Membership of Type allows unlimited access to our online library. Join to support new research and writing on the design of the built environment.
You can read more about membership here.
Already a member? Login to your account to avail of unlimited downloads.
Membership of Type allows unlimited access to our online library.
Join to support new research and writing on the design of the built environment.
You can read more about membership here.
Individual Membership Fees
Individual membership is available on a monthly or annual basis.
The fee is €10/month or €99/year.
Throughout Europe, contemporary best practice approaches to urban development strive to balance complex and urgent social demands with heightened requirements for climate mitigation and ecological repair. Initiatives such as the European Urban Initiative exist to lead in the definition, funding, and guidance of such practices [1]. Although evidenced in emerging policies and strategies at both EU and national levels, processes of urban development largely preclude the meaningful participation of urban inhabitants and lead to arduous disputes during regeneration projects. While socially engaged architectural practice is evident in Ireland [2], formal structures for community participation in built environment regeneration projects remain inadequate [3].
TEST SITE is a socially engaged architecture project responding to a derelict site earmarked for urban regeneration on Kyrl’s Quay, Cork city centre [4]. Located on the central island of Cork city centre, the Kyrl’s Quay site is home to a wealth of natural and industrial heritage, neither of which are protected under current development standards. Combining art, architecture, and ecology, the TEST SITE project acts as a temporary agora to encourage public collaboration with the city, in particular this vacant site. Co-created with artist Aoife Desmond, the project encompasses a practice that is person-centred and co-designed. The project is dedicated to the examination, and promotion, of diverse and sustained social engagement within the built environment. It functions as a curated public meeting space facilitating discussions, workshops, and social activities that bring people together centred around themes such as heritage, identity, and the concept of belonging to a specific space. TEST SITE recognises the value of situated knowledge in the delivery of equitable urban development; the value of both expert-by-experience and expert-by-specialism knowledge.
Expert-by-specialism knowledge is primarily leveraged in making decisions concerning long-term urban development strategies in the built environment. Decisions are predominantly informed by quantitative data sets such as that gathered by sensors and monitors. Expert-by-experience knowledge, also referred to as lay or community knowledge [5], can exhibit heterogeneity when acquired through collective explorations such as living labs. Within urban neighbourhoods, living labs are projects that occur amid communities, incorporating collaborative and participatory processes. These processes involve a spectrum of diverse and underrepresented spatial experiences, providing essential insights for achieving urban development that is both equitable and resilient.
In her novel Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer, a Potawatomi botanist, describes the shifting responses and actions of students to scientific instruments during academic botanical field trips – how they recurrently shy away from their own senses and become heavily reliant on the readings of scientific instruments [6]. Through a series of grounding and landing activities, Kimmerer guides students to return focus to understanding and trusting their lived sense of place and not just the measurements and readings of the scientific equipment employed.
The intention behind activities undertaken at TEST SITE could be considered as an urban equivalent to Kimmerer’s field trip grounding activities, moving from a reliance on policy and quantitative data alone towards knowledge building that includes engagement with complex and varied hands-on comprehension of the urban built environment. The project works from the position that the human experience of urban inhabitants is a valid and crucial source of data in need of robust and formal consideration in relation to the long-term strategies for sustainable and equitable urban development.
Lived experiences are fleeting and ephemeral. In order to be drawn upon in a formal capacity, it is crucial to capture and translate the lived experience of the protagonist of the built environment into spatial knowledge [7]. TEST SITE is undertaken from the informed position that a socially engaged practice of architecture can capture ephemeral and complex socio-spatial qualities of the built environment, as experienced by urban dwellers. With this comes the need to develop processes that capture the situated learnings that emerge through hands-on experience of a place.
One such means is to co-produce socio-spatial representations [8]. Tangible and lasting lessons emerge from temporary spatial activations once a structured process of reflection and representation is instigated to complement ongoing activations.
Through TEST SITE we continue to test methods that encompass the contributions of wide and varied voices; be they regular contributors, collaborators or once-off visitors from extended civil society. Ultimately intending to expand the complex web of knowledge that can shape long term strategies and approaches to sustainably developing our local built environment.
