ANGLIA POLYTECHNIC UNIVERSITY
(now
Anglia Ruskin University )

 BUILT ENVIRONMENT AND BIBLICAL THEOLOGY

MAKING CONNECTIONS: DISCERNING RELATIONSHIPS

MICHAEL POWELL

 

 Doctor of Philosophy  February 2003

 

14 - HOMES: EPISTLES AND REVELATION

 

Also marvellous in a room is the light that comes through the windows of that room and belongs to the room. The sun does not realise how wonderful it is until after a room is made. A man's creation, the making of a room, is just nothing short of a miracle. Just think, that a man can claim a slice of the sun, (Louis Kahn).

 

14.1 Purpose

 

The purpose of this Section is to consider the topic of housing and home as it arises in the contexts of Chelmsford and Tasmania , and built environmental generally_

Via contemporary Jerusalem , the centripetal pull is towards New Jerusalem as dwelling for God and human beings

 

14.2 Nature of the theme

Housing, from mansion to cottage, forms a major part of the built environments of Chelmsford and Tasmania . The theme may be regarded as all pervasive and all important.

Design and technical aspects, rich in detail, help forge connections between countries and eras.

The theme is both physical and spiritual in nature.

 

14.3 Chelmsford

 

This section can only provide some examples of the housing and homes facet of Chelmsford . Consideration will be given to Hylands House, nineteenth century expansion in the town, current developments in Chelmsford , and the evolution of South Woodham Ferrers.

 

Abraham (1988) and Foreman (1990, 1999) contribute texts on Hylands House, the former being an architectural text and the latter one of more general local history. Abraham notes the beginning of Hylands in the early eighteenth century as being `a large, though unpretentious, Early Georgian, two-storeyed mansion built of red brick with stone quoins, the front having a range of seven windows, the central three flanked by pilasters carrying a pediment, and crowned by a dormer roof rising behind a high parapet'. (Abraham 1988:7).

 

The client was Sir John Comyns, MP for Maldon, at one time Chief Baron of the Exchequer, and the builder probably a local person familiar with this type of property.

 

A subsequent owner, Comelius Kortright, commissioned Humphrey Repton to suggest improvements:

 

From contemporary observations in [Repton's Red Book report since lost] and from references to Hylands by Repton himself, we can catch a glimpse of what he proposed for the old house and the extra accommodation his client wanted: a winged villa, clothed in a "modem" or "Grecian" style (as he called it), with a tetrastyle portico in the Corinthian Order carried through both storeys on the south front. This would associate well with the gentle landscape of rolling meadows and well-cultivated fields in which Hylands was situated.

(Abraham 1988:8)

 

Repton's work included the covering of the red brickwork with white stucco. An east wing was added as part of the scheme. Abraham notes that Hylands has always retained the neo­Greek architecture and naturalistic landscape given it by Kortright and Repton. The next owner was the Dutch-Huguenot born banker Pierre Labouchere who acquired Repton's Red Book and `completed the symmetrical composition by adding a matching west wing to house a servants hall and quarters' (Abraham 1988:9), thus making the neo-classical mansion complete. Subsequent owners added unbalanced additional height to the wings and replaced much of the classical interior decoration. The house fell into dilapidation and decay, being bought by Chelmsford Borough Council in 1966.

 

Foreman (1990,1999) explains that in 1967 Hylands became a Grade II Listed Building and a Grade ll* (meaning that restoration work must achieve highest standards of authenticity and be approved by English Heritage) in 1975. In 1985 a major grant from English Heritage enabled work to begin on restoration of the house to its early nineteenth century design. The house was opened to the public in 1995. Renovation continues in parallel with the use of the building for civic and other functions.

 

Chelmsford Borough Council (www.chelmsfondbc.gov.uk/leisure/04/03/00) describes the process of restoration, noting the partnership between craftsmen, some of whom worked on the restoration of Windsor Castle , conservators and historians. Some materials have been salvaged for re-use. It is also pointed out that, in addition to the visible restoration work, certain walls have had to be underpinned and precautions taken against the possibility of damp penetration.

