I first visited Tone Works in Wellington, England, in June 2021 with Claire Fear and Vanessa Ruhlig of the conservation architecture studio Thread. We gained access through a padlocked door emblazoned with a bewildering array of warning signs. The building—a former dye and finishing works for the Fox Brothers & Co textile company—had been shuttered for close to two decades by this point, and its decay was indexed in the dangers that it presented to unprotected human bodies. Inside the structure, other bodies thrived—mold colonies crept over exposed surfaces, ferns nestled in sunken floor cavities, moss encrusted abandoned equipment, and an adolescent cherry tree grew exuberantly under leaky roof lights. A fine layer of silt coated low-lying floor sections, the residue of the Tone’s flood and fall, the river once integral to the engineering of the works—its flow directed for powering the machinery and rinsing dyes from the processed cloth.
Claire Fear entering Tone Works, June 2021. Photo: Caitlin DeSilvey.
At the time of that visit, Claire and Vanessa had just supervised the completion of an extensive asbestos removal effort as the first phase of their involvement in the site.1 They had been engaged by the local council to think about what the Grade II* listed complex of structures might become, but their brief was open-ended, and given the complexity and condition of the site, they weren’t at all sure what would be possible. Parts were near collapse, held in place by propping and straps. Other areas were basically stable and showed signs of use for storage and spray painting, as well as less legal pursuits. I asked how they planned to proceed, and Claire looked up through a hole in the roof. “The building tells us what it needs,” she said, her tone hopeful. She explained that their way of working on the site would be based on a gradual process of learning about the building, allowing the plan to emerge as they deepened their knowledge—historical, architectural, and ecological. There would be no master plan for now.
My initial conversations with Claire and Vanessa in 2021 came out of my work on “curated decay.”2 Since then, I’ve worked with a group of fellow academics and heritage practitioners to develop a new conceptual framework for thinking about the management of change and transformation in heritage sites and structures.3 In places where structural integrity is being disrupted by ecological complexity, the concept of “adaptive release” offers an alternative to (and an extension of) existing practices of “adaptive reuse.”4 The work that Thread has been doing at Tone Works over the last several years presents an opportunity to think about how these emerging ideas about adaptive heritage might be applied in practice, in a specific place.5 It also, however, allows for a look backward, to touch on how this kind of thinking relates to discussions about adaptation, architecture, and ecology that were swirling about in the 1970s and 1980s.
Afterlives
I can’t remember exactly when I acquired my copy of Stewart Brand’s How Buildings Learn: What Happens After They Are Built, but it must have been shortly after its 1994 publication (the year I graduated from university).6 In the book, Brand includes a diagram with the caption, “Shearing Layers of Change,” which is familiar to many architects. He introduces the diagram with a quote from Frank Duffy: “Our basic argument is that there isn’t such a thing as a building… A building properly conceived is several layers of longevity of built components.”7 Brand goes on to explain how these “layers of longevity” relate to one another, with the more durable layers of “site” (geographical setting) and “structure” (foundation and load-bearing elements) changing more slowly than the more ephemeral layers of “skin” (exterior surfaces) and “services” (wiring, plumbing), and much more slowly than the dynamic elements of “space plan” (interior layout) and “stuff” (furniture). A building, in other words, is not a static thing, but the material reflection of a process of adaptive change over time. Brand’s ideas aligned with discussions about adaptive architecture which had been percolating since the 1970s, and went on to inform the emergence of adaptive reuse as a core concept in conservation theory and practice.8
Brand explicitly links his theory of layered building change to Robert O’Neill’s ecological understanding of rates of change in different ecosystem components, where one can observe slow change in “structures” such as ancient trees and more rapid change in “stuff” such as insect populations. He then turns to ecologist Buzz Holling to elaborate on this idea, citing Holling’s observation that “it is at time of major changes in a system that the quick processes can most influence the slow.”9 By the time Brand published How Buildings Learn, Holling had been working on the concept of “adaptive cycles” in ecosystems for two decades, and it’s clear that Brand, as well as other architecturally oriented, ecologically curious thinkers like Christopher Alexander and Ian McHarg, had been paying attention.10
Holling’s main argument was that ecosystems should be understood as adaptive systems that change over time, with transformations governed by underlying principles of “connectedness” and “potential.”11 His ideas contributed to a wider shift in ecological theory, moving away from assumptions about ecological succession towards stable climax states to try to understand the significance of ongoing disturbance and dynamic change. He illustrated adaptive cycles with a figure eight diagram that showed phases of growth and conservation followed by periods of release, when the system entered into a “back loop” of apparent collapse and destruction.12 Critically, however, the back loop was not an end point, but an opening to a phase of renewal and reorganization, the ecosystem altered but not eliminated.
