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De Betoncentrale als Terraformingsmachine: Verstedelijking via betoncentrales of de vermarkting van cement als terraformingspraktijk: De Belgische case, 1955-85
Full text linkThis article reconstructs how the development of a dense network of concrete plants was crucial in making concrete the basic material of an urbanizing construction culture. Belgium is treated as a paradigmatic case to argue that one – perhaps the main – reason why concrete became the most dominant building material in the world was due to the intensive way in which it was distributed and made available as a self-evident consumer product. The article describes how the relentless output of horizontal rotary kilns compelled the cement industry to adopt a bold 'politics of realization' – ensuring that massive cement volumes being produced actually found their way to the market. The solution lie in the development of a dense logistics network of concrete plants that efficiently produced and delivered ready-mix concrete directly to construction sites – actively shaping urbanization regimes capable of absorbing large volumes of concrete. Spurred on by cement giants CBR (Cimenteries et Briqueteries Réunies), CO (Ciments d’Obourg) and CCB (Compagnie des Ciments Belges), together with the establishment of the BVSB (Belgian Professional Association for Ready-Mix Concrete, 1962) and the IB joint venture (Inter-Beton, 1967), this strategy was increasingly formalized.
In the fragmented Belgian urban landscape, concrete plants spread rapidly across the entire country. During the 1960s and ’70s, this new concrete regime put a veritable form of ‘terraforming’ into practice. Important material flows of sand, water and gravel were rationalized and distributed in bulk to the concrete plants in the network. From there, concrete spread across the country, driving a surge in construction —from major infrastructure to everyday urban practices—that transformed the Belgian landscape.
As Belgium’s construction recession in the late 1970s deepened into a full-blown crisis in the early 1980s, the ready-mix concrete sector was sustained through major public contracts and a strategic pivot toward specialized concrete mixes that unlocked new niche markets. In this way, the concrete plant became increasingly entrenched as an indisputable cause of Belgian urbanization’s ‘cement addiction’. By focusing on the concrete plant, the article provides a new spatial perspective on the political ecology of concrete and raises questions about the sustainability of a building culture in which the overproduction and overcon-sumption of this extractive material is a structural component.This article reconstructs how the development of a dense network of concrete plants was crucial in making concrete the basic material of an urbanizing construction culture. Belgium is treated as a paradigmatic case to argue that one – perhaps the main – reason why concrete became the most dominant building material in the world was due to the intensive way in which it was distributed and made available as a self-evident consumer product. The article describes how the relentless output of horizontal rotary kilns compelled the cement industry to adopt a bold 'politics of realization' – ensuring that massive cement volumes being produced actually found their way to the market. The solution lie in the development of a dense logistics network of concrete plants that efficiently produced and delivered ready-mix concrete directly to construction sites – actively shaping urbanization regimes capable of absorbing large volumes of concrete. Spurred on by cement giants CBR (Cimenteries et Briqueteries Réunies), CO (Ciments d’Obourg) and CCB (Compagnie des Ciments Belges), together with the establishment of the BVSB (Belgian Professional Association for Ready-Mix Concrete, 1962) and the IB joint venture (Inter-Beton, 1967), this strategy was increasingly formalized.
In the fragmented Belgian urban landscape, concrete plants spread rapidly across the entire country. During the 1960s and ’70s, this new concrete regime put a veritable form of ‘terraforming’ into practice. Important material flows of sand, water and gravel were rationalized and distributed in bulk to the concrete plants in the network. From there, concrete spread across the country, driving a surge in construction —from major infrastructure to everyday urban practices—that transformed the Belgian landscape.
