We’re a state of historic preservationists. Vermont has an official state architectural historian. Our Act 250 precludes developments with undue adverse effects on historical sites. UVM teaches historic preservation. And we love to nurture buildings with that classic Vermont look: monitor barns, colonial taverns, Greek revival courthouses.
But more than a few buildings in Vermont from the era of modern architecture are now old enough to qualify for historic preservation. And since we can’t save everything, we have some tough choices to make.
The most difficult example I know of is in Plainfield, on a forlorn corner of the campus of Goddard College. I was there not long ago on a remarkable, 300-mile, two-day tour of Vermont buildings sponsored by an organization called “docomomo.” That’s a compressed version of “documentation and conservation of buildings, sites and neighborhoods of the modern movement.”
We saw everything from the house in Hardwick designed by Yale University’s Peter Eisenman as a physical embodiment of the deconstructivism espoused by French philosopher Jacques Derrida - yes, it’s weird - to the Burlington home of architects Ruth and William Freeman – which they built to help acquaint Vermont with the sleek International Style of design.
But the images that really stick in my mind are those of the Painting Building and the Sculpture Building at Goddard in Plainfield.
They arose in the ‘70s and look as if they were built on the fly by a bunch of students who were making it up as they went along – because, in fact, that’s exactly what happened, under the aegis of architects David Sellers and John Mallery.
Sellers, still around and practicing in Warren, is the acknowledged guru of Vermont’s design-build movement – our state’s distinctive contribution to modern architecture. The idea is that architects should actually build stuff themselves, so they can experiment and learn what really works.
Thus, the crumbling buildings at Goddard don’t bother with rectangular glass windows – they use Plexiglas for triangular, curved, even bowed apertures. Steep and narrow staircases everywhere lead to oddly shaped nooks and perches that must have been conducive to creating great art in their day. You can walk underneath much of the Painting Building – because why should it be entirely perched on a foundation, after all?
Some guy named Tony was on campus, doing something else, when Sellers needed a chimney. I know how to lay bricks, said Tony. Today the Sculpture Building has a leaning tower of brick that resembles a body part I probably shouldn’t attempt to describe on the radio.
This is significant Vermont architectural and cultural history – but I don’t believe it can be effectively captured and preserved. Entropy was the guiding spirit in creating these quintessential Goddard College buildings, and entropy is slowly but surely reclaiming them.
We can freeze the 18th and 19th centuries in time. But I’m afraid that the counterculture of the 1960s and 70s – as experienced so notably in Vermont – defies architectural taxidermy.