 

In the town, some sites experienced what today would be called change-of-use to housing of a good quality. For example, in 1776 the White Horse Inn was sold to John Harriott, who, Grieve informs us, pulled it down to build two brick private houses. Grieve continues:

 

One of these, `fitted up in the most elegant manner', with a coach house and walled garden planted with fruit trees, was occupied in 1787 by Dr William Kirkland. The other was taken by Mr and Mrs Roffe, who ran a boarding school for young ladies and gentlemen in the front part of it. The back part was let by the Roffes as `genteel lodgings' suitable for an elderly gentleman or lady with one servant, free from the noise of the school, and 'commanding a prospect nearly equal to Richmond Hill ' across the meadows and river to Springfield .

(Grieve 1994:191)

 

1n the 1830's good quality house developments were taking place in the New London Road area. Behind this new thoroughfare into Chelmsford , side streets of cheap cottage development grew up. Similar developments with names such as Railway Street and Railway Square grew up between the new railway and Broomfield Road . Social and economic differentiation was signified in terms of house drainage:

 

The New London Road Developers had laid a brick barrel drain close to the road, discharging into the Can. The handsome properties being built in the road could be connected to this sewer by arrangement with the Company_ But there was no such facility for the rows of cheap speculative housing for rent... By 1849 there were more than a hundred cottages in Upper Bridge Road and New Writtle Street , all draining into roadside ditches.

(Grieve 1994: 335)

 

To gain insight into the contemporary housing scene we will follow the map published by Chelmsford Borough Council and Essex County Council (undated) of the extensive cycle routes that link the town centre with the newer and extensive residential areas. As well as passing through housing areas, the routes pass through parks, particularly Central Park , and beside the rivers.

 

Current developments (in 2001), such as Beaulieu Park , incorporate facilities for cycling and are well signposted to the older cycle routes. Narrow roadways with passing bays run alongside separate cycle and pedestrian lanes. These developments incorporate public open spaces provided by the developers. These vary from the formal park at Monarch's Gate enclosed by railings, flowerbeds well stocked, all centred on the facsimile rotunda of the town's water conduit, to open spaces akin to village greens. One of the striking things about some of the new developments is their elevation, their height, and the views to either the town or the adjoining countryside. Here, on the boundary of development, the pedestrian or cyclist is aware of landscape and of environment being made.

 

The houses being built are themselves high, having three if not more storeys. Views from upper windows are wider than the views from the ground. These developments, designed for high density and the most economic use of land are the reverse of `colonial' bungalow developments. Design emphasis on sustainability and conservation of energy means that windows are small. Thus one has to go to the window and make the effort to look out. Only a visit at night would enable one to see the sky through the skylights, which occur on top floors where the rooms are partly in the roof. Where there is no good 'window-with-a-view' the houses feel quite enclosed, almost ark-like. The workmanship, to the informed but casual visitor, seems of a reasonable standard. With features such as skylights it needs to be as good as Noah's bitumen work appears to have been. In one area some relatively ordinary houses have high ornamental gates to their carport areas, again evoking a sense of quite marked enclosure.

 

The `bible' for these new developments is the Essex Design Guide. It encourages the use of local styles. Some of the weather-boarded (or equivalent material) houses are reminiscent of the coastal areas of Maldon and Bumham-on-Crouch. In one case the developers combine this kind of elevational treatment with an open style internal layout, which leads them to describe the house as 'colonial'. The conservatory is an integral part of the house, making it very light. The evocation is of New England , to which, for example, Thomas Hooker emigrated when it was no longer possible for him to continue as a preacher in Chelmsford . `Thomas Hooker, appointed lecturer at Chelmsford in about 1626, attracted a large following "and the light of his ministry shone throughout the whole county of Essex ".' (Smith 1992:11). Hooker went first to the Netherlands ; high Dutch gables feature on the newest Chelmsford house developments.

