“The defence of the individuality of places is the defence of the individuality of ourselves,” wrote British architectural critic Ian Nairn.
In the 1970s, the Virgin Islands proudly boasted, “Yes, We’re Different.” It was that difference that endeared me to these islands and prompted my book Virgin Island Sketches. But that difference is now cast aside in favour of being the same as everywhere else.
In the Caribbean, the word “environment” is taken to mean the landscape. Consequently, a blind eye is turned towards the built environment. If left alone, nature can look after herself. It is what we build upon the land that disfigures the landscape. The commercialisation of beaches, all for the sake of the cruise ship dollar, is a case in point. What in the short term we perceive as development in the long term may prove to be a retrograde step that future generations of Virgin Islanders will regret.
I am not advocating that we put the clock back and live under thatch. What I am suggesting is that we take greater care in designing buildings and structures so that we retain the islands’ natural beauty.
By design, I am not referring to building codes and standards. Natural ways of cooling interior spaces, by way of jalousies and tray ceilings, have given way to glazed windows and air conditioning. A college degree will not guarantee a structure that is pleasing to the eye and fit for its purpose. Up to 100 years ago, it was the master craftsperson who determined good design, and from their workbench beauty and function unselfconsciously equated.
Such work is exemplified in lines that English writer Frank Kendon included in his introduction to the 1937 book The Village Carpenter, by master carpenter Walter Rose: “His hands were engines, and his eye his gauge to measure beauty by.”
Natural materials
It is difficult to build something ugly out of natural materials. Stone and hardwoods contribute to beauty, but concrete is less amenable. An architect’s job is surely not just to get concrete and steel to stick together, but to consider the aesthetics of their creation.
All too often, however, this crucial creative design element is absent in their work. Detailing, texture and scale are beyond their understanding. It would appear that many in the profession are visually impaired.
Architecture — and, by extension, the built environment — is our most visible art form: We live with it and look at it every day of our lives. Unlike paintings, furniture and the clothes we wear, buildings cannot be moved around or changed at whim. Mistakes cast in concrete are difficult to erase.
Vernacular comes from within, not from without. A building — and, by extension, a lifestyle — that may be fitting for Florida is not necessarily fitting for Virgin Islanders living in the VI. Nor is it fitting for visitors in search of something different.
Built environment
We need to develop a greater sensitivity for the built environment. To do otherwise will result in the islands degenerating into squalor which no amount of “beautification” can hide. God stopped making land at the dawn of creation. It therefore behooves us to utilise what we have inherited in a way that will make future generations proud.
Virgin Islanders must regain confidence in their own identity and encourage visitors to accept that “Yes, We’re Different.”
This commentary was amended to correct the attribution of the lines included in Frank Kendon’s introduction.