“The dead hand of an architect cannot stay clamped on a building forever. Buildings change and can change back again.” Betty Churcher, when director, National Gallery of Australia.

There is much angst about ‘moral rights’ for architects at present. Several very heated public discussions are underway, but for me the current ‘heat but not light’ founders on a crucial point: architects are not artists and architecture is not art.

Moral rights for architects are contained within the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act of 2000 within the Copyright Act, 1968 (Cth) (the Act). Architects have three rights:

the right of attribution of authorship;
the right to take action against false attribution of authorship; and
the right of integrity of authorship.

The first line of the AIA Acumen Practice Note says the Act protects “the moral rights of artists, including architects”. Right there it fails at the first hurdle.

I have written previously that architecture is primarily ‘space’ and is circumscribed by two starting points that are unique to it: having a purpose and a place. That means it is designed for use and occupation on a particular site for a particular purpose at a particular point in time, which marks it out in contradistinction to art (even a commissioned sculpture).

Or, to put it a different way: Vitruvius defines architecture as ‘utilitas, firmitas, venustas’ (commodity, firmness and delight). The first of those, use or utility or purpose or space is to fulfill a function to a client's brief. It rules out the act of an artist, who is singly chasing ‘venustas’. A building is not a work of art, but rather a work of architecture.

The way buildings change over time is canvased in Stuart Brand's excellent book, ‘How Buildings Learn’, discussed in ToT 80 here and its drawbacks in ToT 105 in relation to Richard Rogers. His main point was that very, very few buildings reached the pinnacle of being an artwork, to be preserved as originally conceived for all time. The vast bulk of buildings will change, from forces from many directions, whether the original architect likes it or not.

To take a case in point: the National Gallery of Australia, NGA. A great, but difficult building and one of our best works of modern architecture, particularly taken in concert with the High Court of Australia. If any building is a work of art, for me this is the one. It is also a major test case on moral rights, much discussed here and there.

In the early 2000’s the NGA sought to change the ‘front door’ (and add additional gallery space). The reason for the desired change was often forgotten: in the original design the entry was approached from a bridge that formed part of a pedestrian network designed by Roger Johnson at the NCDC. However, that masterplan had failed even before the building opened. The road pattern was reversed so that the ramp that came up from the approach road was now going in the wrong direction.

The original architect, Colin Madigan, had always wanted the original scheme reinstated, and when changes were mooted, he felt he was not consulted in regard to his moral rights, and the new architects, Tonkin Zulaikha Greer, were forced out, or so it seemed, as the actual history is still mired in controversy. Suffice it to say that the issue was boiling hot.

I had been invited at that time to give a talk on my work at the NGA. I opened my address by suggesting that Blue Poles was now ‘underwhelming’ and could do with a 50% extension, which I would offer to paint. To some tittering I pressed on, trying to make the point that what was unthinkable for art could, in good conscience, be done to architecture.

Churcher was determined to change the building – she even changed the name from the Australian National Gallery (a much more sensible description) to the NGA, not to be confused with the NGV. She succeeded in making additions, sadly something akin to a front door to a shopping centre.

If one of greatest works of architecture in Australia can be downgraded by its owners, who nevertheless rightfully felt that changes were needed, then we need to reassess how we think of architecture as precious, unchangeable art.

The current moral rights issues are cut from the same cloth: owners of significant works of architecture are wanting to make for changes for a myriad of reasons: new owners, different circumstances, changed needs, technology changing over time. Often because the old building doesn’t work for new requirements. And, for whatever reasons, the original architects are no longer thought to be ‘appropriate’.

The moral rights legislation confers upon the new architect the obligation to inform the original architect, and if required to consult for a limited time (three weeks). That’s all, and it should be done with respect, grace and dignity.

Many cases appear to do just that: architects realise their buildings are no longer suitable and are going to be changed. They may concede that their design may not have been perfect when built, no matter how many awards they received. Things change; and so must the buildings.

However, in a few isolated cases that is not the practice. When egos are thought to be on the line, when architects think their work is a piece of immutable art, the conflict starts. It’s not, never was, no matter how many accolades it receives. The debate doesn’t reflect well on the architects themselves, and the profession generally.

Tone Wheeler is principal architect at Environa Studio, Adjunct Professor at UNSW and is President of the Australian Architecture Association. The views expressed here are solely those of the author and are not held or endorsed by A+D, the AAA or UNSW. Tone does not read Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or Linked In. Sanity is preserved by reading and replying only to comments addressed to toneontuesday@gmail.com.

Tone Wheeler

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