement of change whether they are dealing withindividual buildings, streetscapes, or conservationareas, or with the production of Local Plans or designguides. Ideally, both specific and contextual informa-tion should be available as early as possible so thatthey can influence the plans for works. This is infi-nitely preferable to the conservation officer having toreact much later in the overall process to inade-quate applications for listed building consent. It wasparticularly noticeable at the conference that muchof the discussion centred on the timely use of recordsin planning procedures.

Taking the wider view, it is essential that the ad-vances in knowledge that stem from the recording ofindividual buildings (reinforced where appropriateby sophisticated surveying or by dendrochronology)are passed on. Heightened public awareness, alteredperceptions, and further professional trainingschemes will greatly strengthen the whole businessof architectural conservation. Convincing ownersand curators of the significance and value of particu-lar features or building-types, or of the long-termbenefits of making use of traditional materials, willprovide a sound basis for the invaluable, everydayactions in conservation that will do more than any-thing to protect and to sustain our stock of smallhistoric buildings.

English Heritage is particularly glad to supportthe publication of the papers from this very success-ful, enjoyable and stimulating conference.

Humphrey WelfareDirector of Projects in Archaeology and Survey

English Heritage

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Introduction

The conference papers on which this book is basedgrew out of a recognition that the study of vernacularbuildings, as practised between the 1950s and 1980s,had changed significantly by the 1990s. During theearlier period, and beginning from a state of almosttotal ignorance, the primary aim was to discover howmany small historic buildings survived in GreatBritain, identify their type and dates, show howthose of one region differed from those of another,and note the changes in design, structure and plan-form that occurred over time. For many years this re-mained the main preoccupation of researchers,whether professionals or amateurs.

By the 1990s, it was generally recognised that his-toric buildings were a major cultural resource whichwas being relentlessly damaged, sometimes throughover-enthusiastic and uninformed restoration. Theperception that they must be understood in order tobe properly conserved led to the introduction of gov-ernment guidelines aimed at securing better-informed conservation. This in turn led to an in-crease in detailed recording, and brought people with

different backgrounds and skills into the field. Thereis an urgent need to get across the role that recordingcan and should play in conservation, not simply inorder to mitigate loss, but to instruct all who are in-volved in proposed work whether as owners, agentsor managers as to what is important about a build-ing before decisions are made about its future. At thesame time, there is still more to be discovered aboutthe buildings of particular areas, periods or types,and new techniques and approaches are changingboth our understanding of them and their continuinguse. Finally, there is the question of what happens toall this knowledge once acquired.

There is room for a wide range of skills and ap-proaches in the study of small buildings, and thisbook seeks to draw together specialists from differ-ent backgrounds who make or use records ofvernacular architecture. They range from academ-ics to government employees, from professionalconsultants to interested volunteers, and theirwork reflects the variety of current interests andconcerns.

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Part I: Background, objectives and methods

1 Exploring the issues: changing attitudes tounderstanding and recording by Sarah Pearson

The last few years have seen a number of books andconferences devoted to the recording of buildings,most notably the volume entitled Buildings Archae-ology: Applications in Practice, published in 1994following a conference on recording held by the Insti-tute of Field Archaeologists in 1993 (RCHME 1991,Wood 1994). Thus it may be argued that another isnot required. But most books have dealt with largerbuildings, or at least with all buildings, and havebeen primarily concerned with methodology. Al-though in theory the methodology of recording allbuildings may be the same, historically those whohave engaged in the study of small buildings havehad a distinctive approach, perceptibly differentfrom that used for other buildings. The last few yearshave seen this beginning to change, largely becauseof a growing interest in conservation. For a while thisresulted in an unfortunate confrontation betweendifferent attitudes, which was particularly markedin the late 1980s and early 1990s. It focused on issuessuch as levels and methods of recording, and ledpeople to take up entrenched positions. Thankfully,this is changing, and one of the purposes of this bookis to identify the various presuppositions and todiscuss the changes, and the challenges that havecome with them.

Buildings Archaeology was largely concerned withrecord-making for the management of historic build-ings. Indeed, David Stocker actually called hisintroduction: Understanding What We Conserve,and made the point that this is an appropriateapproach for members of the IFA, increasingnumbers of whom are recording smaller buildings.But this has not been the only, nor even the mainreason, why people have studied smaller buildings the word study rather than record is used deliber-ately, for this book is not just about the practicalrecording of individual small buildings; it is aboutunderstanding all aspects of the study of small orvernacular buildings, which means also payingattention to the human, social and cultural impor-tance of historic buildings, as has recently beendiscussed by a number of writers (eg Grenville 1994,Palmer 1994, Johnson 1994, Gould 1995).

Historical background

The rise of recording historic buildings in the sensethat we know it today began among architects in theearly 19th century. The publications of John Brittonon castles, and even more importantly the works byThomas Rickman on the stylistic development ofchurches, had a tremendous impact (Britton 180726, Rickman 1817). Rickman classified features and

styles thereby providing a framework which could beused for dating purposes. During the first half of thecentury numerous local and national archaeologicaland historical societies were founded, both cateringfor and stimulating the rising interest in ancientmonuments of all kinds; and from 1842 RobertWillis, Jacksonian Professor of Natural and Experi-mental Philosophy at the University of Cambridge,was publishing his pioneering structural analyses ofmedieval cathedrals and other buildings (Willis1972, see also Pevsner 1972). Thus a great deal wasgoing on among the educated public at this time. Butnone of this was officially recognised.

On the Continent, governments were quick toaccept their responsibilities, and already by theearly 19th century they were taking an active role inthe identification, protection and recording of his-toric monuments in their care (Brown 1905, 11, 7696, Harvey 1961, 1972, 278); but shamefully, inGreat Britain, despite pressure from architectsand antiquarians, the state played little part(Miele 1996, 20). In 1846 two architects, EdwardBlore and William Twopenny, were invited to drawup a report for the Commission of Woods andForests on the preservation and repair of ancientbuildings and works of art belonging to the Crown.Their report starts by recognising the increasedinterest of the public in historic monuments andtheir preservation, but notes that unfortunatelythe progress of knowledge has not kept pace withthe increase of zeal and admiration, which they feltwas a pity, since there was scarcely a villagewithout some historical remains, and injudiciousrepair was often obliterating every trace of origi-nality and not infrequently changing the characterof the work which they profess to preserve. Tocounteract this, they said, the government shouldbe setting a good example in its treatment of Crownproperties. It is worth quoting their recommenda-tions in full, since they are as apposite now as theywere when written:

We . . . suggest that before any repair be exe-cuted . . . careful drawings . . . should be madewhich would assist the Commissioners in deter-mining as to the value and extent of the repairs tobe sanctioned, and also afford evidence of the stateof the building . . . before the repair in contempla-tion was executed. These drawings should becarefully preserved and would in time form a col-lection of great value and interest, and their utilityand interest would be greatly increased if theywere rendered accessible to the public by deposit-ing them in the British Museum where they mightbe made the foundation of . . . a public collection of

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drawings of antient buildings and other works ofart in this country.