 

This approach to design endeavours to be local and moderate - although the boldly coloured red or blue elevations of a small number of the largest houses may give some observers cause for doubt. One of the new developments immediately adjoins the area known as Melbourne, (itself adjoining the Boarded Barns estate) and Chelmsford's only 1960's high­rise block of flats, the fifteen-storey Melbourne Court. When one approaches Chelmsford , this vies with the cathedral for dominance of the skyline. Its complexity of aerials forms a kind of tangled, skyline sculpture.

 

Frankland (1992) uses illustration to reveal the story of South Woodham Ferrers, the major township within the Borough of Chelmsford. He sees South Woodham Ferrers as largely a product of the twentieth century, although he traces the early history of the riverside and market settlement comprehensively. A key event was the opening of the railway in June 1889 with a junction at Woodham.

 

In the decade after the opening of the railway, Woodham became the scene of what came to be termed plotland development. Farmland had become uneconomic. The 538-acre Champions Farm was sold in 1893 to an estate agent who laid it out in plots suitable for individual sale. A similar procedure was followed at Eyotts Farm. In the latter case, the estate owners provided neither made up roads nor services but they did lay down requirements on minimum value of property, a 20 foot building line, prohibition of structures such as huts and caravans and the obligation for properties to have their frontages to the road. Purchasers included Londoners and the local reception was mixed: For example, newcomers were described as squatters whose style of living `might do in the Australian bush or the American backwoods but it is hardly what one might expect in the highly civilised county of Essex '. (Frankland 1992 above plate 36).

 

Frankland's photographs show the properties to be of a simple timber clad nature. He comments that requirements on minimum value seem not always to have been observed. The 1920's saw the construction by Chelmsford Rural District Council of the first four council houses in the area and of fully complete homes for sale by private developers. Metalled roads, telephone and electricity services arrived at this time but main drainage not until 1966. Proposals for major development arose in the 1970's, with a growth in population from the 900 of the late 1950's to a projected 18000. In the early 1960's much of the development was in the form of uninspired roads of speculative houses. Later stages have followed design recommendations and criteria, under which South Woodham Ferrers' houses have utilised designs and materials typical of more established places in the county. By the 1980's families were moving in at the rate of ten per week. A full complement of social and community buildings has since been built. Frankland's overall conclusion is positive:

 

Although the town has largely succeeded in achieving the county council's basic planning aims, established at the commencement of the project, it is perhaps in achieving an unwritten and understated objective that particular success can be claimed. Rather than creating just another ordinary housing development, the public and private agencies concerned with the town's growth have succeeded in creating a place with a distinctive character which, as the town matures, should stand as a dear demonstration of what positive planning can achieve.

(Frankland 1992 above plate 169)

 

It is beneficial that this different type of development is within the present Chelmsford Borough area.

 

14.4 Tasmania

In Tasmania housing is one of the main elements of built environment that carries in itself the stories of Aborigines' and settlers. of rural people and of urban. At the heart of being a settler was the finding of a site and the building of a home, however simple or, by comparison, extensive. The only provider was the settler himself.

 

Early Tasmanian homes have been a preoccupation for writers, painters and photographers. Today's visitor spends a considerable amount of time reflecting on houses as he walks the streets or drives through the rural areas. Cocker (1972) published a collection of some 50 paintings, which she produced from older photographs and sketches. She loved these places and wanted to record them, I love old houses and their history... I intended making a record of old homes for myself, as so many have been demolished, or are about to be'. (Cocker 1972:11). Between 1982 and 1991, the local newspaper, The Advocate, sponsored an annual photographic exhibition in the Devonport Art Gallery on a range of housing subjects. Each year, a different photographer explored his subject in a way of his own choosing, either with or without a written commentary by another person.