Returning to and concluding with the writings of Robin Wall Kimmerer, she describes the importance that the Potawatomi elders place on ceremonies as a means of “remembering to remember” [9]. Perhaps temporary activations of vacant, derelict, and public land can act as a form of ceremony and learning in the built environment; a means of remembering to remember and value the lived experiences of a city's residents when formulating plans and strategies for its future.
Present Tense is supported by the Arts Council through the Arts Grant Funding Award 2024.
1. European Commission, ‘Description of the Action: the European Urban Initiative (EUI)’, [website], 2022, https://www.urban-initiative.eu/sites/default/files/2022-08/Description%20of%20the%20EUI.pdf, (accessed 23 February 2024).
2. N. Deeley, Prospects Paper #2: People Powered Places, [website], 2021, https://issuu.com/metropolitanworkshop/docs/mw_prospects_publication_02_210422, (accessed 23 February 2024).
3. J. Bissett, Regeneration: Public Good or Private Profit?, Dublin, Tasc/New Island, 2009.
4. For further information about the project visit www.testsitekyrlsquay.ie.
5. D. Petrescu et al., ‘Sharing and Space-Commoning Knowledge Through Urban Living Labs Across Different European Cities’, Urban Planning, vol. 7, no. 3, 2022, (accessed 23 February 2024).
6. R. Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants, London, Penguin Books, 2020, p. 224.
7. C. Courage, Arts in Practice, Routledge, 2017.
8. L. Natarajan, ‘Socio-spatial Learning: A Case Study of Community Knowledge in Participatory Spatial Planning’, Progress in Planning, vol. 111, 2017, (accessed 23 February 2024).
9. R. Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants, London, Penguin Books, 2020, p. 5.
Yet in Ireland today, the built environment is too often defined by crisis; housing shortages, vulture funds, stalled planning, delayed public infrastructure, and sprawling suburbs with inadequate public transport. Across these challenges, one pattern is consistent - people’s needs have been systematically sidelined in favour of economics. This raises two critical questions; how did people become invisible in planning, and how has this eroded public trust?
To contextualise this argument through a recent controversy, the proposed redevelopment of Sheriff Street has been presented as a scheme designed to ‘regenerate the area’ and tackle underdevelopment. Yet, Rainbow Park, a green space in the heart of Sheriff Street, remains untouched despite long-standing calls from residents to transform it into a vibrant hub. According to Mark Fay, chairperson of the North Wall Community Association, residents were also blindsided by the announcement, revealing how little meaningful consultation took place.
Urban theorist David Harvey has argued that regeneration often masks gentrification, where the well-being of current residents is sacrificed to increase property values. The office blocks and luxury apartments planned for Sheriff Street are designed for people largely ‘unindigenous’ to the neighbourhood, while those already living there risk cultural erasure. This is part of a larger pattern of gentrification dressed as renewal, sanitising inequality rather than addressing it.
So how might architectural practice move away from this cycle and begin to approach the built environment in a genuinely democratic way?
Public consultation has been offered as a solution, but in practice often amounts to little more than a box-ticking exercise. Public forums tend to come late in the design process, when decisions have already been made, leaving residents feeling duped. In order to truly facilitate democratic design, communities must be involved from the very beginning, when needs and opportunities are first identified. This must then be followed by genuine co-authorship, where residents have a real stake in shaping outcomes. And even this is not enough if architects and planners fail to develop empathy for the people behind the feedback.
This is where the act of ‘writing people back into design’ becomes important. ‘Fictional Narrative Writing’ is a methodology that I have developed which merges writing, storytelling, and narrative empathy, helping designers to integrate people and identities into their work. This involves creating characters and scenarios drawn from what is learned in the early stages of design development, and then designing through their eyes. Imagine Susan, aged forty-six, recovering from a hip replacement, needing to move comfortably through a building or public space. Or Steven, aged sixteen, with little money and nowhere safe to gather with friends. How might a street, square, or public building serve both of them? By imaging these lived experiences, architects are forced to consider how spaces perform for different people, ensuring that those consulted at the start are not only listened to, but remain present and visible in every stage of design.