The necessity of careful reports to the Commis-sioners by competent persons of the actual state ofthe work proposed to be preserved, and if neces-sary repaired, before it is touched is so obvious thatit seems hardly necessary for us to mention it, butwe venture to suggest that great care should betaken in the selection of those persons upon whosefitness for so important and difficult a duty somuch will depend. To be qualified for this duty it isnot only necessary that the persons employedshould be possessed of skilful practical knowledgebut that they should also have a right feeling ofrespect for antient art, which feeling should besupported and enlarged by a good knowledge of dif-ferent styles of art which have prevailed throughsuccessive periods. (3 January 1847, PRO Works14/131.4)

The report was politely acknowledged as interesting,but it led to no action by the government. Thus,despite the fact that by the 1840s many of the majoraspects of recording, that is, structural analysis, ac-curate drawing, typological classification, assess-ment and survey in advance of restoration, andpreservation of the results as a corpus for future re-search, were being discussed by architects and anti-quarians, England had to wait for several decades forlegislation to protect its ancient monuments, andeven longer for the state to acknowledge the impor-tance of an inventory or of recording.

Concern over the destruction of unprotected his-toric buildings led to the founding of the Society forthe Protection of Ancient Buildings in 1877, and indue course, and under pressure from varioussources, the Ancient Monuments Act was passed andthe post of Inspector of Ancient Monuments estab-lished in 1882 (Saunders 1983, Champion 1996). Butthis dealt with only a handful of monuments, andalthough the Office of Works was responsible for thecare and repair of a number of state-owned build-ings, this did little to alleviate the problems aboutwhich people had been campaigning. One of thetasks which was seen as essential was to know justwhich buildings were worthy of protection andrepair. Where were they? How many of them werethere? An inventory of the nations historic buildingswas required. Since the government did nothing, in1894 C R Ashbee set up the Committee for theSurvey of the Memorials of Greater London, tocompile a register of notable buildings in London,and alert and educate people to their importance andinterest before it was too late (Hobhouse 1994). Theproblem was not, of course, confined to the capital,and so, when the Victoria History of the Counties ofEngland was begun in 1899, again as a private enter-prise, it began the task of systematically describing,and in some cases illustrating, the more importantbuildings in each parish that it tackled (Pugh 1970).

Ultimately, and very belatedly, as is the way ofgovernments, the Royal Commissions were set up in

1908 to make inventories of the ancient and histori-cal monuments and constructions connected with orillustrative of the contemporary culture, civilizationand conditions of life in each of the three countries,from the earliest times to 1700. The idea was thatthe inventory would form the basis for legislationrelating to protection, for legislation could not beenacted until the government had some idea of thequantity and quality of the countrys historic monu-ments. It was thought that this would be a task of afew years, and the Commissions were asked both topublish inventories, and to recommend those monu-ments most worthy of preservation. The character ofthe work stemmed from a very 19th-century attitudeto both history and officialdom, which can besummed up by comments made by David Murray,president of the Archaeological Society of Glasgow,who in 1896 had called for the formation of some-thing like the Commissions, staffed by officialsurveyors competent to observe and record, with notheory to support or evolve, who would make a cor-rect and impartial record of facts (Murray 1896, 29,36, 71). This was the official approach of the Commis-sions from 1908 until the 1970s, and it is smallwonder that in the early years they produced fewbright and lively minds, the great exception being SirAlfred Clapham, Secretary of the English Commis-sion, who, however, still simply used his staff asrather low-grade research assistants. The work con-sisted primarily of verbal descriptions augmented bymeasured plans of churches and a few importanthouses. At the time this approach was deemed ade-quate, as can be seen from the fact that no less aperson than Grahame Clark (1934) praised the Com-missions for doing a marvellous job of mappingantiquities to a very high standard.

However, the Commissions were not, despite pleasfrom eminent academics such as Baldwin Brown(1905), properly tied into the legislative process orthe protection of sites. In addition, as the date rangeof monuments considered of historic interest ex-tended, and the diversity of those consideredimportant increased, progress became ever slowerand the inventories could not possibly provide thebackground to the legislation that had beenintended. Thus, after the Second World War the gov-ernment had to set up another process ofinventorisation, the listing of historic buildings.Again, it was decided to give this responsibility to adifferent department, and these decisions have left alegacy of fragmentation of responsibility which stillapplies in Scotland and Wales and has only beenclarified in England since the Royal Commission andEnglish Heritage (as it has become) merged in April1999.

The beginnings of the study ofvernacular architecture

After the Second World War interest in smallerbuildings increased, and some people began to think

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about them in new ways. The first volume of Sir CyrilFox and Lord Raglans Monmouthshire Houses,which appeared in 1951, was the first publication toillustrate this new approach, and in 1952 the Ver-nacular Architecture Group was formed to provide aforum for the exchange of ideas about smaller build-ings. These studies were question-led, which was afar cry from the 19th-century ideal of invent-orisation. People wanted to know not just whatbuildings there were, but how style, construction andplan forms evolved; and, as stated in the first volumeof Monmouthshire Houses, the authors consideredthat this enquiry could be carried out by archaeologi-cal methods (Fox and Raglan I, 1951, 10). Buildingswere analysed structurally, and relatively simplemeasured drawings, sections as well as plans, playeda prominent part in survey.