 

The more enterprising and fortunate settlers built pleasant homesteads such as Hawley House, 1878, whose architect and builder was William Gadsby, and Larooma, also 1878, which Cocker believes to have incorporated shipwreck timber. Cocker has this to say about the house known as Woodcote:

 

`Woodcote', North Down, is believed to have been built about 1863. A pit over a bank about twenty yards on the south side of the house held the saw for the split timber. Exterior and interior walls and ceilings are of split palings, with the exception of a few which have been replaced. Originally the roof was shingles. They are now covered with corrugated iron. The front door opens into a passage 7 feet wide and 15 feet long, which widens into a hexagonal ha11.2 The six doors, some cedar and some Blackwood, open into various rooms and passages. All the floorboards were pit sawn, as indicated by the semi-circular groove marks.

(Cocker 1973,1984:30)

 

Ramsay (1957,1980) tells of a newcomer to Don industry in 1872, John Henry. Sent from Melbourne to examine the financial affairs of the Don Trading Company that was in difficulty, he became so confident in the future that he bought a share in the business for himself and built a new house:

 

Mr Henry lost no time in making his home at Don and towards the end of the same year he called for tenders for the erection of a residence for himself and his family. He selected a beautiful situation to the southwest of the village high up on the hill where a lovely panorama could be obtained. The house contained ten rooms, lathed and plastered, with large veranda and it was given the name of Symbister.

(Ramsay 1957, 1980:108)

 

Sir Edward Braddon, Premier of Tasmania, bought Treglith and carried out considerable improvements to it. He died in 1904. Regrettably:

 

His old house was destroyed by fire in October 1913.... It was a two storey building containing many rooms, and stood in the midst of beautifully laid out grounds. It commanded one of the most extensive views in the north of Tasmania , and at the same time was a familiar landmark to travellers either by road or sea. Some very fine paintings were on several of the door panels which were the work of Lady Braddon.

(Ramsay 1980:97)

 

Although James Fenton's activities and interests ranged across the whole of Tasmania , and across Devon in particular, Forth was `home'. His last house there was called simply Lenna, the Tasmanian Aborigine word for `home'.3 (Cocker 1973:56).

 

In June 2001, to mark the centenary of James' death, the only surviving part of James and Helena Fenton's gravestone was brought from Launceston, where they had both died and been buried, and incorporated in a cairn in the cemetery looking down over the Forth . For them this place is, Lenna, home, peace.

 

On the edge of the cemetery the local Lions Club is (in 2001) restoring a tiny, traditional cottage. The foundation and plinth of small, hand-placed rocks is exposed. Part of the timber cladding is off, showing the rough timber framing. This is someone else's future home in the making.

 

For the fourth in the Homes of Devon series on the theme of `the rural poor' the photographer chose as his topic the homes of the rural poor as found in solitary, remote places all over Devon. The commentary says:

All the houses in this portfolio are distinctive, largely because these homes have been built by the people themselves. Eucaiypt and Sassafras Pine have something brick doesn't. The conventional homes of the suburbs have largely been put in place by contractors using common building blocks. As a result they do not have the same feel that Peter Manchester has been able to capture. The architectural style is that of the bits and pieces house. The material has come from a large number of separate sources. The window frames and doors may have different origins. Roofing iron takes on a patchwork experience as conditions permit or demand.

(Devonport Gallery and Arts Centre 1985, unnumbered)

 

The loneliness of these homes was, one senses from the text, both marked and relieved by the postal box that each one had at the entrance of its access lane. `Usually a piece of wood with a container perched atop, it was a visible link with the outside world. A singularly important medium for communication. Each letter box had that impact.' (Devon port Gallery and Arts Centre 1985, unnumbered)

 

There were many poor homes in the townships. Gardam (1996) describes the basic cottage of her own childhood and reflects on the arduousness of life within such homes:

 

The cottages of my ancestors at River Don were humble in the extreme, as were the majority of others there. Our particular inheritance was of timber construction lined with scrim and paper and had a verandah on two sides. Design-wise its floor plan resembled a hot cross bun, divided into four equal rooms. Ours had no hallway,- each room just led into the next...

