The Invisble suburb.
Paper presented at the conference Negotiating (in)visibilities at ETH Zürich, 30.11.2012.
Claus Bech-Danielsen
Introduction
My paper is about holiday homes in Denmark – so, I will take you a tour to the Danish summer, to
the beaches around Denmark. Lean back – relaxe and dream about summer and dream about
holliday – actually Danish Summerhouses are nothing but a dream.
However, let me start somewhere else. Let me start by looking at developments in early 20th
century domestic architecture. Naturally, the home was the primary focus for the architects of
modernism because the home was considered the space in which modern life was to develop and
unfold. The leading architects of modernism therefore developed a number of homes that have
become architectural landmarks of the time. The best of these homes have the status of icons,
representing contemporary domestic architecture. These icons feature in almost all literature
about domestic architecture in the first half of the 20th century.
1920s: Villa Savoye are of corse are among the most important of these icons - designed by Le
Corbusier in 1928. Villa Savoye is probably the most reproduced building in books about the
domestic architecture of the 1920s. With its white walls and the almost ritual ascent through the
house, from the small washbasin at the entrance to the sunny terrace on the roof, the house
symbolises the physical and mental cleansing process that was to take place in the modernist
home.
1930s: Falling Water, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in 1935, is probably the most pictured house
in literature about housing architecture from the 1930s - known for the close interplay between
the building and surrounding nature, which constitutes an important part the building's qualities.
The building has often been described as a counter-image of the domestic architecture of
European modernism. Falling Water was also called: The Kaufmann's Residence
1940s: Glass house designed by Philip Johnson and built in the late 1940s. This house is often
described as one of the first examples of the minimalistic home - and the experimental use of the
transparency of the glass and the close interplay between the building's interior and exterior have
had an enormous influence on contemporary trends in domestic architecture. Glass house was
built for Philip Johnson himself and is often described as "Philip Johnson's own home".
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1950s: Farnsworth House, designed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and built in 1951. The house
were under way for many years and, in reality, the designs inspired Johnson's Glass House, which
was built two years earlier. Today, the building serves as a place for visitors and its official website
presents the house as "one of the most famous examples of modernist domestic architecture".
There can be little debate that these four houses are among the most important works in the
development of 20th century domestic architecture. However, interestingly, none of the four
houses are actual homes. They were all designed as second homes. Villa Savoye served as a
country house for the wealthy Savoye family who had their primary residence in central Paris.
Falling Water served as a weekend retreat for the successful business man, Edgar Kaufmann, who
had his primary home in Pittsburg. Although Glass House was said to be "Philip Johnson's own
home", it was in fact his second home. Finally, Farnsworth House was designed as a weekend
retreat for Edith Farnsworth, who lived 90km away in Chicago.
This begs two obvious questions. Firstly, why did modernist domestic architecture seem to
develop best and in its purest form, in the second home? I have addressed this question in other
articles, but I will also address it briefly in this paper. Secondly, why is the fact that these houses
were built as second homes overlooked or neglected repeatedly in the literature? In the following
I will try to find some answers to these questions – and I will start by focusing on the relationship
between the principal home and the second home.
Development of Danish holiday home areas
First, let's define some important concepts and terms – like ‘second home’. Second homes are
properties which are owned or rented for the purpose of temporary residence, for people who
have their everyday residence elsewhere. Whereas in other Scandinavian countries second homes
are often located far from the coast and were originally built for other purposes (for instance in
Sweden a typical second home originally served as home to the rural population), in Denmark
second homes are typically built near the sea and located in areas specially designated for secondhomes. In Denmark we call them summerhouses - some decades ago, they were only used during
summer as they were not warm enough during winter, but since the 1960’s the standard on
isolation improved, and they are now used in holiday-seasons and in weekends. Thus, the
summerhouse areas are different from the common residential areas in that they are subject to a
special cyclic rhythm - they change character during the week and during the year.