Monmouthshire Houses set the tone for a numberof regional surveys of vernacular buildings. Suchstudies were usually topographically based, buttheir approach differed fundamentally from that ofthe inventories, for they were directed to buildings ofa particular period or type, and in the best examplestheir purpose was to record in order to answer histor-ical questions about both the buildings and the soci-eties which gave rise to them (eg Brunskill 1974,Harrison and Hutton 1984, Alcock 1993, Giles 1986,Barnwell and Giles 1997). They did not include verydetailed measured surveys because this was not con-sidered necessary for the purpose in hand. This pointcannot be stressed enough: the detail of the recordwas commensurate to the task. It was more impor-tant to cover the ground and gain an overview than tosurvey any individual building in more detail thanwas necessary. Fox and Raglan described their ap-proach as archaeological, and they were not alone inthis. As W A Pantin wrote in 1958, when describingthe same sort of method, it was a process which maybe called excavation above ground and it was impor-tant to build up a body of generalised knowledge ...[which] in turn helps us to understand and diagnoseindividual specimens. These workers, and otherslike them, were not just recorders; they were histori-ans who wanted to use buildings as primary sourcesto explore certain aspects of history. Pantin, in thesame paper, was at pains to emphasise theimportance of studying buildings and documents to-gether. Many of the practitioners were amateurs, inthat they gained their livelihood in other ways, andthis is how a great deal of the best work in this tradi-tion has been, and is still being, done. It is typical, forexample, that in the 1990s, when Mick Aston of theUniversity of Bristol required a survey of historicbuildings to be undertaken for his archaeologicalproject on Shapwick in Somerset, he approached theSomerset Vernacular Building Research Group,whose excellent report was published in 1996(SVBRG 1996). In this volume Nat Alcock discussesthe role of the independent recorder.

In addition to regional topographical surveys,attention began to be paid to various aspects of theconstruction of smaller houses, in particular by J T

Smith of the English Commission (eg Smith 1955;1958). The approach was again one in which thepurpose was to understand evolution. To start with,it was overall structural form that was examined.Later fieldworkers, particularly Richard Harris andthe late Cecil Hewett, in their different ways havetaken structural analysis a stage further, andbrought the understanding of timber framing to avery high level of precision; but their work is moreclosely affiliated to the kind of detailed survey I willconsider shortly, than to the work of those who prac-tised the historical approach.

Meanwhile, the trend towards greater inclusive-ness compounded the problems of the Commissions.Not only were increasing demands made upon theEnglish Commission, but it also became obvious thatthe pursuit of the complete record was a chimera(Fowler 1981, Croad and Fowler 1984). The job wastaking far too long, and by the late 1960s it was clearto some of the more forward-looking staff in theEnglish Commission that an approach conceivedbefore the First World War, and doggedly pursuedwith little modification, had become outmoded.Architectural scholarship had moved on, and muchof the verbal description was irrelevant. Eric Mercerand J T Smith felt that the greatest failure of theCommission was, that despite all the detail that wasnow included, the volumes failed to provide anoverall picture of the architecture of a county and itsdevelopment, nor did they show in what way thebuildings of one county differed from another (un-published Memorandum to the Commissioners,1969). In other words, if the listing of individualitems was taking place elsewhere, the Commissionshould at the very least be providing the overview. Inline with current thinking outside the Commission,the approach they suggested was typological and his-torical. What was required was analysis and under-standing, the evidence for which would then bepresented through discussion and illustration. Theemphasis was still on traditional buildings of the18th century and earlier, for the present interest inlater industrial and institutional buildings had notthen begun.

It was to be another ten years before such viewsprevailed in the Commissions, although the publica-tion in 1975 of Eric Mercers English VernacularHouses, signalled the first signs of change. This booksummed up, albeit from a very personal point ofview, the current state of knowledge about vernacu-lar houses. It was not published without dissent, forsome Commissioners felt that this sort of volume waswholly inappropriate to a government body,smacked too much of research, and detracted fromthe Commissions main task, which was the inven-tory. However, one can now see it as the forerunner ofthe kind of studies, subsequently undertaken by theCommissions, and latterly also funded by EnglishHeritage, which are now regarded as essential pre-requisites to the protection of complex orinadequately understood building types. As suchthey are thought to qualify for government funding.

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Listing buildings

The Commissions inability to complete its task led tothe setting up of a new process of inventorisation, thelisting of historic buildings. This is not the place to gointo the history of listing in any detail, but it is worthmentioning it for several reasons. In the first place,this process also proved inadequate and had to berevised on more than one occasion. Secondly, by thetime the national resurvey of England was completein 1992/3 it comprised more than half a million indi-vidual buildings, and had taken 500 man years offieldwork and that of course was not the end (Rob-ertson et al 1993, 912). Thirdly, the resurveyemployed a great many people who have continuedtheir careers in historic buildings and are amongthose recording today. Initially, listing focused oninventorising individual buildings, but modernlisting, which is still continuing, is as much con-cerned with understanding categories of building,and with complexes, ensembles and landscapes very much more difficult concepts to get to grips withfor the purposes of protection. This is also verysimilar to the sort of recording latterly undertakenby the Commissions.

The decline of detailed records

During the immediate post-war years, what wasbeing done in the way of recording historic buildingsas part of the conservation process, as advocated byBlore and Twopenny in 1847? The answer is, verylittle, and it is worth considering why this shouldhave been so. In recent years those who have writtenon the recording of historic buildings, particularlychurches, have pointed to the dearth of detailed re-cording undertaken in the early-20th century.Richard K Morris has quoted the views of FrancisBond who, in 1906, saw the second quarter of the19th century as a golden age for the serious study ofchurch architecture (Morris 1994). Bond adducedvarious reasons for the decline, ranging from the dif-ficulties of getting to the buildings, the lack ofteaching and of accessible records, the competingclaims on archaeology of exotic sites in foreignplaces, and the tendency towards periodisation.

However, one may wonder whether Bond was nottoo close to the problem to see two of the mainreasons why ecclesiastical buildings were no longerbeing studied and recorded with the same enthusi-asm as before. The first was a widespread feelingthat most of the work had already been done. Most ofthe major monuments had already been surveyed,and a number of important books on architecturaldevelopment had been written it is, for example, in-structive to notice how many of Bonds illustrationswere reproduced from 19th-century sources. Thesecond is that the main effort was confined tochurches, and that architects, who had been theprincipal recorders during the 19th century, were nolonger required to design ecclesiastical buildings.