 

The bush carpenters' workmanship was poor; draughts found their way behind the wallpaper, and walls whistled on windy nights_ Ours was obviously built without any geometrical aids. Few comers were square, nor were the doors perpendicular. What it lacked in architecture, however, it made up for in strength. The roof construction was a veritable maze of timber struts which probably held the whole building together and prevented it from falling over when on occasions the front foundations collapsed...

(Gardam 1996:283)

The construction of the hydro gave rise to the need for temporary homes for a new generation of immigrant workers. Poles who had served with the Australian army in World War If came to work on these massive projects in very harsh conditions. The Tasmanian novelist Flanagan captures the adversity of the situation:

 

[They] knew it to be a snow-covered Hydro Electric Commission construction camp called Butler 's Gorge that sat like a sore in the wildemess of the rain forest.

In this land of infinite space, the huts were built cheek by jowl, as if the buildings too cowered in shivering huddles before the force and weight and silence of the unknowable, that might possibly be benign, might possibly even not care about people, but which their terrible histories... could only allow them to fear....

It was the time of the beginning of the great dam building boom. The time the new Australians came to do the wog-work of dam building, because work in the cities, which the new Australians would have preferred, was Australians' work.

(Flanagan 1997:4)

 

Things got better in time. Lupton tells of Bronte Park :

Bronte Park was a new breed of HEC village, planned in advance to ensure the living conditions were attractive enough to enable the Commission to compete in the strong labour market. Care was taken in the siting of the houses, leaving as many trees as possible, and amenities such as playing fields were included in the original design instead of being tacked on later.

(Lupton 1999:180)

 

Within the framework of The Homes of Devon series of exhibitions and publications, Binks (1983) has summarised the history of Australian housing for the Devonport context. To begin, he cites Edward Braddon's comment of 1878: The two townships [Torquay and Formby] are composed of a few weatherboard houses, built hither and thither, with little regard to regularity and less as to the picturesque'. (Binks 1984: unnumbered). These were square boxes and the building of them continued into the 1880's and 90's but 'other plans appeared more frequently, partly through the influence of "domestic Gothic", partly as a move towards more individuality of form'. Binks makes the details clear:

 

The most popular departure involved a T-plan, with the roof divided into two ridges at right angles to each other, one ending in a projecting gable. The front room, usually the lounge, jutted forward on one side of the entrance, making the house asymmetrical. The recessed side invariably had a short verandah added... [H]ouses on this plan.... were built most frequently of weatherboard, though brick examples are not hard to find. Some ornamentation was added in the form of either cast iron lacework or decorative joinery along the verandah. The more expensive houses, both brick and weatherboard, usually had a bow window to add light and space to the front room.

(Binks 1984: unnumbered)

 

Binks sees these houses of the 1880's and 90's as having `solid worth' and suggests that their builders adopted `whatever features were useful and decorative'. (Binks 1984: unnumbered).

 

The 1920's and 30's saw the arrival from California via Sydney of the bungalow style:

 

The heavy, low-pitched roof spread protecting across the house, dipping to low jutting eaves, with a broad gable facing forward and usually one or two others at the sides. The front gable overhung the entrance alcove and this gable was supported by sturdy brick pillars, which tapered upwards from broad bases... The bungalow allowed a range of minor variations and materials, brick and tile being favoured, stucco and diamond windows coming later.

(Binks 1984: unnumbered)

 

By the 1970's and 80's other features of Devonport's housing had become apparent, such as the raising of the house on a high foundation wall so that garage, store, workshop and playroom could be accommodated beneath. At this time, home ownership `became the expectation of every couple... a fully furnished, carpeted, venetian-frtted brick veneer house of fifteen or twenty squares. And it was within the reach of every couple - the banks, the building societies and the developers made sure of that.' (Binks 1984).

