Adaptive Reuse: Theoretical Foundations and Design Approaches in Adaptive Reuse
Text by Andrea Crudeli
Published in late 2024 the book Adaptive Reuse: Theoretical Glossary and Design Labs represents a particular moment in the contemporary discourse concerning architecture which intervenes with existing building. It reflects the increasing need for a sophisticated discourse to encapsulate the variety of approaches that can, and are, being be taken with interventional architecture. Additionally the inclusion of a section in the book representing work produced at a Reuse Italy student workshop reflects the now common presence of adaptive reuse as a key element in architectural education.
The introduction to the book, by its editor Andreas Crudeli, is a plea against the wastage created by ‘orthodox conservation’ and for thinking of existing buildings as not merely ‘relics of the past, but as dynamic entities capable of generating new meanings and functions’. The essay makes a case for moving away a static idea of what a building is, towards a mindset where ‘ruins do not signify the end of an architectural gesture but the beginning of a new narrative’.
Theoretical Foundations and Design Approaches in Adaptive Reuse
AC Le Corbusier once described the Parthenon as a machine for stirring emotions, highlighting its extraordinary evocative capacity (Le Corbusier. 1923). This ubiquitous claim underscores the enduring power of architecture to raise profound responses in the human being, and it also opens a wide discourse regarding our relationship with historical heritage. However, this emotional component can be so compelling that it impacts any process of scientific analysis. Today, in the public debate, too often this sentimental factor overwhelms any in-depth evaluation of decisions made regarding the future of built heritage. This is due to the fact that the academic discourse on the issue of reuse is increasingly divergent from the public debate. The prevailing trend of romanticising and commodifying heritage, particularly within the framework of capitalism-driven tourism, necessitates a critical re-evaluation, particularly in Italy. There appears to be a prevailing notion that anything deemed “old” must be classified as “ancient,” remaining frozen in an arbitrary state of constructional stasis, facing a bifurcated fate: either becoming a museum of itself or continuing to deteriorate due to the absence of other socially accepted solutions. The first condition, musealization, often follows the logic of economic profit rather than genuine historical preservation, with financial incentives frequently driving the process. In cases where there is potential for monetization, historical heritage is effectively ‘privatized’ from the public, with access restricted through entry fees, making it more accessible to tourists than to the local community. The recent mural by Nemo’s during an artistic residency at the Novecento Museum, which depicts the buildings of Florence as piggy banks, powerfully illustrates this phenomenon with extraordinary visual drama (1).
Fate is generally harsher regarding the unknown ruins, those outside the main tourist circuits. Often forgotten, these spaces are sometimes reclaimed through local initiatives, but these opportunities rarely become accessible to a wider community. Spaces that are closed off, made available for a few hours a week, leading to a form of carceral musealization that results in almost complete exclusion of people from their spaces, a rare and specific use that again fails to return the everyday dimension of these spaces to the community. I believe the real culprit behind the general condition of uncertainty is the cultural trend of orthodox conservation. These trends stem from an archaeological conception of historical heritage that consistently leads to a substantial strategy of non-intervention.
The concept of static preservation is a propagandistic fallacy. Buildings evolve with each season; they age, deteriorate, and some elements become irreparable, requiring replacement. In this context, the notion of eternal architecture is a myth perpetuated by humanity. The codification of what should be preserved, the methods of preservation, and the extent of such efforts is an ongoing debate, with each generation confronting these questions in its own distinct manner, and for which there are no universal rules (2). Historically, the alterations made to monuments were not determined by their age, the density of their decoration, their popularity, or their perceived significance. The challenge of conservation cannot rely solely on memory.
I believe it is essential to move beyond viewing heritage merely as static monuments intended for economic profit or as frozen relics of the past. Instead, we should embrace the dynamic narrative potential of ruins. To achieve this, we must liberate historic sites from the restrictive ideologies of conservative monumentality. Ruins should not be systematically preserved as unchanging monuments; rather, their evolving stories and the memories they embody should be recognized as components of a broader, ever-changing discourse. Memory, although often connected to physical remnants, should not be rooted in sentimentality but should contribute to a forward-looking interpretation of space. In this perspective, ruins do not signify the end of an architectural gesture but the beginning of a new narrative. Similar to Piranesi’s imaginative engravings (3), where the physical presence of ruins transcends conservative historical interpretations, these structures invite us to engage with the layers
of time they embody. They stand at the intersection of past declinations and future possibilities, urging a re-imagining that goes beyond the conservative approach of their physical remains. This process of continuous evolution in architecture sees each building as an ongoing project, subject to reinterpretation and intervention. Unlike the archaeologist, who seeks to uncover the past, the architect must engage with ruins to uncover potential futures, drawing on a stratigraphic reading of time’s imprint on materials and spaces. This approach reveals that interventions across time have already diversified the meanings and structures of ruins, suggesting that every era’s ideological stance has shaped them in unique ways.
