Stefano D’Avino RESTORATION IN ROMANIA

Stefano D’Avino

RESTORATION IN ROMANIA
Theory and practice
ISBN 978-88-501-0392-8

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Contributi Stefano D’Avino
18

Collana del Dipartimento di Architettura

RESTORATION IN ROMANIA
dell’Università degli studi
“G. d’Annunzio” di Chieti-Pescara
Theory and practice

RESTORATION IN ROMANIA CARSA Edizioni Foreword by:

Theory and practice Giovanni CARBONARA
Presidente
Progetto e coordinamento editoriale Roberto Di Vincenzo
Stefano D‘Avino Contributions by:
Amministratore delegato, Direttore artistico Ioan ANDREESCU, Cătălina Gabriela BULBOREA, Adrian CRÂCIUNESCU,
Progetto grafico e impaginazione Giovanni Tavano Mircea CRIŞAN, Mihaela CRITICOS, Hanna DERER,
Stefania Menna, Giulia Monte Adrian GHEORGHIU, Alexandra KELLER, Imola KIRIZSAN,
Direttore editoriale
Fotografie Oscar Buonamano
Kázmér KOVÀCS, Dorottya MAKAY, Adriana MATEI,
Ove non espressamente indicato le immagini sono di proprietà degli Autori Tudor Adrian MATEI, Dan MOHANU, Horia MOLDOVAN,
Responsabile produzione Marius MOSOARCA, Ruxandra NEMȚEANU, Mihai OPREANU,
Finito di stampare nel mese di luglio 2020 presso Roberto Monasterio Cristina SERENDAN, Emilia TUGUI,
Digital Team, Fano (PU) Narcisa TURCANU, Razvan TURCANU
Responsabile distribuzione
Pierluigi La Banca
Interview with Șerban STURDZA
Direzione e redazione
Piazza Salvator Allende, 4
65128 Pescara - Italia
www.carsaedizioni.it - www.carsa.it

Volume stampato con il contributo del M.I.U.R.

Ministero dell‘Istruzione, dell’Università e della Ricerca

© Copyright 2020 CARSA Edizioni, Pescara.

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ISBN 978-88-501-0392-8
INDEX

FOREWORD 6 SYNTHETIC OF ARCHITECTURAL DETAILS USING 3D MODELLING AND 3D 194

Giovanni CARBONARA PRINTING
Adrian GHEORGHIU, Ioan ANDREESCU
RESTORATION IN ROMANIA: CONSIDERATIONS ABOUT SOME RECENT 14
PROJECTS THE RESTORATION OF EARLY 20TH CENTURY RESIDENTIAL BUILDINGS IN 200
Stefano D’AVINO BUCHAREST
Mircea CRIŞAN
MINEFIELDS. ON THE AUTHENTICITY OF HISTORICAL BUILDINGS 94
Kázmér KOVÀCS “ST CATHERINE” NURSERY IN BUCHAREST: RESTORATION, CONSOLIDATION 206
AND VALORISATION
CONTEMPORARY INTERVENTIONS IN HISTORICAL AREAS. THE CASE OF 100 Ruxandra NEMȚEANU
ROMANIA
Mihaela CRITICOS A COMPLEX ASSESSMENT OF ROOF STRUCTURES 224
Ioan ANDREESCU, Alexandra KELLER, Marius MOSOARCA
THE BUILT HERITAGE OF ROMANIA. CONTEXT, PERCEPTION AND PERSPECTIVES 112
Cătălina Gabriela BULBOREA THE CHURCHES CARVED IN CHALK ARCHAEOLOLOGICAL SITE, XTH CENTURY 228
MURFATLAR (BASARABI), DEPT. OF CONSTANTA
A GLIMPSE OF URBAN DEVELOPMENT AND MONUMENT PRESERVATION IN 126 Mihai OPREANU
BUCHAREST
Emilia TUGUI A PUZZLE-PIECE FOR HISTORIC BUILDING CONSERVATION IN TRANSYLVANIA 236
2003-2017
ABOUT INTERVENTIONS ON HISTORIC BUILDINGS IN TRANSYLVANIA. CHANGES 138 Dorottya MAKAY
OF APPROACH, FROM LOCAL INTERVENTIONS TO COMPLEX CONSERVATION
WORKS REHABILITATION OF SANCRAI-ALBA CASTLE FROM TRANSYLVANIA 248
Imola KIRIZSAN Adriana MATEI, Narcisa TURCANU, Razvan TURCANU, Tudor Adrian MATEI