 

The need for social housing is a significant matter. A discussion with Housing Tasmania, successor to the Housing Commission and the co-ordinating agency for social housing, revealed that a development of two multi-purpose units (MPU's) is taking place in Latrobe. These are units adaptable for disabled and other users. This is the only current new-build social housing project in a whole area administered from and including Devonport. No judgements or conclusions should be made about this bare fact because it is the policy of Housing Tasmania to spot purchase existing properties spread around the community to meet needs that arise and avoid any stigma.

 

However 1803 properties were owned in Devonport in 1999 (www.dhhs.tas.gov.au/housingl p321/17l09/01) Some of these are in small estates and others embodied in general areas. Anglicare community workers in Devonport indicate orally that often people with short term housing need cannot be accommodated locally and have to be sent to Launceston or Hobart , and that unemployment, or insecure employment, is the main cause of financial difficulty with housing.

 

Anglicare feel that in Devonport there are acute contrasts between magnificent housing for a few, adequate housing for most, and lack of it for a vulnerable minority. This contrast became strikingly apparent to the writer in East Devonport . The area immediately adjacent to the waterside has an air of depression in places. It is only ten minutes walk up the steep roads perpendicular to the waterside to be in areas with very good houses and magnificent views across the river.

 

At the time of writing current housing projects in Devonport included about a dozen high specification bungalows being built in prestigious locations by what appeared to be speculative developers. In addition, a handful of prestigious Victorian or similar age houses were undergoing substantial refurbishment.

 

14.5 General Built Environment texts

 

Two texts are considered. The first connects housing in Australia with housing in England at the level of the concept of `home', while the second offers directions for contemporary UK neighbourhood and town development. Each, in its way, points to a kind of `New Jerusalem'.

 

Davison (2000) traces patterns of connection between Australian homes and their European antecedents. He starts by explaining the complexity of the term `home' in this context. On the one hand, it is the home country, such as England , Scotland or Ireland , and a smaller area within it such as London . In this sense home is distant and, for later generations, remote in time as well. On the other hand, for the settler and the immigrant `home' is in Australia , it is now and it is what is being made and built. `Home was thus both an idea and a place, an object of affection located far away, in the homeland from which most colonials had come, and near at hand, in the houses which they had built in the new country.' (Davison 2000:6).

 

Davison believes that many of the immigrants from London originated in the inner areas and social classes D and E, the earners of small but relatively regular wages. They were the kind of people who became involved in house purchase through the building society movement, itself rooted in Evangelical religion. James Begg, a Free Church clergyman and housing reformer, had said in Happy Homes and How to Get Them, a tract of 1866: `The idea of Home, with all its delightful associations, its concentrated power and far-reaching influences, is as certainly of Divine origin as the existence of man himself'. (Davison 2000:10). Such people went to Australia with dreams of freedom from neighbours, landlords and bosses in a land of promise. In spite of all the physical and economic vicissitudes they experienced, `Our own home circle in our own house' was, Davison asserts, `the ideal for which thousands of immigrants crossed the sea, and in which, even when all else failed, they continued to rejoice.' (Davison 2000:21).

 

Rudlin and Falk (1999) focus on neighbourbood in the UK in the 21St century. They put forward a picture of growth in relation to UK households: `If we were to assume that household growth in the next century continued at the same pace as it has done in the twentieth century and that this was accommodated with new house-building, we will have built 19 million new homes by 2100. If we were to assume that, in addition to this, we will replace 15000 existing homes a year, the total housing stock in the year 2100 will be just over 38 million, more than half of which are yet to be built.' (Rudlin and Falk 1999:3). Their question therefore concerns how building must be done now if the future is to be like that.

 

Their answer is that urban environments need to be created and recreated in ways that encourage people back to towns and cities, renewing the option of urban living. They go into much detail of:

 

how conservation needs to be envisaged, how choices need to be made

how community is involved and how costs need to be managed.

