Architecture
Limeys unite!
Alan Powers on a new generation of lime enthusiasts
Before architecture there was building, and one nourishes the other. One of the fundamental ideas of modern architecture was that new scientific developments applied to building not only permitted change but demanded to be used. The idea is contentious at the least, for to a large extent modern architecture has been the creation of advertising and marketing. Asbestos, a cheap method of insulation, not only destroyed the health of its workers but now costs millions of pounds to remove from buildings. Pre-industrial buildings do not suffer from 'sick building syndrome'.
It is not surprising, therefore, that enthu- siasts for traditional techniques of building become evangelical about them. Nothing excites more feeling among initiates than lime, but if you asked your local builder to use it instead 'of cement, he would probably look blankly at you. Lime is produced by burning limestone to make quicklime, then slaking it with water to produce lime putty. This white material, resembling cheese after it has sat for 12 months or more, can be used for mortar and roughcast, and applied in thin coats as limewash.
Lime is one of those materials, like indi- go dye, around which the history of civilisa- tion can be constructed. This was once done for me by the late Professor Robert Baker, who ranged from its advantages for the drainage of country churches to a vision of mediaeval Europe white with the shining, polished lime plaster applied to the exterior and interior of every church, resembling the marbles of Italy. Baker was one of the pioneers of lime in the conserva- tion of statuary, using poultices of lime to pull out pollution and repairing faults in a material which is itself a reconstituted but more versatile form of stone. The buildings of the Romans were demolished so that their lime could be ground for re-use, and the stone of the monasteries often ended in the lime kiln.
The Edwardian artist J.D. Batten, who once took a bucket of 12-year-old lime for a ride on the District Line to test its responsiveness to vibration, believed that the rot had set in with the Hawk Boys strike at Broad Street Station in the 1860s, when plasterers stopped 'knocking up' lime because they dispensed with the juvenile labour formerly employed for the purpose. They watered their lime instead of agitat- ing it until it went liquid of its own accord, and their resulting mix was inevitably weak- er. Batten was one of a group of fresco enthusiasts, who believed that this tech- nique of painting (which depends on the fusion of pigment with fresh lime plaster), would be the salvation of art. Incidental to their objectives was the abatement of the smoke nuisance, since sulphur in the air destroys lime, Michael Wingate, an archi- tect and present-day advocate of lime, believes that its general use in country building only ceased with the last war, when the glow from lime kilns was consid- ered a black-out risk.
Michael Wingate has promoted lime in Britain and successfully extended it beyond the small number of builders specialising in historic repair work. Building a new church recently in Wakefield, he asked the con- tractors to use hair and lime plaster for the inside. 'They thought we were round the bend,' he says, but after supplies had been scoured from around the country (the preparation of lime takes time) the plaster- ers thoroughly enjoyed using it.
The lime crusade has been carried by Wingate to Zanzibar, where he has worked The recreated 'Exedra' at the Rococo Gardens, Painswick, Glos, painted with limewashes (Photograph by St Blaise Ltd) for Intermediate Technology on construct- ing a lime-kiln for use in repair of the his- toric stone town. The interest spread along the east African coast. Similar efforts have been undertaken in India and other parts of Africa, but lime still hardly begins to threaten the vast international domination of the cement industry. In Britain, the majority of lime production is controlled by a few firms, but a traditional small lime- burning industry has miraculously survived at Shillingstone in Dorset.
Supply has been one of the problems in spreading the use of lime. The Suffolk architect Shawn Kholucy tried for years to persuade the National Trust to sell it from their shops, since they are one of the largest users of lime in the country, but without success. Limewash is an attractive alternative to emulsion paint (as now sold by the National Trust). It protects the sur- faces it covers by allowing moisture in and out. Applied to timber, it is an insecticide. Michael Wingate claims that limewash has better acoustic and thermal qualities, apart from its ability to project colour from a build-up of transparent layers.
Lime roughcast or rendering on the exte- rior of a building can be even more spec- tacular, making buildings almost edibly delicious. It has been forgotten how many buildings were once roughcast but have now been stripped down to brick or stone which was never intended to be seen. In Cirencester, the stonemason-extraordinary Rory Young has begun to reverse decades of roughcast removal carried out in the name of authenticity and good taste.
What hopes do the limeys have of rein- troducing lime into the mainstream of building? Visionary in some respects, they are realistic in limiting their aims initially to historic buildings, but if sufficient num- bers of builders feel confident with the material, its use is likely to spread. Michael Wingate finds that the Swedes are about 20 years ahead of us in using lime for historic buildings, and have overcome the harsh- ness of their climate. Even in England, a frost will sometimes inexplicably loosen new lime mortar or roughcast, showing how much traditional knowledge has been lost. There is a Eurolime organisation, but cultural incompatibility has caused the for- mation of a British-based splinter group, the Building Limes Forum, which meets this weekend in Buxton, the centre of British lime production.
Even lime reflects the politics of the moment, but the vision of Robert Baker's wandering scholar-masons seems almost on the point of achievement in modern form. A church architect in Essex says, 'You can tell what sort of builder you are dealing with as soon as you mention lime'. The his- tory of the world according to lime may still be written.
The Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, 37 Spital Square, London El can provide leaflets on the supply and use of lime.
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