Diagram of the Adaptive Cycle, from Lance H. Gunderson and C. S. Holling, eds., Panarchy (2002). Source: Resilience Alliance.
If we imagine Stewart Brand reading Buzz Holling when he was developing his ideas about “adaptive use,” the “release” of elements of a building starts to look less like destruction and more like renewal; a generative act in keeping with some of the conceptual grounding behind Brand’s framing of adaptive architecture. What would it look like, then, to make an active decision to accommodate and interpret the dynamic transformation of a historic structure? The concept of “adaptive release” aims to understand heritage value not as a fixed attribute, but as something generated through engagement with a place as it changes, altered by processes of reclamation and renewal:
The term “adaptive” places the emphasis on iterative, reflective management over extended timeframes, involving a program of monitoring of and learning from change. The approach is not passive—it requires extended engagement and almost certainly some continued investment… The term “release” implies some relinquishment of control, and a willingness to accept uncertain outcomes… Adaptive release is broadly based on a principle of non-intervention, but it does not rule out targeted intervention where appropriate. The focus is on process, not on the achievement of a specific state, and the management end point often will not be known, or indeed may change over time.13
Adaptive release integrates established principles of adaptive management (iteration, monitoring, evaluation) with emerging thinking about what we might call “ecocultural” heritage and identity.14 It proposes that, as a site or a structure changes, new relations will emerge—between people and place but also between people and other living entities. These relations, and their associated values and meanings, are not easily sorted into categories of “natural” or “cultural,” but are instead better understood as ecocultural—inherently integrated and contingent. Understanding a structure as an ecocultural system, rather than a solely cultural artifact, allows for an appreciation of the wider ecologies that initially facilitated its construction (forests, fields, foundries) and the way in which these embedded historical ecologies shape future trajectories. A site managed through a process of adaptive release has the potential to generate multiple “co-benefits” for people and for nature, to adopt the language of the moment.15 But can release be held in balance with reuse within a single site, even one composed of several distinct structures?