As Belgium’s construction recession in the late 1970s deepened into a full-blown crisis in the early 1980s, the ready-mix concrete sector was sustained through major public contracts and a strategic pivot toward specialized concrete mixes that unlocked new niche markets. In this way, the concrete plant became increasingly entrenched as an indisputable cause of Belgian urbanization’s ‘cement addiction’. By focusing on the concrete plant, the article provides a new spatial perspective on the political ecology of concrete and raises questions about the sustainability of a building culture in which the overproduction and overcon-sumption of this extractive material is a structural component
Wet en rede: Het auteursrecht van architecten in historisch perspectief
Full text linkSince its introduction in 1912, the Auteurswet (Authors’ Act .copyright act) has protected works that have an ‘individual, original character’ and ‘bear the personal stamp of the maker’. The act grants that maker exclusive rights, including the right to exploitation. This means that the maker can decide for themselves how, where and when the work is made public or copied. In addition, the act confers personality rights, which protect the maker against changes or other impairments of the work that might damage their honour and reputation.
Although the Auteurswet did not have its origins in the building industry, the act has certainly demonstrated its relevance to that sector, given that architects’ designs also fall under the protection of the act. Since 1912 several authors’ rights lawsuits have been filed in the context of the construction industry. These have focused in particular on the question of whether alterations to buildings encroach on the rights of the architect. Nowadays the debate often revolves around the tension between the creative vision of the architect on the one hand and functional or social interests on the other, such as a change of purpose. This leads to a weighing of interests in which the key consideration is how these interests relate to the personality rights of the architect.
This article focuses on conflicts arising from changes to existing buildings during their architects’ lifetime. Four case histories are considered: the De Maerle villa (1917‑1918) in Huizen, the Metropool multi‑tenancy building (1991‑1992) in Amsterdam, the Ministry of Agriculture, Trade and Industry (2015) in The Hague, and the Naturalis Natural History Museum (2017) in Leiden. The key question is whether the arguments used in the evaluation and outcome of these cases have changed over time.
The analysis of the four cases reveals that legislation, including the Auteurswet, is constantly subject to interpretation. In summary, the cases demonstrate that the act continues to evolve, partly in response to social change. There remains the important question of whether the application of the act (in other words, the interpretation of the weighing of interests) to architects’ designs is still consistent with current practice. The societal importance of preserving existing buildings and retrofitting them for sustainability is increasing. Demolition has become less acceptable from the viewpoint of sustainability, which only serves to heighten the tension between architectural authors’ rights and societal interests.
Yet the jurisprudence shows that there is still scope for these societal interests. In the weighing of interests, arguments in favour of preserving a design are set against reasons for change, such as changing uses, modern functional requirements and sustainability. The cases discussed here illustrate how the interpretation of the Auteurswet has evolved and adapted to social change. This includes a greater focus on the personality rights of the maker. Although that does not result in a complete interdiction on changes to buildings, it does help to clarify the scope of these rights. It ensures that the Auteurswet remains balanced between creative freedom on the one hand and societal interests on the other, with room for continued development in the future.Since its introduction in 1912, the Auteurswet (Authors’ Act .copyright act) has protected works that have an ‘individual, original character’ and ‘bear the personal stamp of the maker’. The act grants that maker exclusive rights, including the right to exploitation. This means that the maker can decide for themselves how, where and when the work is made public or copied. In addition, the act confers personality rights, which protect the maker against changes or other impairments of the work that might damage their honour and reputation.
Although the Auteurswet did not have its origins in the building industry, the act has certainly demonstrated its relevance to that sector, given that architects’ designs also fall under the protection of the act. Since 1912 several authors’ rights lawsuits have been filed in the context of the construction industry. These have focused in particular on the question of whether alterations to buildings encroach on the rights of the architect. Nowadays the debate often revolves around the tension between the creative vision of the architect on the one hand and functional or social interests on the other, such as a change of purpose. This leads to a weighing of interests in which the key consideration is how these interests relate to the personality rights of the architect.
This article focuses on conflicts arising from changes to existing buildings during their architects’ lifetime. Four case histories are considered: the De Maerle villa (1917‑1918) in Huizen, the Metropool multi‑tenancy building (1991‑1992) in Amsterdam, the Ministry of Agriculture, Trade and Industry (2015) in The Hague, and the Naturalis Natural History Museum (2017) in Leiden. The key question is whether the arguments used in the evaluation and outcome of these cases have changed over time.