The Gothic Revival was over, and with it the need tounderstand both the overall form and the details ofGothic buildings. Indeed, as the modern movementgot under way, Gothic buildings were beginning tocause shudders of distaste. Such recording as wasdone by architects was more likely to be devoted tocountry houses, as in the work of Reginald Blomfieldor Albert Richardson. In general, however, thedetailed understanding of past styles was seen asless essential, and the archaeological or historicalapproach to buildings was viewed very cautiously byarchitects. Although they still studied the buildingsof the past to learn about good construction, it was nolonger thought either desirable or necessary thatearlier styles should be reproduced (Powys 1937, 3542). Architectural schools continued to teach theirstudents to draw important historic buildings itwas not until the second half of the 20th century thatthis aspect of their curricula finally disappeared; buttheir hearts were no longer in it as they had been ahundred years before, and the one profession whichwas well-equipped to undertake measured survey(even if this was not usually analytical in the modernsense), was largely lost to the cause.

In a sense it could be said that the dearth of record-ing in the first half of the 20th century was broughtabout by the withdrawal of the architects from activeparticipation in the recording business. Who was totake their place? The only group of people who weretrained to make drawings to the requisite standardwere archaeologists. When one thinks about it now,it is small wonder that they moved in to fill the void;but this did not take place immediately, for the 30years after the Second World War were a bleak timefor historic buildings. They were more likely to be de-molished than restored, and it was not until theinterest in conservation became more widespreadfrom the 1970s onwards that anyone saw the need fordetailed recording.

Once the listing of historic buildings got underway, permission had to be sought for the demolitionof a listed property. Not only was this a form ofcontrol over what should occur, but it meant thatinformation about what was proposed could be madecentrally available, and this provided the opportu-nity for records to be made. It was out of thissituation that the Commissions involvement in re-cording threatened buildings arose, but theserecords, like their other work, were interpretativeaccounts of the historical development of buildings,and were not meant to be an integral part of theprocess of restoration. Throughout this time theissue of accurate recording in advance of restorationremained badly neglected. In state-owned propertiesit was accepted that details would be lost during res-toration work, and therefore that a record wasessential, not really as an aid to restoration but forhistorical reasons or, as Sir Charles Peers admitted,for mere self-defence (Peers 1931, 320). Outside thiscategory, detailed analytical recording of the fabricwas rare, and received no encouragement from thestate.

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In private practice, few architects specialising inthe restoration of buildings were concerned with re-cording as they worked. Very little space, forexample, was devoted to the topic in John Harveysbook on building conservation. He simply advisedarchitects to take photographs and draw at least aground plan; from this, historical developmentcould be studied and structural weaknesses identi-fied (Harvey 1972, 89). That a great deal more couldbe learnt from the detailed analysis of a structure,and that this might prove valuable to the restora-tion process itself, was not discussed. Signs ofchange began in the early 1970s, when HaroldTaylor asked for better surveys of Anglo-Saxonchurches, resulting in pioneering exercises in inten-sive recording at places like Rivenhall, Brixworthand Deerhurst (Taylor 1972); and Richard Harrisstarted calling for the detailed recording of timber-framed buildings (Harris 1977). However, it was tobe some time before this approach was being widelyadvocated.

The advent of archaeologicalrecording

The pace of change increased in the later 1970s whenthe Department of the Environment funded the firstthorough archaeological and documentaryinvestigations of its own properties, such as that atAudley End, undertaken by Paul Drury (Drury1980). The novelty of the approach even for a monu-ment as major as Audley End, may be gauged by thefact that such studies were still, in the 1990s, re-ferred to as exemplars (Howard 1994). The notionthat recording should be an integral part of all his-toric building restoration was not acknowledged byanyone until 1985 when English Heritage (as it hadthen become), made recording a condition for itsgrants for restoration. The lateness of this date isworth bearing in mind. The wheel had gone fullcircle. What Blore and Twopenny had felt to be self-evident 140 years before, had at last been officiallyrecognised.

These detailed studies were originally under-taken by archaeologists. When they moved intobuilding recording in the 1970s and 80s they werequite clear in their own minds that they were doingsomething new, namely that by employing tech-niques derived from excavation they were providingrecords of buildings to a higher level of detail andprecision than were currently being undertaken byanyone else, and that through such recording theywere discovering new facts about the buildings con-cerned. Initially, since their techniques were time-consuming and expensive, the work of archaeolo-gists was largely confined to buildings of nationalimportance. Also, their advent in the world of stand-ing building recording caused a lot of tension andaggravation, and it is easy to see the reasons why.They designated their own work as archaeological,and that done by others as art-historical. Not un-

naturally this caused fur to fly, particularly sincethe majority of those already engaged in buildingrecording did not see themselves as art historians;nor would they be accepted by that profession assuch. Archaeologists also saw themselves as part ofa tradition going back to Willis in the mid 19thcentury. Although Willis was neither an architectnor an archaeologist, and analysed structures in away unknown to his architectural contemporaries,his approach was in fact closer to that of the archi-tects of his period than to that of contemporaryarchaeologists. Those archaeologists who followed,such as St John Hope, were considerably less rigor-ous in their analysis. Thus it is somewhat dubiouswhether there was a tradition as such. In fact, inthe middle of the 20th century Willis became theprophet of medieval architectural historiansdecades before he was discovered by archaeologists.Nonetheless, it is undoubtedly the case thatdetailed recording by archaeologists has not onlymade an immense contribution to the quality ofinterpretation and restoration of individual historicbuildings, but has also pervaded the whole subject,increasing standards of understanding and analy-sis throughout the discipline. This is wholly to thegood.

From the other side of the divide, however, archae-ologists were justifiably seen to be lacking historicalarchitectural background, which sometimes meantthat they took a sledge hammer to crack a nut dis-covering from an exhaustive survey what moreexperienced recorders could have told them in atenth of the time; and their historical knowledge wasoften rudimentary, which left them unable satisfac-torily to place their buildings in an acceptablehistorical or typological context. This last problemperhaps arose because they did not actually see thisas part of their job although others disputed thevalue of such a narrowly defined brief. It is also possi-ble that to begin with the fight for accurate recordingto be recognised as an integral part of conservationled archaeologists to brush aside the fact that record-ing previously had other aims, or to recognise thatthose other aims were still valid. One would like tothink that we have got beyond these divisive views,and that all practitioners are learning to employ anappropriate mix of archaeological, architectural andhistorical analysis.

Closer investigation of what has happened duringthe 20th century would no doubt reveal that the situ-ation was considerably more complex than thesimple picture outlined above. Virtually every state-ment made in this paper could be qualified, andDavid Stocker has already pointed out that the aimsof art historians, as he terms them, and archaeolo-gists are much closer than the stereotypes imply(Stocker 1992). Indeed, the inadequacies of the ste-reotypes become apparent when an archaeologistcan write of Mark Girouards Life in the EnglishCountry House, that it has claims to belong to ar-chaeology as much as to architectural history(Fairclough 1992, 352).