Architecturally, Danish summerhouses also stand out from permanent homes in a number of
aspects. For example, they are generally smaller than permanent homes – in average they are half
the size - and they are very often built of wood. The architectural tradition and the cultural
conventions linked to Danish summerhouses were shaped by a historical development that I have
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described in my full length paper. Here I will only present a brief summary – and I will jump
directly to the 20th century:
In 20th century planners of the modern city turned their eyes to the horizon and created
residential areas in the periphery of the city, which offered light and air and green landscapes.
Most of the homes in the suburbs in Denmark were built as single-family houses, a trend that was
boosted in the 1960s and the 1970s when the general level of wealth increased in Denmark.
During these two decades, 430,000 single-family houses were built in Danish suburbs.
The majority of Danish summerhouses were built during the very same period; boosted also by the
general increase in wealth that allowed the Danish middle class to realise their dreams of a second
home. Furthermore, increased motorism helped to realise this dream, as both the Danish
summerhouse areas and the detached houses of the suburbs were reliant on the car.
So – while postwar urban development took place on the city's perifery in the suburbs (building
on ideals about fresh air, light, health and green landscapes), the summerhouse areas were
developed even further away from the city centre, but focussing on the very same qualities.
Thus, there were two coexisting movements away from the city and into the surrounding
landscape; a movement into the suburbs and a movement into the summerhouse areas - both
having the ‘noisy, busy and unhealthy’ city as counter-image.
Now - one might mistakenly think that one part of the city population moved into the green
suburbs, while another part remained in the city and instead bought a summerhouse that could
provide them with recreational opportunities in the weekends. However, this is not the case – this
is what happened: One of the paradoxes of the summerhouses is the fact that the owners of
single-family houses in the suburbs are strongly over-represented among Danish summerhouse
owners – three out of four summer-house owners in Denmark have a single-family houses as
primary home. This becomes no less of a paradox when looking at the way many Danish
summerhouses and summerhouse-areas are designed. Often they look like little copies of the
typical Danish suburban areas with single-family houses.
Since it’s largely the same people who own houses in both areas, one might wonder why these
people want to have two houses that are so much alike?
However, the expansion of Danish summerhouse areas has been extensive - there are
approximately 220,000 summerhouses in Denmark today. It is therefore surprising that this part of
the Danish building stock has received so little attention.
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For instance - the subject is only modestly described in existing literature
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Another example: Local municipalities interest in the summerhouse areas are very limited.
Even the municipalities with the greatest number of summerhouses have no policy for
these areas
Also on state-level, summerhouses are partly overlooked: For instance, considerable
elements of the Danish building regulation do not apply to summerhouses.
And Danish Statistics – have very little data on summerhouses…
…just to give som example of how the summerhouses are very often over-looked. And the
summerhouse owners are not necessarily unhappy about this. They like to see the summerhouse
as a "hidden place" – a "secret cottage". Out of sight seems to be good, when you live in a
summerhouse. This was expressed, when I conducted a number of qualitative interviews with
summerhouse owners. The interviews focused on qualities in the summerhouse - qualities
experienced by the owners. I have described these interviews in my full length paper – here I
present some conclussions:
"Actually, there is not much else one can do than sit down and read a book," a woman says, and
according to a a man the main attraction of his summerhouse area is "the peace and quiet; the
fact that nothing happens". Thus, it seems as the most important quality of the summerhouse is
about absence: the absence of noise; space; entertainment; domestic appliances; phones; street
lightning; an Internet connection; computer games; watches and appointments; paid work; and
the absence of the habits and conventions of everyday life.
The life lived in the summerhouse is a second life, different from the one lived at home. Several of
the interviewees thus mentioned life in the permanent home and life lived in the summerhouse as
two different lives – two parallel lives almost. One woman describes how the move back and forth
between the permanent house and the summerhouse can feel quite intense, because she feels
that she is living two very different lives in the two houses. Another woman explains that life
continues where she left it two weeks ago when she arrives the summerhouse and the bags have
been unpacked. Finally, one woman, who has 45km between her permanent house and her
summerhouse, says it’s fantastic to have access to two such different lives within such a short
distance.