Aldo Rossi’s notion of the historical city as a “complicated and organised form in space and time” (Rossi, Aldo. 1978) mirrors this understanding, where the layering of historical narratives forms a dense palimpsest of cultural and architectural significances. The ongoing dialogue between past and present in this context is not a simple return to the past but a progression where the past and present merge, enriching each other. Henri Bergson’s idea that “memory does not consist at all in a regression of the present into the past but, on the contrary, in a progression of the past into the present” (Bergson, 1959) captures the essence of this dynamic interaction. Every technocratic attempt to erase heritage for profit must be prevented, as this leads to the loss of the extraordinary ability, within Western culture, to frame the present as the legacy of the past, from which to draw lessons and knowledge, and the vision of the future as the imminent construction of the present. Whenever a design act is carried out, the designer’s mindset must be projected forward and backward. Every time it is focused solely on the present, the mission of architecture is lost.
It is in the act of reconstructing, of engaging with the ‘past’ to imagine futures, that we uncover “beneath the stones the secret of the springs” (Yourcenar, 1951). Thus, the work with ruins becomes a collaborative venture with time, a creative act that acknowledges the layers of history while inviting new narratives and uses that resonate with contemporary society. I also believe that the concept of reuse, specifically related to buildings, is intimately linked to the experience of inhabiting a space. Martin Heidegger has articulated from a phenomenological standpoint the essence of a building’s purpose as dwelling, proposing that a building derives its meaning mainly from the act of inhabitation. In this sense, a building can be considered meaningful just through the act of dwelling. (Heidegger, 1971).
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The issue of adaptive reuse can never be viewed in isolation. The convergence of disciplinary fields is remarkable: from construction, technological, and structural issues to expertise in historical and archaeological fields. Forcing this reasoning, the interrelated concepts of “reuse,” “restoration,” and “renovation” converge into a singular comprehensive notion: “critical design”. This expression encapsulates the essence of engaging with ruins, a process that is inherently a journey of discovery and reinterpretation. Initially, this journey entails understanding the ruin’s essence, followed by a phase where design tools are employed to retrace and reimagine its future. Cesare Brandi, a prominent 20th-century theorist, described this process as a “methodological moment of acknowledgment” (Brandi, 1963, 59) necessitating an act of identification with both the physical and historical essence of a structure. The ruins narrate tales and fulfilling needs spanning millennia. Any contemporary intervention must align with modern architectural language, catering to current demands while harmoniously integrating with the structure’s ancient soul. Therefore, a new intervention, through a strategy of layering, should not only resonate with contemporary architectural discourse and today’s needs but also maintain continuity with the building’s historical narrative.
Critical design, understood in the full spectrum of its meanings, can be considered a creative process underpinned by an integration of knowledge, wherein the solution to a problem is achieved through an initial act of data reprocessing followed by a search for transformation possibilities that culminates in a singular, critical final solution. This choice embodies a design consciousness, a layering of educational events that have been absorbed, filtered, and reworked, culminating in the formation of a personal sensitivity. The subjectivity of this consciousness always involves a relational theme, a dialogue that the designer establishes with the ruin. In this sense, the ruin assumes an active role, albeit inanimate, acting as a subject that expresses needs and encapsulates design themes to be extrapolated. In this sense, the intervention is always framed as a transformation. It is not about constructing a new building, but about the evolution of the preceding one, and the sedimentation is a process that must be realized as intelligible.
Accordingly, one of the most important strategies of intervening on ruins is designing fragments. This process involves crafting architecture that is simultaneously incomplete and a completion of what never fully materialised. Such an endeavor requires architects to perpetually reinterpret the past, filtering these reimaginations through contemporary sensibilities rather than reproducing historical forms without critical engagement. In this sense, the adaptive reuse project involves introducing new traces of contemporaneity within an open system of older signs. This involves embedding one fragment within another, aiming for the establishment of a new unity. It’s a work that proceeds by fragments, considering the intelligibility of the layers, analysing their value, and conceiving them all together at the same moment, embodying what Tafuri described as “a nearly natural relationship with the multiplicity of historical times” (Tafuri, 1984).