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Conservation and recording

In the last ten years the archaeological approach torecording has become more important as the impetusto understand and record buildings before they arealtered or restored has gained momentum. Not onlyEnglish Heritage but bodies like the National Trust,which used to be somewhat cavalier in theirapproach to the buildings they owned, are now ex-tremely responsible, and a great deal of high qualityanalysis and recording takes place on major monu-ments before work is done. In 1994 the introductionof PPG 15 outlined in David Bakers paper below brought the concept of recording to the attention ofall local authorities and extended it to the wholerange of listed buildings. PPG 15 encourages localauthorities to require an appropriate level of infor-mation prior to restoration or alteration, and whilethis is pursued with differing degrees of rigour, thereis no doubt that the practice of requiring records isgrowing. Previously, recording was something theowner grudgingly submitted to it might waste a bitof time, and time was money but those who did thework were paid for by the government. Now, as indirt archaeology, the owner or developer may be re-quired to provide the record as part of hisapplication. To date, most recording of this kind hasbeen associated with larger and more importantbuildings, but gradually the pressure to see this asan essential part of the conservation process is filter-ing through. One of the problems with getting themessage across to those who deal with smaller build-ings lies, as discussed by Kate Clark, in the shortageof basic training that is currently available for thosewho handle the actual conservation of historic build-ings, be they planners and conservation officers,architects and surveyors, or owners and developers.

The fact that the developer of a small buildingmay be a private individual of limited means cancause problems. Richard Morris (1997) has drawn at-tention to the fact that in some high-powered circlesconservation is beginning to be seen as too intrusiveand as having gone too far. If true, then there may indue course be a backlash from the present situation,and if so, we may see the owners of small buildingsjoining the rebellion, since the matter so directlytouches their private pockets. Responsible conserva-tion officers obviously bear this fact in mind, andtherefore tailor recording requirements to what is es-sential to inform the decision-making process andany subsequent works.

The records

The new situation raises the question of what therole of these records is, whether it is worth makingpartial records, and what happens to them oncemade. Are the records made in response to PPG 15intended only to inform the restoration of that build-ing, thereafter to be consigned to the file for futurereference next time the building has a face lift? Are

they to help the conservation staff of the authorityincrease their knowledge and understanding of localhistoric buildings? Or can they also serve a widerpurpose, available to students and used to educatethe general public in the character of the buildings ofan area? These are issues that Kate Clark, RobinaMcNeil, Bob Meeson and Richard Morriss look atfrom a number of angles.

As Anna Eavis then goes on to ask, where shouldthe completed records be kept, and how can they bemade accessible? Traditionally, the National Monu-ments Records in England, Wales and Scotland werethe recommended repositories. However, the num-ber of records is increasing rapidly and, like all majorarchives, the NMRs have had to review their collect-ing policies. They are often likely now to recommendthat records should be deposited locally, and anywaythis is probably where they are likely to be of mostuse. Are the County Archives or the County Sites andMonuments Records even the correct place? If thematerial is to be used for managing the heritage atdistrict level, how useful is depositing records in acounty SMR? Should they in fact be retained at dis-trict level? This would be the most convenient for thelocal conservation officer, but his or her office is prob-ably not the best place for the conservation ofrecords, and is hardly suitable for public consulta-tion. In the long term the problem may be solved bythe general introduction of compatible databasestaking both text and images. But not only are re-sources and suitable software so far lacking, butmany local authorities have probably not even begunto consider this as a desirable aim. Finally, if, in theinterests of education, the knowledge gained fromsuch recording is to reach a wider public it needspulling together, synthesising, and making avail-able. Who is to do this, in what form, and how will itbe paid for?

Research and independent study

In dirt archaeology, the influence of PPG 16, whichcame into force some years before PPG 15, has beenprofound. Many of the results have been excellent.But some have been questioned, notably by inde-pendent archaeologists such as Martin Biddle andRichard Morris, who have deplored the decrease inemphasis on research and the marginalisation of thevoluntary sector. Since building recording is not de-structive and since the background of recorders is sovaried, a similar distinction between professionalsand volunteers is unlikely to take place at present,although it is certainly something that should beguarded against in the future. A greater danger forbuilding recording lies in the related issues ofresearch and publication. Despite the fact that thereis an ever-increasing number of conferences, thepapers of which are frequently published, and manyarticles are written for specialised journals such asVernacular Architecture, published work tends to besmall in scale, and few if any seminal articles have

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appeared in the last few years. More people than everbefore may be finding their livelihood in this field,but with central funding firmly focused on manage-ment and conservation, there is a real danger thatthinking on the subject will lag behind practice.

One of the problems for the study of vernacularbuildings, in marked contrast to buried archaeology,has always been the limited involvement of universi-ties. As Barry Harrison indicates, continuing educa-tion has traditionally had a valuable role in helpingpeople to understand their local environment. Mean-while, David Clark takes up Kate Clarks concernsand shows that it also has a place in training the pro-fessionals of other disciplines who are involved withconservation to appreciate the importance of under-standing small historic buildings. But while theinterest is certainly there, this is a fast-changingfield which is having to respond to the reorganisationof the university structure and the rapidly develop-ing requirements of the conservation world, so thereis still much to be done.

In full-time university education the subject hasbeen badly neglected. Until recently historic build-ings were only studied either as great architecturewithin art-historical courses or, occasionally, in astructural context, as in the Manchester School.Today, small or vernacular building studies may betaught in schools of archaeology or building conser-vation as at Durham, York and Bournemouth. But,as Jane Grenville indicates, there are still very fewacademics in the field, and some among them aremore concerned with practice than with history ortheory. Thus the major institutional input into thesubject has always been from government, throughthe Commissions, and what are now English Heri-tage, Cadw, and Historic Scotland. Not unnaturally,this has meant that the emphasis has been on thepractical application of the subject, rather than ondeveloping its intellectual basis. Initially thisemphasis meant that the desire to catalogue wasdisproportionally prominent at the expense of under-standing the material. Today it results in apreoccupation with management needs. Conserva-tion, both for individual monuments and wholeareas, has become a major issue. This has led thegovernment to introduce the new controls over themanagement of the historic environment, and thestatement that we need to understand what we con-serve is becoming a commonplace. We recognise thatunderstanding includes the need to record, and thusfor the first time the detailed recording of physicalfabric has a practical application and public moneymay be spent upon it.

