Skara Brae
Visiting Skara Brae again has highlighted the importance of latent
messages inherent in form. The one rule at this neolithic village is
'Keep off grass, this is a fragile site.’ Perhaps the numbers
are such that the grass would soon be worn to dirt tracks? One has to 'keep to the path,' away from the grass.
All grass is out of bounds
With much irony, the message in the path itself, its form, denies
this possibility: it fails to accommodate the ordinary practicalities
of the demand. The stone-paved strip begins happily at the entry to
the World Heritage site with an easy, generous width, but it quickly
narrows down to a one-person-wide dimension, meaning that, if one
wanted to move on past someone who has paused to ponder - and why
not? . . . is not this the idea of visiting this exhibit? - one has to either
step onto the grass, or initiate the formation of an intimidating queue. The latter
possibility creates such mayhem with the numbers that arrive to gawk
and gaze, the end result is that someone finally sets the example and
rudely pushes past on the grass without apology, perhaps with some
silent cursing.
The defined paths of Skara Brae
While negotiating this narrow strip, one discovers
an inviting, small flight of stairs dipping down near yet another
living space. Walking down these stone steps takes one to a grassy
patch at the top of the retaining wall built along the beach. The
path leads out ambiguously into this open zone as an array of spaced
stones that progressively reduce in size, with a transformational transition, where stone slowly turns into grass, offering the visitor an apparent invitation to move on. What might the message be other
than to stroll onto the grass? This natural, unselfconscious act
stimulates the firm, uniformed voice supervising the ‘no grass’
rule, and one gets publicly reprimanded for an inadvertent
transgression.
The message inherent in the form of the path needs to confirm the demand to maintain
contact with pavement only, by design. The demand should be subtly
encouraged; one should not be forced or swayed to step on to the luscious green. The
paths need to be wider, and should have natural passing places at popular observation points; inviting stairs to nowhere need to finish at a zone like a
full stop, formalising the termination, and allowing space for happy turning and returning, inviting these activities with nuance and
simple necessity rather than harsh, verbal instructions. An elegant rail
could further confirm the reading of the message and its
implementation: it might even carry its own informative explanatory
content about the village. Leaving matters vague or impossible only
confuses the visitor and causes unwarranted and unnecessary infringements.
Single-person paths and stairs to nowhere
This ancient site is infested with a misunderstanding of a modern
notion that has become its conundrum. It was Louis Sullivan who
popularised the phrase: ‘Form Follows Function,’ but his concept
went further to note that ‘Function Follows Form.’ The demand to
keep off the grass at Skara Brae is an ambition defined in words only, not in the form of
the paths that delineate, determine and designate the body’s location and movements,
its spatial functions and possibilities, in the context of place, purpose, and crowds.
Simply put, the form of the path does not allow the function
demanded; the function required does not fit the form on offer.
Congestion is developed with the narrowing of the walkways and their terminations
What might this silliness and its tensions do to one's observations
of ancient place, one's ordinary experience and understanding? The question
has relevance for this village exhibit, as every action has a natural
reaction. The organic richness of the 3000 year-old stones is mangled
by the carelessness of modern man more than one can ever realise, in
spite of the apparent sensitivity publicly identified and displayed. The problem is more than tourist numbers and their rude arrogance: it is rooted in the fact of
fit - fitness for purpose: the ill-fit.
The transition form stone to turf
The final stone at the end of the mysterious ‘stair to nowhere’
is so small that one would find it difficult to turn around on it without
touching the grass unless one could perform a ballerina's skilful
pirouette. If the restrictive grass rule is to be as rigorously
enforced as management seems to want it to be, then the form of the path is critical.
The path needs more work on it, or the rule has to be relaxed: the
intent of the KEEP TO THE PATH demand and the opportunities provided by the path
are contradictory. The uniformed personnel enforcing the words on the signs need to show greater tolerance if nothing is done to remedy these clashes of resolve. Designers should know better, even if supervisors don’t.
["WHERE POSSIBLE"]
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