The analysis of the four cases reveals that legislation, including the Auteurswet, is constantly subject to interpretation. In summary, the cases demonstrate that the act continues to evolve, partly in response to social change. There remains the important question of whether the application of the act (in other words, the interpretation of the weighing of interests) to architects’ designs is still consistent with current practice. The societal importance of preserving existing buildings and retrofitting them for sustainability is increasing. Demolition has become less acceptable from the viewpoint of sustainability, which only serves to heighten the tension between architectural authors’ rights and societal interests.
Yet the jurisprudence shows that there is still scope for these societal interests. In the weighing of interests, arguments in favour of preserving a design are set against reasons for change, such as changing uses, modern functional requirements and sustainability. The cases discussed here illustrate how the interpretation of the Auteurswet has evolved and adapted to social change. This includes a greater focus on the personality rights of the maker. Although that does not result in a complete interdiction on changes to buildings, it does help to clarify the scope of these rights. It ensures that the Auteurswet remains balanced between creative freedom on the one hand and societal interests on the other, with room for continued development in the future
Rombout Verhulst 1624-1698 : Beeldhouwer in de Lage Landen
Full text linkReview of a book written by Stefan GlasbergenBespreking van een boek van Stefan Glasberge
Housing for Workers, by Workers: Contradictions in English and Belgian Garden Cities
No full textHousing programmes in the early twentieth century were meant to overcome shortages of dwellings for workers in many European industrial centres. Yet what was often overlooked was the fact that housing needed to be built by construction labour, and that labour also needed housing in order to be able to continue working. This article considers how housing scarcity intersected with the overlooked issue of labour scarcity: how the needs of construction workers were or were not addressed. It focuses on garden cities and related suburban settlements in England and Belgium – forms of development which, given their scale, required the mobilization of workers to remote sites, where workers often became the first occupants of what they were building.
The first section considers the earliest garden cities in the UK, designed by Raymond Unwin and his associates: Letchworth, founded in 1903 by Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City Association; and Gretna, developed by the Ministry of Munitions during the First World War to support weapons production. The second section focuses on the post-armistice British housebuilding programme, when local municipalities were granted special subsidies to provide dwellings for workers on large suburban estates. The third section looks at reconstruction efforts in the devastated Westhoek region of Belgium, led by Raphaël Verwilghen and the Dienst der Verwoeste Gewesten (Department of Devastated Regions).
In the British context, the contradictions in housing programmes were clearly articulated: cheap construction labour was needed for cheap dwellings, and this led to a paradox when the producers (workers) were also the consumers (residents). The underlying problem was that cheapness obscured actual costs. In Belgium, the connections were not so obvious: housing was promoted as a do-it-yourself activity, and even social housing was facilitated through a variety of special-interest groups. Nevertheless, in both cases, the unprecedented need for housing in both contexts prompted innovative efforts to house those who build.Housing programmes in the early twentieth century were meant to overcome shortages of dwellings for workers in many European industrial centres. Yet what was often overlooked was the fact that housing needed to be built by construction labour, and that labour also needed housing in order to be able to continue working. This article considers how housing scarcity intersected with the overlooked issue of labour scarcity: how the needs of construction workers were or were not addressed. It focuses on garden cities and related suburban settlements in England and Belgium – forms of development which, given their scale, required the mobilization of workers to remote sites, where workers often became the first occupants of what they were building.
The first section considers the earliest garden cities in the UK, designed by Raymond Unwin and his associates: Letchworth, founded in 1903 by Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City Association; and Gretna, developed by the Ministry of Munitions during the First World War to support weapons production. The second section focuses on the post-armistice British housebuilding programme, when local municipalities were granted special subsidies to provide dwellings for workers on large suburban estates. The third section looks at reconstruction efforts in the devastated Westhoek region of Belgium, led by Raphaël Verwilghen and the Dienst der Verwoeste Gewesten (Department of Devastated Regions).