This is excellent news, but at the same time it isunfortunate that there is still little money for theoverarching research which is an essential elementof the process. During the listing resurvey the bestlisters acquired unrivalled knowledge of the build-ings in their region. This included theories aboutstructure, form, function and development. Quiterightly, such knowledge found no place in the liststhemselves, but unfortunately it was seldom thought

worth paying extra to capture that knowledge beforethe listers were swept up in their new lives asEnglish Heritage inspectors, Commission investiga-tors, conservation officers, or historic buildingconsultants. This is as much a loss to those whomanage the buildings of the area as it is to historiansor the interested public. Nowadays, thanks to the en-lightened policy of thematic listing, the generalresearch which underpins listing is more likely to bepublished, but publication is still not an inevitableoutcome of more detailed recording. The results ofthe recording of many important small buildingsshould be published, although they may well not bebecause the money to pay the recorder to take timeoff from recording to think, research and write is notforthcoming. This problem has bedevilled dirtarchaeology in the past, and there is a danger, in thisnew world of historic building consultants, that itwill prove a stumbling block in this field as well. As acase in point, two contributors to the conferencewhich gave rise to this book were unable to find thetime to turn their excellent contributions into pub-lishable papers, and Richard Morriss, who kindlystepped into the breach, finds that as a consultant hehas little opportunity to undertake any wide-rangingresearch (p 72).

Likewise, very little money currently goes towardslarge-scale research projects on traditional smallbuildings. The Commissions in Scotland and Walesand the new English Heritage in England are largelyoccupied with working on other kinds of buildings,and are anyway tending to concentrate their limitedfunds on quick and practical results. English Heri-tage supports some relevant research, such as therecent work on historic thatch, and on tree-ringdating softwood. But most government-sponsoredresearch is not concerned with what one may termtraditional or vernacular buildings, for they arethought to be better known and in some basic sensesbetter understood than the majority of industrialand institutional buildings. Also, where publiclyfunded, such research is usually devised with man-agement aims in mind. The pure research whichJane Grenville has termed blue skies research is, ifnot actually frowned upon, at least not thought to bethe business of government (Grenville 1994). Occa-sionally a major research project undertaken simplyto advance knowledge rather than to serve an imme-diate practical end, attracts other forms of funding.The most notable recent example is the project oncruck construction, funded by the Leverhulme Trustand discussed by Nat Alcock, below, but this is rareindeed. The subject is the poorer for this, for all disci-plines need new ideas and new directions, and theyare unlikely to come from projects which have con-servation as their main aim. It is instructive to thinkhow very much less would be known about the datingof medieval timber buildings if it were not for anumber of tree-ring dating programmes which didnot have management or conservation as theirprimary aim, such as the Leverhulme study, theRoyal Commissions work in Kent and in Wales, and

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projects such as those in Shropshire and Hampshire,which are financed by the heroic fund-raising effortsof private individuals.

However, as Edward Roberts shows, tree-ringdating is not, or should not be, an end in itself.History is not just about looking at individual, oreven groups of, documents or buildings and publish-ing them with a commentary; it is about interpretingthe past for the present, and to remain alive it re-quires publications by high quality thinkers withvision. As Pantin wrote it is important to build up abody of generalised knowledge [which] in turn helpsus to understand and diagnose individual speci-mens. That comment is as applicable today as it wasin 1958. In addition we need the new ideas and theo-ries which are likely to come from academics, or atleast from those with time to sit and think. In a paperto the Vernacular Architecture Group a few yearsago Matthew Johnson asked why it was that no newnational synthesis of vernacular building had beenpublished since Eric Mercers English VernacularHouses of 1975 (Johnson 1997). The answer isperhaps two-fold. In the first place academics in thefield are few, and outside the universities no one nowwill fund the research and writing of such a synthe-sis. Secondly, the sheer amount of data which itwould now be necessary to absorb before writing aground-breaking synthesis is likely to put off all butthe most determined researcher. In the long run thisis definitely not good news for the viability andhealth of the subject.

Is it, in fact possible to separate out pure researchin this field? Is it not the case that almost all well-thought-out, serious research is likely to lead toincreased understanding, and will therefore inevita-bly have a management spin-off in the long run?Work on tree-ring dating shows how this can occur,and other, less obviously relevant studies, such asthat on textile mills in West Yorkshire (Giles andGoodall 1992), have had a significant effect on man-agement and conservation policy. The greater ourgeneral understanding of buildings and their devel-opment, the better we will be both at educatingothers and conserving the heritage in a meaningfulway for the future. The historical approach remainsan important adjunct to the practical application ofrecording. In the next century the approach will obvi-ously be different to that taken in the 1950s the

subject would be the poorer if it were not. Recently,some academics have been calling for more attentionto human, social and cultural aspects of vernacularbuildings, and this may also include being lessinsular and learning from what takes place in otherlands and cultures. The governments stated aimsinclude making the heritage more accessible to themany. This means not just conserving buildings oropening them to the public, but understanding themand communicating that understanding so that thepublic come to have a better and more integratedappreciation of what the heritage is and its value tosociety. This is far more all-embracing than simplymanaging. Management is a means to an end, not anend in itself.

Conclusion

The picture, therefore, is one of hope and fears. Onthe one hand, there is generally a greater apprecia-tion of heritage than in the past, not least among theowners and occupiers of historic buildings, whilebetter analysis and recording, undertaken by morepeople and to higher standards, means that build-ings are being understood and conserved far moreadequately than previously. But on the other handthe daunting accumulation of information and em-phasis on management and conservation has led to adowngrading of the research which is so vital inmaintaining those high standards. It is here that theroles of both academics and those who study build-ings for love are essential. There is room for, and arole for, everyone, and the sooner this is officiallyrecognised the better.

Acknowledgements

This paper has its origins in work undertaken forRCHME in connection with a book on recording his-toric buildings which was never completed. I amgrateful to my former colleagues, in particular JohnBold and Hugh Richmond, for their support and en-couragement at that time. More recently the paperhas benefited greatly from the constructive com-ments of Peter Kidson and Bob Meeson.