 

They argue that planning by itself is unable to bring about the necessary quality of change; organic growth is also necessary:

 

The plan has provided little more than the trellis up which the vine of the city can grow. It gives form to the whole and this form can enhance the beauty, function and coherence of the city. But the trellis does not sustain the vine and many of the world's most beautiful cities have grown organically without such artificial support. The city planner may be able to guide and shape this process of natural growth but cannot replace it. Where this has happened, as in modem planned cities such as new towns, the result has been to create artificial, soulless places which have not proved popular. It is this process of organic growth that we need to study if we are to rediscover the art of creating successful urban neighbourhoods...

(Rudlin and Falk 1999:232)

 

The organic approach depends on a sense of evolving and developing tradition, `an understanding of the town, its people and its history and an empathy with the place... Change needs to be incremental, thus allowing `the town to evolve gradually in response to changing circumstances and economic conditions, so that it is constantly able to reshape itself to meet its needs while retaining a continuity of character.' (Rudlin and Falk 1999:235). The symbol needs to be that of a garden or an orchard. Rudlin and Falk's conclusion is at once a vision and a powerful challenge:

 

The challenge is no longer to criticise the present or to visualise utopia, but to mend what we have inherited and to make what we add truly sustainable. The central issue is not how we spend money but how we use resources ...The twenty-first century will rediscover that towns and cities are not only mankind's greatest invention and cultural achievement, but that sustainable urban neighbourhoods will give us back the time and balance that we have lost.

(Rudlin and Falk 1999:259)

 

14.6 General Biblical Theology texts

 

Three texts have been chosen for comment here. One refers to biblical times and two to contemporary Jerusalem .

 

Deist (2000) in his consideration of The Material Culture of Me Bible, distinguishes sharply between constructions erected by private people on farmsteads or in villages, towns, or cities, and royal and administrative type buildings. The latter 'were mostly carefully planned, firmly constructed and situated in well-planned quarters of cities and towns'. (Deist 2000:195). Farmhouses, Deist explains, were single or double storeyed and built of dry-laid limestone or sun-dried bricks of mud or straw. In plan they were rectangular, varying in area from 400 - 1200 square metres. The area was partly enclosed and partly open as a courtyard, divided into an earth-floored domestic area and a paved area for the storage of supplies and tools.

 

If planning is the underlying philosophy for the development of royal, civic and military structures, it is custom and customary practice that are at the heart of house construction for private individuals. Custom is not `decided' upon; custom `happens'. Customs `pervade the economic, social, political and religious behaviour of a cultural unit and regulate behaviour and procedures in all things cultural: ploughing, sowing, harvesting, winnowing, making wine, buying and selling, constructing a building, manufacturing jewellery...'(Deist 2000:236). Customs such as these develop from routines for which people find they share common values.

 

Assi (2002) states that there are 5000 houses in the Old City of Jerusalem that need an average of $US25000 spent on them in major repairs. For historical and political reasons there are special needs in Palestinian areas. There are problems with absentee landlords and lack of clear ownership. A planned programme of work is in hand. Its aims are:

 

ˇ        to provide minimum comfort standards

ˇ        to keep the Palestinian population safe

ˇ        to make use of traditional craft skills

ˇ        to raise cultural awareness for the architectural patrimony and historical environment of the Old City

 

Assi presents a case study of the restoration of two courtyard houses in Area 21, Hosh Nseibeh and Hosh Jaber. The former is 250-300 years old and the latter dates from the seventeenth century. Hosh Nseibah, two floors high, is occupied by three families and Hosh Jeber, three floors high, by eight families totalling 80 persons. Work began with a detailed survey and analysis of the dwellings, noting the alterations made over time, some of them inappropriate and of poor quality. Proposals for works such as the formation of new bathrooms in the courtyard areas and the subdivision of rooms have to be carefully negotiated between the occupants and the technical officers responsible for the standards of the new works. Assi explains further:

 

Rehabilitation requires a different way of working than the design of new houses. It is distinct, both in the construction work and how it is organized. Time spent in understanding faults and supervising work on site is much greater than generally expected. Site work cannot be expected to run as smoothly as new construction. Though the scale of design may be limited, this does not make it trivial. Altering houses to modem standards, while preserving their essential character, requires considerable sensitivity.