In the British context, the contradictions in housing programmes were clearly articulated: cheap construction labour was needed for cheap dwellings, and this led to a paradox when the producers (workers) were also the consumers (residents). The underlying problem was that cheapness obscured actual costs. In Belgium, the connections were not so obvious: housing was promoted as a do-it-yourself activity, and even social housing was facilitated through a variety of special-interest groups. Nevertheless, in both cases, the unprecedented need for housing in both contexts prompted innovative efforts to house those who build
Bouwmaterialen 1940-1990: Vernieuwing, constructie, toepassing
Full text linkReview of a book written by Kees Somer and Ronald Stenvert (eds)Bespreking van een boek van Kees Somer en Ronald Stenvert (red.
Theodor Sanders 1847-1927: De Vergeten Compagnon van Berlage
Full text linkReview of a book written by Arjan den Boer.Review of a book written by Arjan den Boer
Berlages Indische Reis/ Berlage Di Nusantara/ Berlage's Journey to the Indies: EEN NIEUWE VERTELLING VAN EEN VERGETEN KOLONIAAL VERHAAL./ SEBUAH NARASI BARU DARI KISAH COLONIAL YANG TERLUPAKAN./ A NEW NARRATION OF A FORGOTTEN COLONIAL STORY.
No full textReview of a book written by Angeline Basuki, Loes van Iperen, Ester van Steekelenburg, Petra Timmer (red.).Review of a book written by Angeline Basuki, Loes van Iperen, Ester van Steekelenburg, Petra Timmer (red.)
Het Paleis aan de Maas : Giudici’s nieuwe zeemagazijn van de Rotterdamse Admiraliteit (1785-1788)
Full text linkThe new arsenal for the ‘Admiralty of the Meuse’, built between 1785 and 1788 on Reuzeneiland on the east side of Rotterdam, was one of the Dutch Republic’s largest structures, yet it has been all but forgotten since it burned to the ground in 1891. Fifteen surviving design drawings by its architect, the Italian Giovanni Giudici (1746-1819), provide insight into the design phases, technical detailing and the evolving design of the facade and interior. The arsenal’s primary function was to store naval weaponry and ship’s supplies. However, its architecture belied this utilitarian purpose. The symmetrical, monumental facade with checked pilaster strips, main floor, balconies and sculptures on the crowning attic block lent the building a palatial aura and explains why it was also known as ‘the Palace’. Giudici’s design differed from Daniël Stalpaert’s seventeenth-century warehouses for the Dutch East India Company (VOC) and the Amsterdam Admiralty. Although also of monumental design, their warehouse function was clearly visible in the their exteriors.
The palatial design of the Rotterdam arsenal had to do with the building’s hybrid nature: part warehouse, part office and part ‘events hall’. In addition to storage spaces, workshops and offices, a large part of the building was reserved for ceremonial rooms. The west wing included a grand entrance hall, a library room, an armoury and a salon overlooking the river. Another surprising presence in an arsenal was a huge kitchen equipped for large banquets. The central wing contained a huge multifunctional space with an eleven-metre clear span made possible by a massive auxiliary structure from which the floor joists of the second storey were suspended. This space could be used for storage, but also for large-scale affairs like the visit of Tsar Alexander I in 1814.