Ground Truthing
At Tone Works, the complex of structures that make up the site reflects a history of continual adaptive change driven by innovation in industrial process over 200 years. The site is a model case study for adaptive reuse over time, now arrived at a threshold moment where elements of “structure” are compromised, with “skin” and “stuff” sloughing off and “services” now defunct. The vulnerability of the site led to its placement on Historic England’s Heritage at Risk register in 2008, less than a decade after manufacturing ceased. When Somerset Council acquired the Tone Works site in 2020, plans for its future remained open. As Thread became involved, they not only realized that they would need to develop a deeper understanding of the site and its history in order to imagine potential futures, but also that, given issues with instability and access, this process could take some time. Over the past few years, work on the structure has proceeded in an incremental and targeted way, with each phase of work followed by a period of reassessment and reflection about appropriate next steps.16 This kind of iterative process is core to the adaptive management of ecosystems, but less common in adaptive reuse of structures, where architects are often expected to produce a master plan in the initial phases of a brief and broadly stick to it as work proceeds. At Tone Works, the owner (Somerset Council), the architects (Thread), the contractors, and the regulators (Historic England, primarily) were able to develop a collaborative relationship that successfully navigated processes of consenting and permissions as issues and opportunities emerged. But it could easily have been otherwise, with policy and regulation experienced as a barrier to—rather than an enabler of—adaptive, integrated management.17
The commitment to allow the building’s “needs” to guide the process of intervention has been achieved by continually oscillating along the reuse-release axis. It seems that while the building needed its asbestos removed and urgent roof repairs, it also needed to continue sheltering some of the nonhuman inhabitants who have made a home there over the last twenty-five years. An ecological survey carried out in 2022 noted that the site provides (actual or potential) habitat for eight species of bat, various birds, dormice, and otters.18 If these creatures are to continue to be accommodated as the site evolves and is brought back into use—something that Thread has stated as an intention—elements of the complex will need to remain outside the direct control of human intervention, “released” to allow ecosystem function to be maintained. Retention of viable habitat will also, they hope, retain “part of the romance and wonder” of the site, if a balance can be struck between its evocative, ecologically rich abandoned state and its eventual reuse as a public space.19
Making and Growing
We at Thread have been following Caitlin’s work over the past few years with curiosity, interested in how it relates to ours and what it could mean in practice. Our approach to working with building fabric, wildlife, ecology, and heritage has clear resonance with thinking about “curated decay” and its evolution into the more applied and collaborative concept of “adaptive release.” However, both of these terms are likely to evoke discomfort for some. The term “curated decay” may outwardly seem to be a suggestion to deliberately allow heritage to decay, a position which would be in direct conflict with our work as conservation architects, and would likely be challenging for clients, who we generally aim to reassure with the promise of “a finished building.” But to “finish” a building would imply it reaching a fixed end state, which is not something that Tone Works ever achieved in its long history.
Even in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when Tone Works was first built, the buildings were extended and adapted constantly to suit Fox Brothers & Co’s growing manufacturing business, until its decline and ultimate closure. The process of the abandoned buildings’ decay has followed a similar evolution in reverse, as slipped slates have fallen to reveal the interiors to the elements. Holling describes how this apparent collapse or destruction opens up to a phase of renewal and reorganization, which we can see in the presence of natural growth and wildlife throughout the buildings. We see our work as a continuation of this new phase of renewal and reorganization, an opportunity to complement the way nature has embraced the site while working to repair and conserve its historical and social significance.
Our targeted approach to repairs has been determined in large part by circumstance, but underlying it has been a conservation philosophy rooted in respect for the character of the buildings. When we speak of the character of Tone Works, we are thinking about the building fabric, the hands that built and altered it over the years, the machinery which tells the story of industrial innovation through three phases of power generation, the memory of those who worked there before. We are reflecting on the personal marks made over time, names on trolleys and dates on beams, the graffiti left by urban explorers, even the evidence of vandalism in recent years. The character of Tone Works is also formed by the vegetation that, against all odds, has pushed its way through enclosed spaces to thrive, bringing other plant life and wildlife in. Terrified of losing this character to conservation, we attempted to capture it with a photographic record of the building as it was found, “for the purpose of conscience for those that follow, so they are mindful of what life and character there is to lose.”20
Legislation required bat surveys and mitigation to be in place before the asbestos decontamination and any other works could take place, but we knew that our approach to wildlife needed to be more considered than this. Parts of the site had been appropriated by nature so extensively that to remove it entirely felt like a level of destruction far greater than the gradual roof collapses that had enabled it to grow. An example of this is the building known as Area T, a formerly roofed space which housed two large, elevated cast iron tanks used at different times for water softening and oil storage. By the time Somerset Council obtained the site, Area T’s roof had collapsed and fully-established trees were growing in the resulting courtyard space, which was covered in dense vegetation with birds flitting in and out of the leaves. What would the removal of this vegetation accomplish? It would enable the reroofing of a single building, certainly, but what would the reroofing of Area T achieve, within the context of the larger site with its extensive collection of unprotected historic machinery below failing roofs? We also considered this with a view that removal of the vegetation in this area would result in the loss of a layer of the site’s history, one that tells the story of its quiet deterioration and natural renewal.