So - we are not just talking about second homes; we are talking about second lives. During the
drive to the summerhouse, the summerhouse residents make a mental switch, they go from one
condition to another, and while staying in the summerhouse, they establish a time-pocket in which
they live their second life. They leave the duties of their everyday lives behind in their permanent
home and live out their dream of a life - close to the family and close to nature.
In this connection it is interesting to observe that studies of the housing preferences of Danes
conclude that there is a huge difference between their dream-home and their actual choice of
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house. Many Danes, who live in the single-family houses of the suburb, dream of having a small
country house with land and room for livestock and hobby activities. When they buy a house,
however, reality plays in and they choose a house that is close to supermarkets, schools and
daycare, children's playmates, public transport, and so on. They step out of the dream and are
caught up by the realities of the everyday life.
From this perspective, the suburban areas of single-family houses and the summerhouse areas
cannot only be considered as the suburbs of worklife and leisure life, respectively. Rather, the
summerhouse areas are the suburbs of dreams, whereas the suburbs of single-family houses
negotiate a compromise with the realities of everyday life.
The residents of the summerhouse live out their dream there, at a distance from the disturbances
of everyday life. This distance between the two houses is described as important by the owners.
Several of the interviewees thus explain that it would be downright comical if the two houses
were situated in the same area, so that shopping when staying at the summerhouse would have to
be done in the same shops used on a daily basis. It would be very difficult to play out the dreamlife role in surroundings belonging to everyday life. When meeting your neighbour you would
suddenly wake up from your dream and see yourself all stubbly and wearing a jogging suit, an old
sweater and rubber boots - the typical summerhouse attire.
Therefore, summerhouse residents stick desperately to their dream, also when things from
everyday life sneak up on them in the summerhouse area. I experienced this a couple of times
during my interviews, for example, when a summerhouse owner talked about the peace and quiet
of the summerhouse while a plane came into land in the nearby airfield and when a neighbour
started his chain saw. The interviewee oddly managed to ignore these noises, just as when
someone tries to wake you up from a lovely dream and you desperately try to cling on to your
dream state.
In this light, perhaps we can understand why the epoch-making homes of modernism are
summerhouses. In the design of the summerhouse, the modernists could really free themselves
from the conventions of the past and the present. They could get rid of traditional thinking in the
mundane. In the development of the summerhouse they could establish their dream of a tabula
rasa, free from ties to a historical and cultural context. Here they could steer free of the
compromises that constitute everyday life. In the design of the summerhouse the architects of
modernism could develop the dream of a modern and liberated life.
This might also explain why the existence of these houses as ‘summerhouses’ is so often
overlooked - when we are reminded that these houses were meant for temporary retreat, we see
that they do not meet the demands of a complex everyday life. We see that the architect's
establishment of a tabula rasa takes place in a time pocket which parries away reality. We see that
the notion of a free life without commitments is an illusion.
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Probably something similar is at play when Danish summerhouses are overlooked as being a part
of Danish building stock. As described, planners as well as building regulations and construction
statistics pay little attention to summerhouses.
Danish summerhouses live their own secret lives; they are a dream that ends the moment
residents leave and return to their ‘real lives’. Perhaps this is for the best, because if the
summerhouses remained too vivid in our minds, maybe this would reveal that our permanent
home does not live up to our dreams.
So - the summerhouses stay hidden away out there in the landscape. When the residents have left
the house, it is closed down and time in the summerhouse is brought to a standstill. For many of
the interviewees, closing down the summerhouse involves a long series of tasks that are almost
ritual. [FLAG] This is reflected in the design of many summerhouses, and particularly so in the
guest house that the Danish architect Vilhelm Wohlert designed for Niels Bohr's summerhouse in
1958. On the south-façade of the house, large wooden panels serve to cover the patio along the
house. When the house is left behind, the wooden panels are closed in front of the large windows,
making the house look like a closed box. The house lies in the landscape like a child holding its
hands in front of its eyes in the hope that this will make it invisible.
There is much to suggest that Danish summerhouses have succeeded in this.
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