(Assi 2002:81)

 

Assi concludes her paper thus: `The architect is faced with many challenges when trying to retain as much of the authenticity of the buildings as possible and, at the same time, fulfilling the wishes and needs of the residents.' (Assi 2002:85).

 

Assi's professional view of Jerusalem homes is complemented by that of a US citizen who worked for ten years with the Jerusalem Post. Hoffman (2001) builds her book around the theme of windows, entitling it House of Windows: portraits from a Jerusalem neighbourhood. She begins her first portrait in this way:

 

I felt tall and absurdly omniscient when I stared from our windows. There were seven, all told, six of which had rounded tops and long, graceful sides, sunken into the walls... the windows possessed ghostly, calming properties: Standing still and looking out, I had a peculiar feeling of privilege at being able to peer at the world from above, as though I truly had come to rest at the earth's epicentre, the Jerusalem of the medieval maps...

 

..... what I could see from my perch was not really a view, in the obvious tourist­ snapshot sense of the word, but an average landscape made breathtaking by my enchanted angle. On a clear day it was possible to drag a chair close to the second window in the front room, stand delicately on it, pitch to the left, and catch a comer of the chocolate wrapper gold that glittered from the Dome of the Rock.

(Hoffman 2001:7)

 

The block in which Hoffman's apartment was located was four storeys high. It brought her near to the sky. `Most astounding of all', she writes, Was the sky.... Living beside it meant subjecting one's moods to its whims. Rolling grey storm clouds would amass, then yield to dainty flecks of cumulus; pungently-chilled air heralded rain, in its season, and during summer the hot desert wind would creep through our windows, making movement a strain.' (Hoffman 2000:9).

 

It seems that here, in a Jerusalem apartment, a modem journalist from California and her husband, almost live the very experience of the creation of sky, sun, wind and rain.

 

14.7 Epistles and Revelation

 

The Epistles are addressed to the saints at Ephesus , Philippi and Colossae , (Epn. 1:1, Phil. 1:1, Col. 1:1) implying that these cities were home to most members of the Christian communities in them.

 

The kenotic text of Philippians 2:5-11 implies Christ leaving a home with God and subsequently returning to it.

 

Revelation 21:2-3 cs explicit in stating that there will be a New Jerusalem and then `... the home of God [will be] among mortals. He will dwell with them.' Malina (2000) sees the New Jerusalem as a terminal city, to which all shall come

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14.8 Synthesis and centripetal dynamic

 

Of all the Sections, cones of meaning and dynamic trajectories considered this has been the most straight forward.

 

It has moved across the surface of the world from Chelmsford to Tasmania and back to ancient Palestine and contemporary Jerusalem , with cross connections such as those between Europe and Australia described by Davison. In each location and time there has been noted housing of widely variable kinds providing homes for widely varying people, with all the social, political, design and technological questions entailed.

 

Wherever and whenever there are human beings, there is the matter of housing and home, the physical artefact and the spiritual concept. Although Rudlin and Falk address the practical situation, their approach to stewardship, mending, renewal and return to the city may be regarded as a profoundly spiritual one.

 

Similarly, wherever there is biblical theology there is the idea of a new city , a coming city, a city that can be, to use the Aborigine word, lenna, home, home to all peoples. It can be that because, in the imagery of Revelation, it is the home of God among mortals.

 

The centripetal pull is of all homes into one.

 

   

This completes the ten detailed studies. General discussion is resumed in Sections 15 and 16 which now follow

 

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