Thanks to its location at the bend in the river Maas, with a specially designed water-facing facade, the arsenal occupied a prominent place in Rotterdam’s cityscape. As such it was in keeping with wider eighteenth-century trends whereby admiralty buildings, in addition to their function as logistical infrastructure, also gave expression to military and political ambitions. This Rotterdam example demonstrates how utilitarian architecture could be deployed for visual representation on an urban scale and an analysis of its building history contributes to a better understanding of the role of maritime architecture in the late eighteenth-century Republic.Het nieuwe zeemagazijn van de Admiraliteit op de Maze, gebouwd tussen 1785 en 1788 op het Reuzeneiland aan de oostkant van Rotterdam, was een van de grootste bouwwerken uit de Republiek der Nederlanden, desalniettemin is het nadat het in 1891 afbrandde bijna geheel in de vergetelheid geraakt. Vijftien bewaarde ontwerptekeningen van de architect, de Italiaan Giovanni Giudici (1746-1819), geven inzicht in de ontwerpfases, technische detaillering en veranderende vormgeving van façade en interieur. Het zeemagazijn had primair de functie van opslag van wapentuig en scheepsmateriaal. Toch verried de architectuur deze utilitaire bestemming niet. De symmetrische, monumentale gevel met geblokte lisenen, bel-etage, balkons en beeldhouwwerk op het bekronende attiekblok gaf het gebouw een paleisachtig voorkomen. Vandaar dat het zeemagazijn in Rotterdam ook wel bekend stond als het ‘Paleis’. Giudici’s ontwerp week af van Stalpaerts zeventiende-eeuwse pakhuizen van de VOC en Amsterdamse Admiraliteit, die weliswaar ook een monumentale vormgeving hadden, maar waarvan de functie als pakhuis zichtbaar tot uitdrukking kwam in het exterieur.
De paleisachtige vormgeving van het Rotterdamse magazijn hield verband met het hybride karakter van het gebouw: deels pakhuis, deels kantoor en deels ‘evenementenhal’. Naast opslagruimtes, werkplaatsen en kantoren was een aanzienlijk deel van het gebouw bestemd voor representatieve vertrekken. Het westelijke paviljoen bevatte onder andere een monumentale vestibule, een bibliotheekkamer, een wapenkamer en een salon met uitzicht op de rivier. Opvallend voor een magazijn is ook de aanwezigheid van een forse keuken die was toegerust voor grote eetfestijnen. In het middenpaviljoen werd een enorme multifunctionele ruimte gecreëerd met een vrije overspanning van elf meter, mogelijk gemaakt door een zware hulpconstructie, waaraan de vloerbalken van de tweede verdieping werden opgehangen. Deze ruimte kon worden gebruikt voor opslag, maar ook voor grootschalige evenementen, zoals het bezoek van tsaar Alexander I in 1814.
Door zijn ligging in de bocht van de Maas, met een bewust ontworpen façade gericht op de waterzijde, speelde het zeemagazijn een prominente rol in het stadsbeeld van Rotterdam. Daarmee sluit het aan bij bredere achttiende-eeuwse ontwikkelingen waarin admiraliteitsgebouwen niet alleen als logistieke infrastructuur fungeerden, maar ook militaire en politieke ambities tot uitdrukking brachten. Het Rotterdamse voorbeeld toont hoe utilitaire architectuur kon worden ingezet voor visuele representatie op stedelijke schaal en de bouwhistorische analyse ervan draagt bij aan een beter begrip van de rol van maritieme bouwkunst in de late achttiende-eeuwse Republiek
Rietveld Schröderhuis: Een biografie van het huis
Full text linkReview of a book written by Natalie Dubois and Jessica van GeelReview of a book written by Natalie Dubois and Jessica van Gee
Tweegesprek Bussels-Keblusek
No full text‘Tweegesprek’ is een nieuwe, jaarlijkse rubriek in ons Bulletin waarin we een actueel en prikkelend vraagstuk binnen de interessegebieden van de KNOB (architectuur- en bouwgeschiedenis, stedenbouw, cultuurlandschap en monumentenzorg) centraal stellen. Op een Stelling volgt een Tegenstelling, waarin een vakgenoot reageert. Zo ontstaat een open dialoog tussen collega’s in het veld.‘Tweegesprek’ is een nieuwe, jaarlijkse rubriek in ons Bulletin waarin we een actueel en prikkelend vraagstuk binnen de interessegebieden van de KNOB (architectuur- en bouwgeschiedenis, stedenbouw, cultuurlandschap en monumentenzorg) centraal stellen. Op een Stelling volgt een Tegenstelling, waarin een vakgenoot reageert. Zo ontstaat een open dialoog tussen collega’s in het veld