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Port Murray, Maidens: from architecture to archaeology
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I was framing my second or third photograph when I heard the first shout. It was unexpected – I hadn’t really registered that it was directed towards me.
“Can I help you!” came the shout again: more discernible this time, and definitely finished more with an accusatory air than an enquiring one.
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Joss Durnan
“Oh, I certainly would have, but I wasn’t able to find out who the owner was.” I had assumed it was someone who now lived very far away, and had abandoned the house.
I looked up.
“I’m the owner.”
It was early morning in April 2016, and unusually warm for the time of year. I was at Maidens on the South Ayrshire coast; the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. There was a man standing on the opposite side of the cove, at the edge of freshly unrolled, bought-in turf, outside an enormous house that struck an incredible balance between extravagant and bland.
“Oh, that’s good! Can I please take photos of your house?”
“Hello!” I yelled. He made some other exclamation, so I started making my way through the long beach grass towards the neat lawn. He fell silent while waiting for me to reach him, and there was no sound save the breeze. “Good morning,” I said. “Can I help you?” he repeated. “I’m here to take photos of the house,” I said, gesturing to Port Murray behind me. “Well,” he said, in a tone that let me know in no uncertain terms that my presence was thoroughly inconveniencing him, “did you not think to ask the owner first?”
“What for?” “Personal use.” [certainly true at the time] There was a pause. Was that a poor choice of words? Did he think I was going to do something obscene with these photos? I tried to clarify: “I’m a fan of the architect.” Another pause. “Fine,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I thought you were one of those people from the Glasgow art college.” I explained that, no, I was an archaeologist. After forcing an introduction between us, the man seemed satisfied that I wasn’t here to cause trouble. He explained that the house was lying empty, and I could go inside if I so wished. “It’s going to be demolished very, very soon,” he said. I played the fool to try and get a little more information, but he wasn’t very forthcoming. I thanked him and made my way back to the house. 5
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Peter Womersley (1923-93) was an English architect who spent most of his working life based in Gattonside in the Scottish Borders. He cited ancient ruins and medieval houses as sources of inspiration (Wickens 2004, 11), and there is clear influence from Modernist architects Ludwig Mies van de Rohe, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Marcel Breuer. All his buildings were designed on a grid system – anything from 3’ to 8’ – which the architect suggested allowed“…the interior and the exterior of the house to ‘read’ together, a quiet rhythm [pervading] the whole house both inside and out, [that] helps to give each house an atmosphere of tranquillity.”(Wickens 2004, 19). Port Murray, built in 1963 at Maidens, South Ayrshire, was designed on a 6’ grid (ibid. 23).
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Most of the doors looked original, but the nineties brass handles were jarringly out of place, as were the floral wallpaper borders running around the waists of some of the walls. The sound of the water grew louder. I opened the door at the end of the corridor. In the corner of the room was a run of kitchen units, and a sink with the tap on full. It made me uncomfortable, seeing this basic identifier of human presence, of modern domestic life, with no obvious presence of an actor. I wondered how long the tap had been running, and turned it off.
