The Value of Decay

Introduction - By Joel Benichou

At Archive, we’re always looking for new ways to adapt and re-use building fabric, not just through restoration or retrofit, but by rethinking what we value in a building’s life cycle. When we read Abbie Gale’s piece, we were impressed by the fresh, poetic perspective she brought to heritage and decay. Her work doesn’t try to preserve or polish what’s left behind, it lingers in the in-between, where time, weather and memory slowly reshape our built environment.

Abbie recently relocated to Melbourne after completing her Master of Architecture at the University of Nottingham, where she was awarded the sixth-year Architectural Portfolio Prize and had her thesis featured in Dezeen. She brings a quiet depth to her thinking, shaped by hands-on experience working on sensitive heritage sites across London, from community centres in East London to townhouse restorations in the city’s heart. Her approach is thoughtful and grounded, and offers space for imagination, memory and rewilding.

The Value of Decay draws on Caitlin DeSilvey’s concept of ‘curated decay’ and explores what it means to let buildings unravel, rather than hold them in place. For us, it offered a new way of seeing, one that’s less about control and more about allowing space for time, nature and impermanence to leave their mark.

The Value of Decay - By Abbie Gale

An investigation into DeSilvey’s ‘Curated Decay’ as a valuable architectural experience.

We live in a world marked by climate change, economic decline and war, all of which contribute to ongoing architectural decay. Retrofitting decaying structures has become increasingly important as a sustainable design approach, with these buildings evoking sensory experiences that heighten our awareness of the past, present, and future. However, interventions aimed at halting decay such as conservation and preservation can often undermine these experiential qualities. This article explores the value of continued ruination, drawing on Caitlin DeSilvey’s
theory of ‘Curated Decay’ which advocates for ‘non-intervention’ as a heritage practice, suggesting that embracing natural decay can yield interesting results as we “let go” of our control over the effects of time (DeSilvey, 2017).

Part 1: An outline of decay

Decay can refer to material transformations that lead to larger structural changes, appearing to be “additive as well as destructive” (DeSilvey, 2017). Edensor, another modern critic towards ruination, expands on ideas towards architectural decay, and how it transforms the familiar material world as ruins are “stripped down in stages” (Edensor, 2005). This is described in relation to a building’s ‘shearing layers’, suggesting that during ruination a novel layering is unravelled over time, eventually revealing the most durable building components. This is in the form of ‘stuff’, ‘space plan’, ‘services’, ‘skin’, ‘structure’, and ‘site’. These stages of decay enable the building to regress to a state which recalls its own construction, therefore can be seen as building sites full of potential, ready to be revived, enriched and expanded in the present - thus reflecting DeSilvey’s view of decay as “destructive”, but also “additive”.

Part 2: The problem

The fascination with ruins and decay stems from the picturesque qualities of classical ruins in ancient Greece and Rome (Dillon, 2011). This allure is not only aesthetic but also rooted in the relationship between ruins, history, and cultural memory, grounding viewers in a sense of understanding. Ironically, the process of decay, which contributes to the evolution of ruins, is often halted through modern heritage practice which can obscure history through constant repair. An example of this is English Heritage’s ‘Whitby Abbey,’ which, after suffering significant damage in 1914, underwent restoration that introduced new materials and structures, distorting the building’s historical identity. This somewhat inauthentic approach underscores the idea that “restoration is the most total destruction” a building can experience (Ruskin, 1895).

The growing trend of exposing patina in old buildings, reflecting the ‘shabby-chic’ aesthetic, suggests a move toward accepting decay and engaging with the past. However, this still falls short of fully embracing natural decay as, argued by DeSilvey, it does not advocate for completely ‘letting go’ and allowing natural forces to guide transformation. While this ‘counter-preservation’ hints at the future of accepting decay, it overlooks the role of non-human organisms and natural agencies, which can enrich our experience and awareness of the world (Pallasmaa, 1996). Architectural decay, though still constrained, has the potential to engage both humans and non-humans if fully embraced.

Part 3: The solution

DeSilvey (2017) proposes ‘curated decay’ as a non-intervention strategy that embraces the inevitable loss of heritage structures, allowing decay to continue rather than halting it through preservation. ‘Curated decay’ proposes an unconventional approach towards heritage practice and has faced criticism, such as the concern that abandoning conservation efforts might risk the loss of essential histories (Waterton, 2017). However, it is important to consider how decay impacts memory and imagination, which are central to understanding a building’s story. When buildings transition from complete structures to fragmented frames, the most experiential ruins are often formed. Absence becomes a symbol of potential, evoking meaning in our memories and imagination. As mentioned by Hill, 2019, Memory is not a static entity and is induced by shifting states in time. ‘Permanent’ structures such as monuments formulate controlled memories as they are preserved in a specific state of time. Curated decay stands as a dichotomy to this, enabling shifting states of time to occur, potentially unravelling a greater history less controlled by what society ‘chooses’ to remember.

Truly meaningful architecture should awaken all of the senses (Pallasmaa, 1996). Continued decay provides the perfect basis for this, forming a holistic experience of space as materials abstract and invite us to engage – such as the cushioned consistency of moss and the sliminess of rotting wood, whose unfamiliarity invites touch and exploration. Unregulated decay creates a disordering of the material world as objects and space becomes abstracted and fragmented. This often provokes a more explorative experience of the ruin as visitors are encouraged to wonder in all directions, stooping and bending as they become repulsed or attracted to peculiar shapes and textures (Edensor, 2005). This yet again amplifies our feeling of being and awareness of the past, present and future.

It is also important to understand the ecological benefits of curated decay. As we enable ruination, buildings evolve into the wider landscape, encouraging ‘re-wilding’ - a process closely linked to bio-diversity, thought of as an essential response to climatic issues. This ‘re-wilding’ should not be seen as a threatening entity towards the memory of a building, it grounds our understanding of existence within the natural world and should be embraced as part of the building’s identity (DeSilvey, 2017).

Ultimately, architecture’s power to express memory and encourage imagination, resides in its ability to transform over time, unconstrained from human interventions. This is what makes continued ruination so evocative - not only does it allow for a more natural approach towards architecture, it grounds our experience in the past, present and future - an intrinsic quality of ‘lived experience’.

Whilst curated decay provides great potential for future heritage, we need to be within these structures to truly experience their rich history. This therefore raises an important question: how can we embrace decay while maintaining the safety of these structures for human use, without excessive intervention?