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2 Out of the shunting yards: one academicsapproach to the recording of smaller vernacularbuildings by Jane Grenville

Introduction

The Scottish poet, Norman MacCaig, wrote a ratherbleak little poem called An Academic in which hedescribes an emotionally desiccated figure obses-sively measuring the immeasurable and reducinggreat literature to a do-it-yourself kit/ of semanticgestures. The third stanza reads:

. . . Trainshave to reach their destinations.But yours, that should beclattering and singingthrough villages and landscapes, nevergets out of the shunting yards.

(MacCaig 1969, 61)

I was asked to write about new approaches to therecording of vernacular buildings for this volume.This inevitably led to a massive writers block, for weall know that there is nothing new under the sun,and I can perform no peculiar magic to transform thefield. But MacCaigs image of the academic enginestuck in its shunting yard seemed to describe notonly my own despair, but also the impasse that build-ing recording appears to have reached. For manyyears we have been exhorted that what we need isnot so much better recording as better ideas (Smith1989, 20), to cook the cake of our raw data in order tosay interesting things about the men, women andchildren who inhabited the houses we study(Johnson 1997, 13). Yet somehow, with a few honour-able exceptions, the train remains stubbornly stuckin the sidings. Syntheses and explicitly theoreticalapproaches attract criticism from the recording fra-ternity for being too broad brush in their approach,too little concerned with the detailed evidence of thebuildings themselves. Building reports, by contrast,are criticised by the synthesisers for their tendencyto add yet more undigested facts to a rising tide ofdata. This chapter is an attempt to couple the engineof theory demanded by Smith and Johnson with thelong train of existing data and recording techniquesso that together they may indeed clatter and singthrough villages and landscapes.

What follows owes much to my colleagues at theUniversity of York, both in the Department ofArchaeology, where a major research interest is therelationship between archaeological fieldwork, theo-retical approaches, analysis of data and final synthe-sis in a comprehensive and credible report, and in theCentre for Medieval Studies, where interdisciplinarywork is the norm and the practical problems it raisesare constantly reviewed. The archaeologists Kate

Giles, Steve Roskams, Rochelle Rowell, and histori-ans Jeremy Goldberg and Sarah Rees Jones, will allrecognise echoes of conversations we have had, whileMartin Carver, the Professor of Archaeology at York,has been very generous with his time and particularlywith his ideas, which I have borrowed in abundancefor this paper. The tables reproduced later areadapted versions of an original idea of his and I amgrateful to him for allowing me to steal his intellectualproperty so shamelessly. Perhaps the greatest debtgoes to those students who have had the courage toput the vision into practice and produced the casestudies with which I have illustrated the points I wishto make. The projects I discuss are not concerned ex-clusively with small vernacular buildings churches,monastic structures and medieval guildhalls will allmake an appearance. That in itself is perhaps amatter of interest. Even now, research interests con-tinue to revolve around higher status structures. Butmy point is that the kind of recording strategies andanalytical paths followed are, or at least could be,equally applied to smaller buildings.

Lastly in this introduction, I wish to consider thedifferent constituencies involved in the recording ofsmaller historic buildings, for they are disparate.What follows in the body of the chapter is, I hope, ofcentral importance to all, but the different intellec-tual cultures of each group leads, I fear, to a certainmutual suspicion. The first and largest constituencyis probably that of the amateur recorders, workingon a voluntary basis, often in groups formed atcounty level or as a result of adult education classes.While it is, of course, dangerous to generalise, itseems that their interest springs initially from an in-tellectual hunger for local history, archaeology andwhat in America would be characterised as folkstudies. This is intellectual curiosity at its purest, asimple desire to know more about ones historicaland topographical context. The work is interestingand wide-ranging and crucially, much, though by nomeans all, of it is published and fairly widely accessi-ble through the pages of Vernacular Architecture, thecounty archaeological and local history journals andlocally-focused monographs. Often empirical and de-scriptive, it is not used as much as it might be inbroader syntheses and some of the research ques-tions posed in this chapter might form suitablestarting points for such work.

The second group is that of the professional record-ers, those operating within heritage agencies atnational and county level or in archaeological units,and those individuals or small firms who haveresponded commercially to the requirements of PPG

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15 for the adequate recording of buildings in advanceof alterations. Normally working in situations equiv-alent to rescue or commercial evaluation in sub-surface archaeology, the constraints and motiva-tions here are different. Whilst all these people havea genuine and fundamental interest in the past,their immediate preoccupations may be moremundane: an ex-student of mine remarked thatalthough I had spent a year drumming into her thatthe three most important factors in the design of a re-cording project were research, research andresearch, the hard truth out in the commercial worldwas that they were money, money and time (insofaras it is money). I take the point, but maintain strenu-ously that the money that society is putting into therecording of buildings (willingly or unwillingly)demands a return in terms of an interesting anddemonstrable narrative about the building. Devel-opers and householders genuinely want to knowwhat we have learnt as a result of our researches.

Lastly, there is the tiny group, in which I placemyself, of those who are paid to undertake researchand who choose the vernacular building stock as theresearch base. Based mainly in higher education,these few have other more arcane constraints, littleunderstood outside the increasingly bureaucraticworld of contemporary academia. Dedicated re-search funding is available only on a competitivebasis from the Arts and Humanities Research Boardand projects must have clearly expressed, identifi-able and achievable goals which will be of use to thewider research community. Funding is not the onlyproblem: fieldwork opportunities are increasinglysqueezed by the constraints of time spent in teachingand administration. So the outlook for major long-term projects is pretty bleak, but it is important tonote that the system forces us constantly to recon-sider our research input and output. The necessity todo so ensures a continual reevaluation of researchaims and agendas. It may well be that this is the newfunction of academic archaeology: to define anddebate research agendas for the use of the widerresearch community, rather than to carry out thatresearch on a large scale. Time will tell whether thisis a sterile navel-gazing exercise or a fruitful meansof imposing some intellectual rigour on a driftingempirical project.

The past in the present:contemporary matters and theresearch agenda

Academics often talk of the research agenda, bywhich is meant the areas of interest that are sharedby researchers in a particular area. Bob Meeson (see p32) alludes to the unfashionableness of researchagendas, which perhaps reinforces my point that dif-ferent constituencies within this broad group ofresearchers are led by different imperatives.Research agendas, so termed, may be out of favouroutside academia but within it, no research agenda

means, quite simply, no research. If one cannot dem-onstrate a broad question or set of questions that onewishes to answer by undertaking a survey, then onecannot gain financial support or the intellectualbacking of ones colleagues. We have to look for thebigger picture. Areas of interest shift from decade todecade, and it has been argued that such shifts reflectonly the political, economic and social conditions ofthe researchers day. I want to take a few moments toconsider this proposition, for it has, in my view, led tosome highly questionable intellectual positions.