I made my way back, passing the still tickingover electricity metre. The hallway opened to a panoramic view of the Clyde, the waves quietly rolling in on the beach below. Beneath my feet were slabs of white Sicilian marble. One had cracked. This had been the dining room, once There was no obvious way in; the whole adorned with Hille furniture and Midwinter landward-facing section of the house had been completely remodelled and extended in the 1990s. tableware – pure sixties Modernism – now, glass was scattered over the floor. The radiators on the I tried what looked like the front door, but it was far wall had bled their black guts out onto the shut fast. Was that a running tap I could hear? cool, ivory-white slabs. I looked up to the central There was this distant gushing noise coming fireplace, the heart of the design. The short from inside, like high pressure water blasting off flight of stairs connecting the split level had a stainless-steel sink. I made a more circuitous disappeared, so I hoisted myself up. The teak route, through a gaping hole that perhaps once floor creaked underfoot. It was like being inside a held a garage door; a workshop; a utility room, great glass ship that had run aground. It was not and back out into a courtyard occupied by a a large building by any means, yet Womersley’s sunken swimming pool. The water was bottle clever and restrained mastery of space made green, chlorine fighting the stagnation. it feel like a cathedral. A garden bench mingled with bits of detritus on the scummy surface. I looked down onto the marble-floored dining The door to the original house was almost thrown space from the study, standing in the same from its hinges. I stepped inside. Glancing to the spot as Sam Lambert when he took his left, I saw the distinctive double-height windows photographs in 1964 (Lambert 1964). this house was known for. To the right ran a long, The essence of that once-beautiful house was still here. The teak and the cypress, narrow hallway, the floor clad in a spongy grey the black and white marble, the Womersleycarpet adorned with dead bluebottles. I could designed fitted furniture (Architectural Review still hear the rushing tap. Was it a tap? Was 1964, 351). This was pure architectural theatre. someone in here with me? I walked along the hallway to investigate.
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Why isn’t this listed, I thought? Granted, re-clad in uPVC, covered in algae, it resembled more a glorified static caravan than the modernist masterpiece that lay underneath. But Port Murray was a Californian Case Study House in Scotland, the most spectacularly sited of Womersley’s houses (Wickens 2004, 23), and his only coastal commission. Under its re-hashed ugly-duckling exterior, this was one of the most important 20th century buildings in Scotland. With seemingly still-connected services, it felt just about habitable. It seemed madness to me that a building in this state was not being cared for and celebrated, and was instead earmarked for demolition. I resolved to do something about it, and emailed Historic Environment Scotland (HES) to enquire about having Port Murray listed. In 2006/7, HES (then Historic Scotland) carried out a Listing review of Womersley’s work in Scotland, and listed several of his buildings as a result. Based on information gathered during that review, Port Murray was not listed on the basis that its later alterations lessened its interest in listing terms. Historic Environment Scotland’s listing review of Womersley’s work is part of a series examining prominent architectural firms, such as Morris & Steedman. The first of these reviews, of the work of Gillespie Kidd & Coia, was carried out in 1997. This process may have been spurred on by the demolition of the firm’s St. Benedict’s Church, Drumchapel, shortly before it was to be Listed: “These are things that instigate why we decide to list [buildings]” (McDowell 2016). Why was this not learned from? South Ayrshire Council granted planning permission to demolish Port Murray and replace it with another dwelling house in May 2015 (Docomomo 2015) – probably without even considering the structure as a heritage asset – because the building was not listed.
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I was told by HES that there had been no discussion of Port Murray in the designations team since the 2006/7 review. Did this mean planning consent had been given with no involvement from HES whatsoever? After gathering supporting documents, and the relatively few photographs taken during my quick visit, I filled out a Listing application form explaining the situation. Two weeks later I was told that as planning permission had been granted for demolition of the house, the listing proposal would not be taken further. In a final act of desperation I wrote a letter to the owner, asking if he would be willing to sell the house. Not knowing the exact address, I drove down to Maidens to hand it to him in person. There was a sign at the foot of the access road to the house: ‘DANGER: DEMOLITION IN PROGRESS.” Was I too late? I had better check it was still there, I thought. I cautiously walked up the drive, aware that my presence might still invoke anger in the owner if spotted. I crested the hill, walked until the gorse cleared, and saw that it was completely gone.
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If HES, the national body responsible for caring for Scotland’s historic environment, can be rendered impotent by the ignorance of a local authority, then something is wrong. And if Listing is rendered impotent by planning constraints, who is in a better position to see that rectified than those working in the heritage directorate? HES’s website states that their role in the planning system is “to provide advice on the potential impacts of development on the historic environment. We advise: planning authorities; developers; others involved in planning” (HES: Our role in planning 2016). In the case of Port Murray, none of that seems to have happened. Was the rug pulled from under HES’s feet? Worryingly, there were times when the designations team didn’t seem remotely engaged with what was happening to Port Murray: “Hopefully there is a good record of it. I’m not exactly sure what the status of it is now, if it’s still there.” (McDowell 2016). It wasn’t.
