Ad Hoc Baroque: Marcel Raymaekers’ Salvage Architecture

Text by Arne Vande Capelle, Stijn Colon, Lionel Devlieger and James Westcott - Rotor

Published in December 2023 the book Ad Hoc Baroque is the result of two years research by members of the Belgian practice Rotor into the oeuvre the Belgian designer and businessman Marcel Raymaekers.

Due in large part to the post-war urbanisation programmes of local government a great deal of Belgium’s built heritage was destroyed from the 1950s onwards; a cultural loss which had the consequence of creating a large market for reclaimed building materials and architectural features that were removed from the demolished buildings. Many of these fragments were reintegrated into new constructions and the work of architect Marcel Raymaekers stands out in this context.

In the words of the authors, Raymaekers was ‘an architecture school dropout relying on help to get his building applications approved, (and) managed to produce a unique body of work between the 1960’s and the 2010’s. His buildings, mostly single-family homes for the new subdivisions, integrated large amounts of salvaged building components.’

The book, which features specially commissioned photographs by Anja Hellebaut and Anthony De Meyere, reveals the extraordinary practice and projects of Raymaekers and demonstrates how ‘his buildings are a remarkable counterweight for the main bulk of the architectural production in Belgium of the last 60 years.’ 

We’re pleased to add this extract from the book to our Archive and to recommend its analysis of Raymaekers career.

AHB Over the last 50 years, many a driver on Belgium’s N75, about half way between Hasselt, capital of the province of Limburg, and Genk, its industrial center, have slowed down and turned their head in curiosity. A typical Limburg pine forest lines one side of the road, but on the other, an unusual sign announces an unusual business to the unsuspecting driver. Two eight-meter-high steel neo-Gothic columns bear aloft a large crown lined with neon tubes and filled with light bulbs. Underneath the crown, a banner announces Horeca - pand te huur – catering premises for rent. And beneath that, in a smaller font, Bouwantiek. Bouwantiek has no obvious English translation; ‘architectural antiques’ doesn’t quite cut it. The word ‘bouw,’ meaning building or construction, leaves more room for interpretation.

Nearby, another eight identical neo-Gothic columns stand in close formation, and running next to the road are five ornate cast-iron lamp posts. Not quite the size of the standard municipal street lights which also line the street, but far more splendid – almost mocking the meager offerings the state can provide. Similarly, the asphalt of the N75 looks rather poor compared to the wealth of natural stone that paves the generously proportioned car park, inviting you to turn off the N75 and pull in.

Doing so, it quickly becomes clear that these grandiose columns and refined lamp posts are but the forward lieutenants of a much larger formation. Behind a cast-iron fence sits an incredible collection of objects that can be referred to in different ways. Building materials, yes, but that does not do them justice.

The stone, steel, oak, and cast-iron elements inspire a certain awe. Upon closer inspection, they reveal themselves as blue limestone cornices, bay windows and entrance portals; white stone column bases and facade decora- tions; steel columns and trusses; stone statues of various creatures; giant oak doors; cast-iron fences... All of them have been carefully dismantled from a wide range of buildings, constructed mostly somewhere in the 19th Century, and demolished from the 1960s onwards. The elements survived though, having been lovingly salvaged and carefully stored here, ready for a second life.

The person responsible for collecting all these items stacked on top of each other refers to them as “historical style objects.” His name: Marcel Raymaekers. Throughout his career, ranging from the 1950s to 2014, these materials were the basis of everything he did. They were his design inspiration, his supply of elements and materials to build with, and they were his source of income.

Set deeper on the plot, a conspicuous building comes into view. One could mistake it for a 19th-century manor farm, a Belle Epoque country estate, or a haunted castle from other bygone times. Getting out of the car, one then follows a path under an improbably thin archway loaded on top with a massive stone lion, under which neon lettering blares Queen of the South. Only now does the building just beyond reveal itself as an astonishing example of what can be achieved using “historical style objects.” This place is built almost entirely out of reclaimed materials.

Queen of the South’s main building was structured with 150-year-old oak beams, its walls composed of locally reclaimed bricks, its roof of reclaimed tiles, and its surfaces adorned with beautifully cut stone elements from townhouses and churches. Inside, somewhere in a hidden corner of its dusty and leaky, but still very impressive showroom, there is a small door with an elegantly curving wooden staircase behind it. If one climbs the stairs and is accepted into his private quarters – a rare privilege usually reserved only for his best clients – one may find Raymaekers himself, sitting alone, now a tenant within the empire he built.

For over 40 years, between 1972 and 2014, this strange palace of salvage served as Raymaekers’ court, his command centre for a wildly alternative architecture practice. From here, Raymaekers gathered the materials, organized their reconditioning, and used them as his main resource, both physically and intellectually, to conceive countless projects across Belgium and beyond.

NOTES

Thanks to Tom Schoonjans at Rotor for his help in posting this extract from Ad Hoc Baroque.

Photographs © Marcel Raymaekers Archive unless otherwise noted.

Posted 5th February 2024.