By embedding empathy in practice, designers begin to understand diverse people’s needs, desires, and vulnerabilities, while the public sees themselves reflected in the design process. This mutual recognition rebuilds trust, transforming the built environment from a top-down imposition into a shared project of social life.
Above all, this methodology requires us to acknowledge that architecture is never neutral. Every design decision is a social, and therefore political, decision. This is not a plea for grand gestures, or expensive experiments. Often, small interventions can transform how a space is experienced. A family-friendly bathroom that gives independence to children. A sheltered bench that restores dignity to those waiting for the bus. Free, accessible indoor spaces that provide refuge to teenagers who have nowhere else to go. Inclusive facilities that allow people to exist without fear of scrutiny. These are not luxuries. They are the basics of a society that values its citizens.
Ireland is at a crossroads. The choices we make now will determine whether the built environment continues to alienate, or whether it begins to reconnect people, and foster a sense of community. We can persist with Tetris block developments dictated by developer economics, or we can restore architecture’s social purpose. The shift will not come overnight, nor will it come through tokenistic frameworks. It requires a change of mindset, to see people not as passive recipients but as co-authors of the places they inhabit. It requires putting dignity and a sense of belonging on equal terms with cost and efficiency. It required introducing empathy as a design tool.
If we succeed, trust can be rebuilt. Our cities and towns can become places of pride rather than disillusionment, and the phrase ‘built environment’ can return to its true meaning: the collective spaces where people live - and live well.
It is time to write people, community, and democracy back into Ireland’s built environment.
The built environment is defined by Oxford Languages as ‘man-made structures, features, and facilities viewed collectively as an environment in which people live and work’. Looking beyond the sexism, naïve assumptions of inclusivity, and the capitalist emphasis on perpetual labour engrained in this definition, two words stand out: ‘people’ and ‘live’. I highlight these words as a reminder of the purpose of the built environment, and for whom it exists. The built environment should be a proactive space that empowers people to live a comfortable, functional, and democratic life.
Read
There are two ways to look at the collision of one's beliefs having pursued an architectural degree, and starting one's first job in architecture. A collision between one's assumptions and reality may not be the nicest experience, yet it can be truly valuable. Such collision, as long as either of the two doesn't change, is inevitable. Such a collision between an architecture graduate's thoughts, and the reality of working in a practice can have positives and negatives – but such an occasionally uncomfortable thing can be beneficial, and in fact broaden a graduate's skillset.
When the two worlds collide
Architecture is mainly taught through a five-year course. Students optionally, and quite often, take ‘a year out’ between third and fourth year to (most often) work in architectural practice, which is likely to be their first long-term and intense experience with architecture as a career. As long as architecture is taught in the manner it is, the collision between a student's assumptions and beliefs, and their real-world priorities is almost inevitable.
Such a collision creates an opportunity to question their real-world priorities, and might possibly lead to their improvement, or at least understanding of their role in practice. This can make following their principles easy, intentional, and sensible. However, such collision can, in reality, prove an obstacle – when the theory and the practice don't align, the theory can often feel like a waste of time. This should, in turn, be an incentive to challenge the theory or even practice, so that students and graduates would feel more familiar with life after graduation – if familiarity is considered the only ‘right’ way to be prepared.
Collision as a benefit and an opportunity
Collision between one's assumptions, beliefs, and priorities, and with every-day architectural practice is inevitable due to the nature of how architecture is sometimes taught. In college, one goes through years of working on various projects in theory to learn how to think when it comes to creating space. For instance, one is expected to pay attention to how the space feels, how it gets constructed and used, about its environmental impact, and last but not least, what it looks like.
Nonetheless, designing in an architectural studio seems to be rarely led by these criteria, although they are hopefully the ultimate goal. For example, affordability, practicality, and buildability most often seem to be more important than aesthetics, comfort, and innovation.