In vernacular building studies, as Johnson haspointed out (1997, 16), we can use the approaches ofearlier writers such as Addy (1898) and Innocent(1916) to identify the preoccupations of the time.Addy, for instance, had a close interest in the cul-tural affinities between Britain and Germany, astrong relationship in the 19th century, about to beburst asunder in the 20th. Innocents concerns withcraftsmanship and materials are a reaction to thetechnical developments of his time: the old methodsof craftsmanship are vanishing with the changedconditions of education and industry, and it is amatter for regret that they cannot be adequatelydescribed in writing (1916, 281).

So how far do wider contemporary social concernsimpinge on the research agenda? The first part ofTable 2.1, which we use at York to stimulate debateamong students regarding the relationship of thepresent to the study of past, is the result of manyclassroom conversations. It is endlessly amendedand revised. It is easy to see how some issues havetranslated directly into the academic world femi-nist studies, for instance, rose in the humanities inthe 1970s and 80s in step with the Womens Move-ment and the relationship is obvious, as is itsmodification to gender studies in the caring 90s.Does a current concern in historical research withmasculinities reflect the anti-feminist backlash? Notall current economic and political issues impinge sodirectly upon the choice of research topic, but theirinfluence on the attitudes of the researcher must beacknowledged as Johnson has pointed out: thisawareness of our own subjectivity is the finalelement of our loss of innocence: the innocent beliefthat we can study the past independently of our ownworld (1997, 16). The view that the past is capable ofindependent study is, he avers, arrogant. It is diffi-cult to disagree, although the point is hardly a newone as long ago as 1961 E H Carr made the case con-vincingly in his classic textbook of historical method,What is History?, and scientists have long been con-cerned with the observer effect in experiments. Yetit is a view that has recently been taken to its logicalextreme with some curious results. A more recenttextbook on methodology in history, Keith JenkinsRe-thinking History, takes a post-modern stance andstates that when we study history we are not study-ing the past but what historians have constructedabout the past. In that sense whether or not thepeople in the past had the same or different naturesto us is not only undecidable but also not at issue. In

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that sense the past doesnt enter into it. Our realneed is to establish the presuppositions that histori-ans take to the past (1991, 47). Such a nihilistic andtruly arrogant view, that the only subjects worthy ofstudy are ourselves, suggests that we might as wellleave our studies there, in the first half of Table 2.1and abandon all hope of using our evidence to under-stand the lives of those in the past.

There has, in fact, been much discussion in archae-ology over recent years to echo Jenkins view, andchallenge the idea of a factual past. Whether or notthe past actually happened has absorbed a good dealof academic archaeological thinking over the lastfifteen years or so. This seems to me to be something ofa waste of time. For me, there is no doubt that thehouse in which I am sitting was built and that thatevent took place at some time in the past. We cannotrecapture that event, although we may try to recon-struct it with greater or lesser success. That successdepends upon three things: firstly the quality of theevidence of the past event, secondly, the effectivenesswith which we frame our questions about the event,and thirdly, to some extent bound up with the previ-ous point, our awareness that our views of the past aremediated by our contemporary condition. Sometypical questions asked by archaeologists are sug-gested in the second part of Table 2.1. What provokeschange or encourages continuity? Why are societiesand subsets within them different from one another?Are economics the driving force of society? How doesmaterial culture enable us to understand economy,social organisation, power, belief? Does materialculture carry meaning as well as reflect function? Ifso, how might we interpret this? Which questions wechoose to ask may indeed reflect upon ourselves andour circumstances, but this surely enriches ratherthan impoverishes the field and we should perhapsnot spend too much time ticking one another off forfailing to conform to one or other school of thought.What we do need to beware of is the collection of datafor datas sake. The framing of questions enables us togather data in a focused and useful way.

To provide convincing answers, such questionsmust be matched to evidence of sufficient quality. Tosay that there can be no final single right or

wrong interpretation (Johnson 1997, 15) is tostretch a point, for while it would indeed be unrealis-tic to subscribe to any single explanation, there canbe no doubt that some interpretations are, quitesimply, wrong that the evidence to support them isabsent or too weak to carry the weight of the argu-ment. The way in which we gather data, transformthem into evidence and then provide an explanation(a process sometimes undertaken in reverse order) isthe subject of the next section.

The archaeological process

Table 2.2 illustrates the intellectual processes ofarchaeology. We are driven to investigate by the im-perative of intellectual curiosity or by the require-ments of the conservation process. Something new isdiscovered, for example, a firehood in an ostensiblymid-18th-century polite farmhouse; or the opportu-nity arises to revisit some of the medieval town-houses of York last inspected by the RCHME in the1960s, armed with new research on late medieval ur-banism, and new questions about the social use ofspace to answer; or a listed building is to be altered,and recording in advance of the work is specified. Thevalue of an historic building may be recognised prin-cipally by the general public as aesthetic or as addingto a sense of place, and only secondly as a source ofinformation about the past. Nevertheless, there is afairly widespread eagerness to understand moreabout buildings and their history, as anyone who hastaken a party around an historic town centre andcounted the number of extras who tag on to thegroup can attest. A major discovery or extensivesurvey can usually generate at least a paragraph anda photograph in a local newspaper and the knowl-edge gained adds to the value that the local popula-tion ascribes to its surroundings. By adding to ourknowledge, investigation and explanation may havea direct impact in planning terms a buildingbecomes listed, for instance. Additionally or alterna-tively, the work may alter perceptions of the build-ing, or its type, or its setting, or the history of thosewho have used it, and thus feed back into the loop to

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Contemporary social concerns

Economic systems and fairnessTaxation and resource distribution

Nationalism/Devolution/Relations between Britain andEurope

RacismReligion/ideologyGender issuesTown/countryside divisions

Fashion/peer group identity

Archaeological concerns

Is there a factual past?

What provokes change or encourages continuityWhy are societies and subsets within them different

from one another?How does material culture enable us to understand

economy, social organisation, power, belief?Does material culture carry meaning as well as

function? How might we interpret this?

NotesMaterial culture is a phrase that I shall use repeatedly throughout the rest of this paper it is entirely familiar to archaeologists, but may notbe so widely used in other fields of historical research, i