For four millennia the plumb projects for architects have been monumental public buildings. Think pyramids, Greek temples, Gothic cathedrals. As suggested by these examples, religion has had a lot to do with monumental scale, but in recent decades, we have more commonly celebrated architectural monuments to finance and the arts.
In classical architecture, the crepidoma was typically composed of three massive stepped levels placed over a foundation of local stone onto which columns supporting the entire of the building were erected. These massive steps set the stage for placing public buildings (literally) on a pedestal throughout history – a trend that continued unabated until recent years when societal concerns with respect to inclusion began to emerge. Our most celebrated buildings often shared a common characteristic: persons with mobility challenges were effectively denied access and use.
Architects have to shoulder much of the blame here. Manipulating scale and proportion to something beyond human is the most common trick in the designer’s book to realize built form that awes the masses. In doing so, we have created barriers for fourteen percent of our (Canadian) population.
This is no longer acceptable. Barriers in new builds that prevent or inhibit access and/or use by any segment of society should be eliminated on the drawing table. Problem is, those of us who are unchallenged in our mobility often have difficulty seeing beyond the regulatory regime that is measured in millimetres and not in concepts. There’s a lot of gray area in some new architectural trends. For example, in an effort to combat our growing sedentary lifestyle, architects have embraced the stair as something to be celebrated! Most new campus buildings have elevated the stair beyond vertical circulation. It is now a lounge, a gathering space, an impromptu lecture theatre.
It is a commendable idea – subdue the elevator; celebrate the stair. Make us want to use it for health and interaction. But in the course of this, architects need to be absolutely confident that they have not created something exclusionary. They must exercise their powers of empathy and visualization.
Retrofit for total accessibility is a whole different quintal of fish. It can be expensive, and in some buildings, impossible without wholesale demolition which may impair the function of the building (which would be pointless for everyone) or its appeal as an architectural construct.
The Arts and Culture Centre in St. John’s is an excellent example. Raymond Affleck’s design includes sixteen different levels over three stories – his intention – to create a flow of monumental spaces commensurate with the building’s civic importance. But for thirty years we have been forced to pick away at the barriers that Affleck unintentionally created. The greatest success in this journey came recently when a major renovation gave wheelchair access to the central part of the house (instead of being relegated to the back row) and access directly onto the stage. Both were done in a discrete manner that does not draw attention, and permits use by 100% of the population. This is what I like to refer to as the “democratization of accessibility”.
Despite the success of “house” access at the A&CC, much work remains throughout the building; suitable access to the library and Barrett Theatre for example. And these can and should be made with respect to Ray Affleck’s original contextual considerations.
The 1981 Accessibility Regulations were like a tsunami that washed over architects. It may have represented the greatest game changer in building design since the introduction of the National Building Code. I would be the first to admit that it took me a long time to get my head around it, and even more time to embrace it given the pushback from clients faced with increased construction cost. It took decades for architects to become fully engaged.
There are issues however – many of which are absurd, promulgated by bureaucrats and technicians who reject toilet locations for being a millimetre too close to a wall. Try to imagine the plumber’s job! He or she has to locate a toilet outlet in the dirt before the slab is poured or the walls are erected. What are the chances that they will get that location 100% correct in every instance? A millimetre or two will not, in most cases, pose a barrier. It is far more likely that a change in janitorial supplies will, as the vendor replaces all the paper towel and soap dispensers with near impossible access long after the inspectors are gone.
In October of 2016, Service NL announced that it would roll out new Accessibility Regulations that will deal with a number of “trees”: a gentler slope for ramps, more accessible parking spaces, wider washroom stalls, etc. This is progressive. But will the new regulations deal in concepts? (The “forest”.) Will they, for instance, address ideals in accessibility instead of minimums?
Often in my career owners indicated to me that their building was “exempt under the regulations”. I would explain to them that accessibility, especially in the age of social media, was good for business. A sound financial case was made. The owners generally realized that additional cost for accessible reconstruction would pay dividends as people become more appreciative of universal design concepts.
Architects are at the leading edge of accessible design. They are the only professionals who can democratize accessibility as opposed to simply counting millimetres. Yet, did Service NL see fit to invite their opinion or input in the redrafting of 2018 regulations?
Incredibly, the answer to that question is no.