What should be preserved is the authorial intent and historical authenticity. In this sense, the interaction between the new and the ancient is necessarily a heterogeneous relationship, but it must be rich in relational vectors, moving towards a new unity. Thus, the language of craftsmanship can hardly be juxtaposed with that of the machine. However, an artisanal approach is needed to semantically link the two terms of the equation. Operations like collage, although they imbue an object with meaning through metonymy and place it alongside another, advance the debate and bring us closer to a solution. New architecture must sprout from the ancient, as if the old architecture itself produces a future possibility, as if our present, our language, and technology were already implicitly and secretly contained in the past.
Again Tafuri, in his analysis of Carlo Scarpa’s work, emphasises the conceptualisation of construction within pre-existing structures and the balance between memory and innovation (4). Transforming historic spaces into exhibition venues highlights the relationship between the site and design, preservation of historical value, and the need for innovation. Museum spaces become ideal settings for architectural experimentation, providing a unique opportunity to integrate analysis with design amid the spatial and temporal discontinuities required by exhibitions.
The creative process within this context adheres also to empirical rules and personal sensitivity strategies, deeply rooted in the atmospheric dimension of the setting, akin to Christian Norberg-Schulz’s theoretical discourse on the concept of Genius Loci (5). A dialogical approach involves conceiving the ruin as a multi-dimensional matrix, composed of cultural facts sedimented over time, a complex system of reference to engage with. The architect is therefore called upon to accept the structural depth of a ruin, its morphology, and its historical stratification, and then to provide a new interpretation, embodying in the gesture of a new fragment the entire narration of the artifact, its past layering and its subsequent transformation over time. This interaction underscores the quest for unity as a long-term endeavor, catalyzing dialogues that aim for diversity integration. Such awareness positions individuals within a broader cultural narrative, challenging them to infuse their actions with meaning amidst an era marked by the commodification of architecture. Unity can be seen as a long-term project, a recurring quest that triggers a dialogic process, seeking the integration of diversities. Being aware of participating in a broad cultural process and giving meaning to one’s actions represents a generational challenge at this particular historical moment, in an era where merely profit-oriented constructions are predominant.
The issue of adaptive reuse, beyond its theoretical connotations, also plays an important role in the civic dimension. Given the urgencies of our contemporary world, reusing buildings also means reducing consumption and reusing resources already produced by previous civilisations. In this sense, the philosophical underpinnings of adaptive reuse encompass a pivotal ecological notion. It is universally recognized that the construction sector significantly contributes to the global energy demand. The demolition and subsequent disposal of buildings precipitate the permanent dissipation of the energy expended in their creation, compelling the allocation of additional energy resources for new constructions (6). Consequently, within the milieu of the 21st century, the embracement of adaptive reuse methodologies for extant structures is posited as a collective imperative to alleviate the ramifications of the global climate crisis. Adaptive reuse emerges as a quintessential intervention
in the contemporary dialogue on sustainability, emphasizing the necessity for innovative and considerate engagement with our built environment’s historical legacy. In the adaptive reuse paradigm, an essential responsibility emerges: to ameliorate urban conditions, reduce environmental repercussions, and rejuvenate the inherent characteristics and ambiance of pre-existing buildings, spaces, and materials.
The experiential knowledge derived from adaptive reuse projects, characterised by its continuity and interconnection, significantly contributes to these initiatives, ensuring they augment the well-being of individuals and communities. The assimilation of the adaptability of existing buildings is identified as a critical strategy for augmenting resource efficiency, extending the operational lifespan of architectural assets, and propelling a rapid shift towards a circular economic model. This synthesis is imperative for fortifying the built environment’s capacity to withstand future changes, navigate evolving environmental and societal challenges, curtail waste generation, and exploit regenerative capabilities, thus maximizing the utility of existing infrastructural resources. The construction industry plays a significant role in resource consumption, exerting a profound influence on both economic and environmental spheres. It accounts for roughly 25% to 30% of waste production within the European Union (7). The circular economy model promotes a sustainable economic framework aimed at waste eradication and resource value maximisation through the application of R-strategies, as reuse, recycling, and reduction. This paradigm accentuates the importance of implementing sustainable methodologies within the construction sector to mitigate environmental impacts while unlocking economic benefits.
In conclusion, today the discourse surrounding the adaptive reuse of historical architecture must transcend the poor paradigms of static preservation and commercialization. Instead, we should embrace a vision that sees ruins not merely as relics of the past, but as dynamic entities capable of generating new meanings and functions. This approach requires moving beyond the sentimental romanticization of heritage, which often results in either economic exploitation or conservation paralysis. The challenge lies in integrating a nuanced understanding of history with contemporary needs, acknowledging that architecture is an evolving practice, constantly reshaped by the passage of time and shifting societal values.
