By Christopher Tirri

Since the passage of the National Historic Preservation Act in 1966, historic preservation has endeavored to root itself in the consciousness of citizens around the world as not simply a passing trend but rather a common or engrained practice focused on continuity, memory, and identity (Tyler et al., 2018). At its core, historic preservation seeks to offer an applied approach to history wherein communities can experience the power of history in their everyday lives, instead of relegating it to a static subject suited only for museums or iconic heritage tourism sites. Yet, it remains mired in public misconceptions and dependent upon inconsistent local politics.

Critics of historic preservation often dismiss it and its supporters as being fixated on nostalgia for the past, unable to step out of memories and into the future. As Ken Berstein writes, though, preservationists are not a group of curmudgeons adamantly opposed to change for the sake of being contrary; rather, they recognize the importance of grounding future development in what was unique, beautiful, and significant about the past. Our heritage is thus an invaluable way to revitalize local economies and create better, more sustainable and attractive communities.

Additionally, some homeowners express intense concern that historic preservation will infringe upon their property rights by supposedly preventing them from ever repairing or renovating their homes. Historic preservation laws, however, exhibit no more control over private property than do zoning laws, which have been an accepted (albeit not unproblematic) practice in planning since the early twentieth century. Zoning ordinances, as Berstein rightfully highlights, prevent single-family homes from being replaced by McMansions or Big Box Condos. In a similar vein, historic preservation laws attempt to manage development, not block it entirely. Take the Historic Preservation Commission in the City of Cape May as an illustrative example: it is composed of an advisory board of 11 members that makes decisions and recommendations based on both federal and local design guidelines. While the board members carefully scrutinize applications for exterior renovations to any structures within the historic district, they do so in an effort to protect and enhance its defining characteristics.

In this way, historic preservation does not mean a structure must remain frozen in time. It also does not mean there is only a single way to “do” preservation. Preservation is one of six distinct approaches, where an owner maintains the structure as is, making very minor—if any—changes to it over time (e.g., Drayton Hall in Charleston, South Carolina). It thus stands in stark contrast to renovation, which transforms a structure into a usable space but pays minimal attention to its historic provenance. The two most common approaches, though, are rehabilitation and restoration. Rehabilitation, or adaptive reuse, is the thoughtful reimagining of a historic structure for modern use that pays homage to its historic uses, stylistic flourishes, and cultural impact. The TWA Terminal at the JFK Airport in Queens, New York is arguably one of the most iconic, successful large-scale rehabilitation projects in recent years. Restoration involves deliberately removing conflicting styles from within a single structure to more accurately depict a specific time period through form, color, and materials (e.g., Strawberry Hill in Twickenham, London).

The final two approaches are less common mostly due to how they complicate a structure or material’s connection to its aura, a term popularized by Walter Benjamin to describe a work of art’s connection to authenticity through time and space. Both reconstruction and reconstitution involve designing structures outside authenticity to varying degrees. On the one hand, reconstruction occurs when architects build a new structure out of a non-existing one in the likeness of the vernacular styles of a certain time period (e.g., the Governor’s Palace in Williamsburg, Virginia). While reconstructed buildings may bear a seemingly authentic resemblance to their predecessors, they ultimately remain replicas. On the other hand, reconstitution involves the use of materials from a razed structure as the basis for new construction. Compared to reconstruction, reconstitution thus achieves a slightly stronger connection to the original structure’s aura through its reuse of materials.

However cliché it may sound, all six approaches to historic preservation share a common philosophy from Field of Dreams, which is that simply building or preserving something in the spirit of the past will most assuredly attract tourists, scholars, donors, and potential homeowners. The key is thus to recognize how the history of a place is entirely responsible for what it currently looks like, what it currently offers, and how it currently functions. To disregard that history may very well be what ultimately dooms a once-thriving community.

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