Area T after repairs, with the retained ash tree, 2023. Photo: Vanessa Ruhlig.
This did not mean that we could simply leave Area T alone and continue with repairs on the rest of the site. The exposed cast iron tanks were at risk of collapse, which put the adjacent Finishing Shed, the Dye Works, and their machinery at risk of being pulled down with the tanks. Steel repairs allowed the vulnerable unsupported gable-end to be tied back to the main walls and incorporated into a steel hanger to support the tanks from above. Although slightly trimmed back, the vegetation in Area T continues to provide a valuable natural habitat on the site. With this area made safer, we have been able to return our focus to the roofing and structural repairs needed elsewhere on the site. By reinstating the building “skin,” we can ensure that a layer of longevity, as described by Brand, is added back to the site’s buildings to enable their continued use in the future; uses which we can only hope will echo the pattern of making and growing which has evolved over time at Tone Works.
See Tone Works project on Thread’s website: ➝.
Caitlin DeSilvey, Curated Decay: Heritage Beyond Saving (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2017); “Tone Works: Curated Decay,” posted October 3 2022, by Wellington Film Festival, ➝.
Landscape Futures and the Challenge of Change: Towards Integrated Cultural/Natural Heritage Decision Making (LFCC) was an Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) Impact and Engagement Follow-on project in the Landscape Decisions Programme (AH/T012196/1), which developed out of the AHRC-funded Heritage Futures research programme.
Caitlin DeSilvey, Harald Fredheim, and Hannah Fluck et al., “When Loss is More: From Managed Decline to Adaptive Release,” The Historic Environment: Policy & Practice 12, nos. 3–4 (2021): 418–33, ➝.
Vanessa Ruhlig, “A Targeted Approach to Conservation Repairs to Save a Heritage At Risk Site - A Case Study,” October 2024, Historic England, ➝.
Stewart Brand, How Buildings Learn: What Happens After They Are Built (New York: Penguin, 1994).
As cited in Brand, How Buildings Learn, 12.
Elena Guidetti and Matteo Robiglio, “The Transformative Potential of Ruins: A Tool for a Nonlinear Design Perspective in Adaptive Reuse,” Sustainability 13, no. 10 (2021): 5660, ➝.
Brand, How Buildings Learn, 17.
Christopher Alexander, A Timeless Way of Building (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979); Ian McHarg, Design with Nature (New York: Doubleday/Natural History Press, 1969.
C.S. Holling, “The resilience of ecosystems: local surprise and global change,” in Sustainable Development of the Biosphere, ed. W. C. Clark and R. E. Munn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 292–317.
Lance H. Gunderson, and C.S. Holling, eds., Panarchy: Understanding Transformations in Human and Natural Systems (Washington, D.C.: Island Press, 2002).
DeSilvey et al, “When Loss is More,” 421.
Tema Milstein, José Castro-Sotomayor, eds., Routledge Handbook of Ecocultural Identity (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2020).
Martin A. Coombes and Heather A. Viles, “Integrating nature-based solutions and the conservation of urban built heritage: Challenges, opportunities, and prospects”, Urban Forestry & Urban Greening 63 (2021).
Ruhlig, “A Targeted Approach to Conservation Repairs.”
Caitlin DeSilvey, Harald Fredheim, Amber Blundell, and Rodney Harrison,” Identifying Opportunities for Integrated Adaptive Management of Heritage Change and Transformation in England: A Review of Relevant Policy and Current Practice,” Historic England Research Report, 2022, ➝.
JH Ecology 2022, “Ecological Appraisal: Tone Works, Tone Mills North, Milverton Road, Wellington, Somerset.”
Clare Fear, on video at ➝.
Claire Fear and Vanessa Ruhlig, Tone Works (Wellington, UK: Acanthus Press, 2023).
