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Is beauty in the eye of the beholder? Or is it the business of awards
committees and sociocultural mandates? Róisín Hanlon discusses the good, the bad, and the ugly sides of the architectural world

words by Róisín HANLON

At the Conservative Party Conference last month, the new National Design Guide was released. It builds on the ‘Building Better Building Beautiful’ commission established last year. The aims of the guide – and the commission in general – is to promote beautiful and enduring buildings. In practice, the document largely reiterates other established government design guides, without adding much that is groundbreaking. 

However, the focus on the concept of beauty, raises interesting questions. There is a strong notion of stopping ‘ugly buildings’ from getting built. But what is an ‘ugly building’? With something as subjective as design, it is debatable whether or not there can be something so simple as a right or wrong decision on whether or not something is ugly or beautiful. Previous housing minister Kit Malthouse described the commission as a defence against uninspiring and low-quality developer-led buildings. The kind of copy and paste structures that developers place indiscriminately across the country. The kind of housing that Malvina Reynolds sang about in her 1962 song Little Boxes: ‘They’re all made out of ticky tacky / And they all look just the same.’ Obviously, it is good to encourage councils to push for good innovative design, what Malthouse described as ‘the different, the interesting, the unusual, the eccentric, the familiar, the personal.’ But what the commission has not yet done, and I believe will struggle to honestly do, is define what actually physically constitutes these criteria, beyond generic terms.  

This same commission has suggested that councils should not only deny planning permission to bad designs, but go a step further and publicise these ‘ugly’ designs and name and shame the architects responsible. I’m sure there is an element of schadenfreude about this proposal which appeals to the architecture community; an opportunity to highlight the lazy design of your peers, and publically no less. How delicious. But practically, this could be problematic on many levels. The pressure of scrutiny would most likely stifle creativity and experimentation. Would anyone really want to put forward work that – if disliked by the local council – would end up being on a public shame list? The other key issue here is again the idea of subjectivity. What qualifies a local councillor to decide what everyone can and will find ugly. Aiming to build better homes is a good goal to have. But we shouldn’t just be distracted by sweeping ideas of beauty and ugliness. There are so many other qualities desirable in good housing  – longevity, comfort, sustainability, and a sense of place to name a few. The beginning of October usually sees the awarding of two very different architectural awards. The Stirling Prize is probably the most prestigious prize to be had in the UK. The RIBA outlines some of its criteria – ‘design vision; innovation and originality; capacity to stimulate, engage and delight occupants and visitors; accessibility and sustainability; how fit the building is for its purpose; the level of client satisfaction.’ This year’s winner is Goldsmith Street by Mikhail Riches with Cathy Hawley. The project comprises just under 100 council houses for Norwich City Council. Judge Julia Barfield said ‘These desirable, spacious, low-energy properties should be the norm for all council housing.’ Housing minister Robert Jenrick has been quick to highlight this scheme and its relevance to the commissions goals – ‘I want to see the delivery of better-designed homes, especially social housing like the gold standard set in Norwich, and expect more developers to follow the example set by the project’s architects.’ The second award of the season is BD’s Carbuncle Cup. This is supposed to be a light-hearted award, calling out ‘crimes against architecture’. The name comes from a comment made by Prince Charles describing a proposed extension to the National Gallery as ‘a monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend’. The irony here, that Prince Charles was perhaps not aware of, is that when first designed and built the original building or ‘elegant friend’ was not overwhelmingly popular. It was described as a ‘nasty little pokey hole’ as well as ‘mean and utilitarian’. Here we have, then, an example of just how much tastes – and the very concept of beauty – can change. One generation’s carbuncle might be another generation’s treasure. RH