Aesthetics is invariably resolved by manufacturers producing a tested list of windows and doors, bricks, kitchen cabinets, and roof tiles to choose from, which are generally considered aesthetically pleasing, but most importantly buildable. They are mostly prefabricated and rely on certification, and a builder’s familiarity with them. This in turn ensures that they are the most affordable option, a priority – particularly in housing. An attempt to use bespoke windows, with a particular aesthetic in mind, will prove pointless due to the cost of production, testing, and certification. This naturally leads to a question as to whether one can design and construct a thoughtful building whilst almost entirely using prefabricated products. More pertinently, a graduate may wonder whether one can aspire to design aesthetically pleasing buildings at all – these may begin to feel like the naïve remain of the college experience that fades away with time?
Comfort has been (allegedly) defined by minimum sizes of houses and apartments, along with sizing bedrooms, storage spaces, living spaces, balconies, and terraces through housing guidelines – along with often-used typical details of construction elements such as precast concrete floor slabs, or particularly timber frame panels. In this instance, it feels as if there is no need for another Le Corbusier´s ‘Modulor’ studied in the college environment. Here, one was encouraged to re-think what has been established to understand it, and to aspire to improve upon it. Indeed, the fact that something has long been constructed in a certain manner does not mean it is being built in the right way – so how can one be sure that the prescribed and recommended design is ideal, if one is not encouraged to question it?
Innovative solutions are imprisoned between building regulations and cost requirements that are often non-negotiable. One can either view them as a challenge or as a barrier, and given architecture's role in tackling various societal issues and in making our environment a better place, it feels best to see them as a challenge.
In truth, the collision between a freshly college-influenced mind and the architectural world poses several questions which could lead to an improvement of the real-world rules by which we construct spaces, an improvement rooted in not accepting reality as it is. In other words, I believe perceiving all the limitations as a challenge rather than as a barrier is the best way in which to improve our built environment.
Collision as an incentive
Nonetheless, the collision between architectural theory and architectural practice can also be viewed as a wrinkle that needs to be ironed out of a graduate. Resolving this discrepancy can be performed by changing the means by which architecture is taught, by establishing fewer rules, and by making both theory and practice more intertwined.
Architectural courses should enhance one's creative and problem-solving skills, as well as one´s interest in new solutions and techniques. However, in practice affordability and practicality often prove more important than aesthetics and innovation precisely because they ensure people have a roof over their head, and the safety provided by that essentially offers comfort. It can often feel as if there is no use in pursuing one´s creative skills and innovative thinking, as building regulations and design manuals have already tackled various scenarios. In this reality, architectural courses should perhaps be more reflective of the real work environment, and the philosophy of practice.
This collision could be avoided by changing the way architecture is taught. If theory were more like everyday practice, graduates would be provided with a more realistic view of what a career in architecture will be like. In principle, this would allow a student make a more informed decision as to whether a career in architecture is what they aspire to.
Collision as a way to improve
This collision is a good thing because it creates potential for improvement, and disillusion can encourage one to discover a different way to make use of one's skills. It creates space for questioning, understanding, and possibly improving architectural practice and, in turn, our environment – rather than choosing to resign oneself to an inevitability.
In this article Kristyna Korcakova discusses the preparation education provides architectural graduates, and explores whether this is the most accurate preparation for architecture in practice.
Read
The idea that politicians will manipulate or misrepresent data to paint a favourable picture, as seen at last November’s election when multiple government ministers claimed 40,000 houses would be built in 2024, knowing full well that was nigh-on impossible, is nothing new. Back in the 1960s, new houses were counted when any grants due were paid, and on becoming the new minister with responsibility for housing, Neil Blaney made sure housing grants were paid under his tenure and not the previous incumbents, so he could claim credit for houses started and finished before he was in office. That’s politics, and often housing, one of the most political of policy areas.
Sixty-odd years later, data is still being misused and abused. In some ways, it is more worrying now as data increasingly informs policy (a good thing), but the data is often not independent, nor rigorous in its production (not so good).
