…at Hampstead Hill Garden and Pergola, a moment frozen in time

The first impression when we chance upon the Hill Garden and Pergola in Hampstead Heath is that we have made a remarkable discovery. Like children who find an abandoned tree house and fill it with ideas about lifelong friendships and imagined adventures, we identify in the run-down structure promises of romance, intrigue, secret meetings and impassioned conversations.

Like children who find an abandoned tree house and fill it with ideas about lifelong friendships and imagined adventures…

The complex was commissioned in 1905 by Lord Leverhulme, a wealthy entrepreneur who wanted a beautiful and comfortable setting for garden parties and gatherings (a whim, granted, but also a way to frame the basic need to socialise we all naturally share). The complex, which some would hesitate to call architecture because of its neither-this-nor-that nature, is little more than a pleasant folly overlooking the hill.

It is particularly scenic when the spring blooms, making a canopy over the exposed timber studs, but the true purpose of the structure shines through when it is either too hot, too wet, or too windy.

The true purpose of the structure shines through when it is either too hot, too wet, or too windy.

On days like these, people naturally gravitate towards the pergola, because it provides basic, uncomplicated shelter. In a way, the structure is an elaborate replica of the moment in anthropological history when humans decided to morph their natural environment to suit their own needs, preserved in stasis for us to ponder on our own nature.

Part of the charm of the place is that its origins are difficult to pin down: it looks sturdy yet it is overgrown with vines, it looks familiar yet it feels like it belongs in a fairytale. The familiarity of the place, however, is not imagined. In fact, we could say that it is the most familiar type of architecture anyone, from anytime and anyplace, can happen upon.

The origins of such an idea stem from one of the first people to try to find a philosophical explanation to architecture: Marc Antoine Laugier. In his 1753 Essay Sur L’Architecture– incidentally a good starting point for anyone wanting to delve into the world of architectural theory- he argued that there is a universal origin of architecture, a common ancestor for all architecture there is to be found anywhere in the world… he called this architectural Eve the Primitive Hut.

This was the first time someone in modern history had tried to pin down the origins of architecture. Although it may seem a bold statement to say Versailles has the same ancestor as the Pyramids of Giza or that a stupa evolved from the same logic as did Machu Picchu, it is easy to see why the idea is so engaging. Looked at universally, architecture lets us see the anthropological tension between the human and nature.

Looked at universally, architecture lets us see the anthropological tension between the human and nature.

What Laugier proposed in his Essay is a simple parable in which a man, much like Lord  Leverhulme, conceived architecture as a way to mediate his vulnerability by shaping his natural environment to better suit his needs. In Laugier’s tale, all he needed to succeed was to follow the natural rules found in his environment.

According to his logic, architecture can be boiled down to several elementary components that should mimic those of the natural world. Vertical structures (columns) support a canopy (roof), with openings to let light and people through (windows and doors). The fact he also includes entablature and pediment as fundamental elements of architecture heavily hints at the Enlightenment author’s narrow view of what the word ‘universal’ means. However, eurocentrism aside, the point of his essay is a valid one: building was a natural step in the evolution of humankind.

Laugier started a chain of thought that led many other authors, from Gottfried Semper to Frank Lloyd Wright, to go back to imagined primitive times to develop their own architectural theories. It is an ahistorical, atemporal way of understanding architecture. Like Laugier’s Primitive Hut, the Pergola oozes atemporality through its overgrown setting and simple aesthetic. It is a building that transcends individual contexts and appeals to us universally.

However, seeing the Primitive Hut as a tale of origins begs a question about destinations. We started this journey with an effort to tame the natural world, but now we have changed the world enough to call the present era the Anthropocene, what needs will architecture respond to? Following contemporary trends of thought, it could be argued that it can address the necessity to store more and more data as our needs make us inseparable from our technology.

Many theoretical projects have already been developed with CPU-like walls that embody a completely digitalised world, as have many that speculate about transparent buildings to erase criminality and corruption, or others that use algae-filled water tanks as their structure in order to create the ultimate “green” building. But these projects are seldom taken very seriously. Indeed, it is much easier to try to read the past than it is to predict the future.

However, there is a good precedent for humankind being able to succeed in facing adversities. As our contemporary Yuval Noah Harari beautifully explores in his best-selling book Sapiens, threats such as famine, disease or vulnerability to the elements almost belong to the past. Our dexterity at shaping the world we live in is probably the most notable of our achievements. From here it might be worth examining what problems need solving and devote our architectural efforts to tackle them: the environmental crisis; the housing crisis; the identity crisis; the inequality crisis?

Our dexterity at shaping the world we live in is probably the most notable of our achievements.

There are plenty of crises to worry about and too much we can do about them that we aren’t. The Pergola is a great example of the Primitive Hut metaphor, a moment frozen in time that shows architecture as a natural step in the development of humankind and as a natural reaction to shielding ourselves from the elements. Maybe it is time for the Modern Hut to make it into our lives, illustrating the next steps now that we have already conquered the world.