The concept of critical design serves as a vital framework for this endeavor, advocating for a layered approach that respects the historical essence of ruins while fostering innovative reinterpretations. By engaging with the past to envision potential futures, we can ensure that these spaces continue to be relevant, functional, and accessible to communities. This perspective aligns with a broader ecological and cultural imperative: to repurpose existing structures as a means of reducing environmental impact and promoting sustainability.
As we navigate the complex relationship between memory and modernity, the ultimate goal should be to craft a built environment that honours its historical roots while dynamically contributing to the future.
Footnotes
1. The controversy stems from a mural by street artist Nemo’s, commissioned by Palazzo Vecchio as part of an artist residency project on Via Palazzuolo, linked to the Museo Novecento, in 2024. This mural aims to highlight issues such as the unaffordable housing market, where properties are treated as investments, and the use of public spaces for private events favoring luxury brands, thus depriving the community of shared resources. It also criticizes the ‘Open to Meraviglia’ marketing campaign, which reduces Florence to a mere theme park for entertainment.
2. Carlo Ceschi, in Teoria e Storia del Restauro, 1970, stated that a work of art truly exists when its inheritors make it resonate with their own experience and share it with others. It requires recognition and recreation within oneself, bringing it to life spiritually and culturally in harmony with one’s own thoughts. Every era has its unique way of engaging with the past, sometimes embracing it, sometimes rejecting it. According to Ceschi, we are all aware of the human experiences, historical events, and natural phenomena that have shaped previous eras. As we develop our historical awareness and cultural understanding, we observe the transformations that cities, towns, and even individual buildings have undergone over time.
3. Piranesi’s Campo Marzio, 1762, offers an imaginative reconstruction of the ancient Campus Martius in Rome. This map and accompanying engravings are not merely topographical but rather a speculative and interpretative exercise that blends historical accuracy with Piranesi’s imaginative vision.
4. Manfredo Tafuri’s analysis of Carlo Scarpa’s work highlighted his ability to navigate the tensions between history and modernity, craftsmanship and innovation, and form and meaning. Tafuri viewed Scarpa as an architect who was not only skilled in the art of building but also deeply engaged with the intellectual and cultural dimensions of architecture.
5. Christian Norberg-Schulz’s concept of genius loci, or the “spirit of place,” emphasizes the importance of understanding and respecting the unique character of a location in architectural design. According to Norberg-Schulz, each place has a distinct identity shaped by its physical, cultural, and histori- cal context, which influences how people experience and connect with their surroundings. He argued that successful architecture should harmonize with both natural and cultural landscapes, creating spaces that resonate with their environment and enhance the human experience. By focusing on the genius loci, architects can design buildings that are not only functional but also mean- ingful, fostering a sense of belonging and continuity.
6. For a reference that discusses the environmental and energy implications of building demolition and construction see: Dixit, Manish K. (2019), “Life cycle embodied energy analysis of residential buildings: A review of literature to investigate embodied energy parameters”, in Renewable and Sustainable Energy Reviews, 79, 390-413.This paper examines the embodied energy of residential buildings throughout their lifecycle, including demolition and construction, and highlights the importance of considering these factors to reduce overall energy consumption and environmental impact.
7. European Commission (2020), “Circular Economy Action Plan: For a Cleaner and More Competitive Europe. Publications Office of the European Union” is a document that outlines the significant role of the construction industry in resource use and waste generation, highlighting that construction and demolition waste accounts for a large portion of waste in the EU. Specifically, it mentions that this sector contributes significantly to total waste production, aligning with the quoted figures of 25% to 30%. The European Commission’s reports often provide detailed data and analysis on such topics, making them reliable sources for information on construction and environmental impact.
Bibliography
Bergson, Henri. 1959. Matière et mémoire. Paris: Presses Universitaires De France.
Brandi, Cesare. 1963. Teoria del restauro. Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura.
Heidegger, Martin. 1971. Poetry, Language, Thought. New York: Harper & Row
Le Corbusier. 1923. “Vers une Architecture”. In L’Esprit Nouveau. Paris.
Rossi, Aldo. 1978. L’architettura della città. Padova: Clap.
Tafuri, Manfredo. 1984. Raffaello architetto. MIlano: Electa.
Yourcenar, Marguerite. 1951. Mémories d’Hadrien suivi de Carnets de notes de Mémories d’Adrien.
Paris: Librairie Plon.
NOTES
Many thanks to Andrea Crudeli and the team at STH Press for this help and generosity.
The cover image is by Francesca Molle. The other illustrations were added for this post by Building on the Built. The text was also minimally abridged.
Posted 31st January 2025.