When tackling the issue of housing completions, it is important to note that since the 1970s we now count a new house when it is connected to the electricity grid. The issue here is that housing is most often connected to the electricity grid long before it is finished, and so it could be up to a year before the ‘connected’ house is ready to occupy. Neither does being connected to the electricity grid mean it is legal to occupy – that status is only conferred on receipt of a Certificate of Compliance on Completion (a ‘Completion Cert’).
So, housing completion numbers are nine to twelve months ahead of themselves. 2024’s 30,300 ‘completions’ will come on stream for occupation all through 2025, and maybe even into 2026. Our completions aren’t really complete.
Indeed, we are lucky we are counting houses properly at all. Until 2017, the Department of Housing had been overcounting the number of new houses being completed in the country by up to 58%. New electricity connections had been including every “warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse” – to misquote Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive – as well as actual houses. Defending his overzealous officials, the Minster at the time said: “All I can do is use the same methodology that we’ve always used” [1], which was untrue.
Under his successor, Eoghan Murphy, it was discovered that the officials knew all along the numbers were overestimated when he asked them to calculate more accurate statistics – “Yes, but the right figure will show fewer new houses, Minister.”
There are question marks hanging over a lot of other data too. Are we really short 484,000 new houses in Ireland, or some 22% of the current housing stock, as per a recent report from Hooke and MacDonald, the estate agents whose main business is selling apartments? Why do we count density per hectare in terms of the number of housing units (e.g. eighty per hectare) instead of number of bedspaces, which is a much better metric as it focuses on the number of people being accommodated. The answer, of course, is that more units generate more rental income, and increasing bedspace density would mean having to build larger apartments, thus reducing the income-generation potential of developments.
Will more supply bring down house prices? No, it never has, as supply is only a small part of house price inflation – interest rates and wages are much bigger drivers. Should it really cost €590,000 to build a two-bedroom apartment? Councils do it for an average of €345,000.
Do we really need €20 billion a year of international investment in the Irish housing system, most of which will be used to build apartments solely for rent? This is a typology few want for a plethora of reasons (poor construction and challenging owners management issues, for example), and a tenure about which the Department of Housing’s own research contradictorily found 86% of non-home owners aged 25-49 want to be home-owners? Homeless numbers bizarrely only count those with some form of a roof over their heads, and also exclude 3,500 homeless international protection applicants.
According to the Central Statistics Office, Ireland had 163,433 vacant houses at the last census in 2022. According to GeoDirectory, a commercial database company set up by An Post and Tailte Éireann, there are less than half that number – at just over 82,000 empty houses. That is quite the difference, and yet attempts to understand this difference by looking at GeoDirectory’s methodology (the CSO’s is publicly available) are difficult as they don’t release it. Yet it is the GeoDirectory number that ministers cite when they want to underplay their lack of progress in tackling vacant housing for many years now.
This is all fun and games for housing data nerds, but it is also highly risky. A lot of panic-inducing common narratives are provably untrue (e.g. RPZs don’t work), yet still recited ad nauseum by wilfully or otherwise naive politicians and other commentators, and are sometimes found influencing housing policy. Claims that tens of thousands of housing units were held up by judicial review led to legally dubious sections in the new Planning and Development Act. Claims that it is simply not viable (whatever that means) to build apartments has led to subsidies of up to nearly €250,000 per apartment [2]. Claims that we are short an untold number of apartments will lead to further wooing of international money; and so on. All of this comes at a cost, not always financial.
Policy then becomes policy for those with political access, investors, and other overseas landlords, not policy for decent housing. Ireland’s official housing document, ‘Housing for All’, becomes ‘Housing for the Top One Per Cent’, as like in all good housing crises, the political and lobbyists answer to a housing crisis is yet more luxury housing.
In the absence of a meaningful response from the state, the private sector has the state over a barrel. Housing policy will never succeed when its foundations are wobbly.
In the the context of the recent controversy around housing completion figures, Dr Lorcan Sirr explores the subjectivity of housing statistics, and the impact these figures have on housing policy.
Read
Website by Good as Gold.