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*** We were standing outside the Bernat Klein Studio on the first of October, at the end of a tour of Womersley’s buildings in the Borders. An entire coachload of us were given the opportunity to explore some of Womersley’s buildings inside and out. I had been looking forward to it for weeks, yet I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at times. It became apparent that others shared my feelings. ‘It makes you think, you know, “How can you show your face here?”’ says the woman next to me, of the member of staff from HES’s designations team who is on the tour. The Category A-listed Bernat Klein Studio is “arguably the outstanding Scottish building of the 1970s” (Willis 1987) – yet has lain in limbo for years, unused. Stalactites hang from the concrete beams. The current owner has been saying perennially that restoration of the structure is to be restarted ‘soon’ (Southern Reporter 2012). What protection does listing really afford a structure, if it is allowed to fall into this state? How can a representative from the national body responsible for listing come here to talk about the benefits of that process when Port Murray, one of Womersley’s most interesting commissions, Scotland’s own Farnsworth House, was demolished in the year of the Festival of Architecture? In truth, the issue is more complex. I have no doubt that HES work hard to get buildings like this listed and are genuinely committed to their protection. The problems lie in the planning process itself which, under certain circumstances, renders the protection afforded by listing largely meaningless. That is why the Bernat Klein Studio crumbles. That is why a bourgeois bully, through the ignorance of South Ayrshire Council, can get away with levelling a troubled masterpiece like Port Murray. While the responsibility to fix this discord may not strictly lie with HES, they certainly have the loudest voice on the matter. What will they do about it?
Foreshadowing current events, Womersley himself opined in 1959 that ‘Anything dreadful gets past these local councils quite easily. They are a damned nuisance, and doing much more harm than good.’ (Greene 2016). It seems that, almost six decades on, not much has changed. Over the next two years, however, the Scottish planning system will be undergoing changes in accordance with a review carried out in 2016 (Scottish Government 2016). While this will be too late for Port Murray, we can hope that it will ensure other outstanding examples of Scotland’s built heritage are spared of the same unthinking and wasteful fate.
List of References: Architectural Review 1964 “House on the Ayrshire Coast” pp 350-352 London: Architectural Review. Greene, S. 2016 “Peter Womersley: an Architect’s Architect” A Celebration of Peter Womersley Scottish National Gallery: 1 October. Historic Scotland 2007 Architects, Volume 2: Peter Womersley Edinburgh: APS Group Scotland McDowell, D. 2016 “Listing Womersley” A Celebration of Peter Womersley Scottish National Gallery: 1 October. Scottish Government 2016 Review of Planning – Scottish Government Response Edinburgh: Scottish Government. Wickens, M. R. 2004 The Modern House in Bath: Peter Womersley’s Valley Spring Bath: unpublished Masters thesis. Willis, P. 1987 in Morgan, A.L. and Naylor, C. (eds) Contemporary Architects pp 994-995 London: St. James Press.
Online: Docomomo International, 2015 “Demolition Threat: Port Murray House” http://docomomo.com/events?sec=4&id=205 Lambert, S. 1964 “Port Murray House, Maidens near Turnberry, Ayrshire: the dining room” RIBA Collections (Last accessed 26/02/2017): https://www.architecture.com/image-library/RIBApix/imageinformation/poster/house-at-maidens-near-turnberry-ayrshirethe-dining-room/posterid/RIBA11356.html “Tycoon in Bernat Klein studio plan pledge” Southern Reporter 17 October 2012 (Last accessed 26/02/2017): http://www.thesouthernreporter.co.uk/news/tycoon-inbernat-klein-studio-plan-pledge-1-2584625 Historic Environment Scotland “Our role in planning” (Last accessed 26/02/2017): https://www.historicenvironment.scot/advice-and-support/ planning-and-guidance/our-role-in-planning/#our-advisoryrole_tab
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