THE CULTURAL HERITAGE CODE IN ROMANIA. CONCEPT AND EVOLUTION 150 A CRITICAL OVERVIEW UPON THE EARLY RESTORATION IN THE ROMANIAN 254
Adrian CRÂCIUNESCU SPACE: THE CASE OF PRINCELY CHURCH IN DOMNEȘTI DIN CURTEA DE ARGEȘ
Dan MOHANU
CULTURAL VALUES BETWEEN PRESERVATION THEORY, PRACTICE AND LAW. 162
EXCERPTS FROM THE ROMANIAN STORY THE IMPACT OF PAST RESTORATIONS ON A VERY FRAGILE PAINTING 272
Hanna DERER TECHNIQUE: THE APPLIED RELIEF BROCADES IN TRANSYLVANIAN ALTARPIECES
Cristina SERENDAN
THE BEGINNINGS OF MODERN PRACTICES OF CONSERVATION OF THE BUILT 172
HERITAGE IN 19TH CENTURY ROMANIA: THE INVOLVEMENT OF FOREIGN INTERVIEW WITH ARCHITECT ȘERBAN STURDZA 278
ARCHITECTS
Horia MOLDOVAN

BUCAREST BURNS? NAMELY RESTORATION OF MONUMENTS AND URBAN 186

POLICY IN ROMANIA DURING THE REGIME OF NICOLAE CEAUŞESCU
Stefano D’AVINO
 FOREWORD
Giovanni CARBONARA
6 7
Analysis of the recent restoration experiences in Romania,
observed from the theoretical and practical standpoint, provides a
certainly dynamic panorama, ever-evolving and difficult to frame
in a concise vision. As Stefano D’Avino writes, there are many
contributions in this area, but they are “not always coherent”. But
there is no denying a series of steps forward taken over the past
five years, thanks to the entry into the field of a new, “European”
generation of experts.
In essence, Romania, albeit with reference to criteria that are
broadly shared at least on a European level, is still seeking to
define its way, necessarily influenced by factors of a political,
legislative, and economic, and more broadly socio-cultural nature;
all these elements bear on the conception and practice of the
protection and restoration of the country’s historic and artistic
heritage.
One need merely consider the official orientations in the era of
the dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu (1967-89) and his political use – as
was at any rate done in Italy five decades earlier – of monuments
and culture; or also the contemporary closure to the outside,
then offset by a reassuring appeal to the academy of nineteenth-
century memory; and attitudes, in restoration, that might be
termed “stylistic”, attentive above all to the interventions’
aesthetic returns.
An external closure, but also a gradually internal one: one may
merely consider the suppression of the Directorate of Historical
Monuments in 1977; or, in the urban area, the government’s
unscrupulous choice, made by taking advantage of the 1977
earthquake, in favour of coldly destroying a great many
ancient remnants, equal in Bucharest alone to about 9,000
architectural works; or the forced transfers of monuments; or
the regularization, with grievous damage to ancient fabrics, of
the urban fronts. But the shadow of that season was extended,
L’analisi delle recenti esperienze di restauro in Romania, osservate
sotto il profilo teoretico e pratico, restituisce un panorama
sicuramente dinamico, in perenne evoluzione e difficile da
inquadrare in una visione di sintesi. Come scrive Stefano D’Avino,
molti sono gli apporti in materia, ma “non sempre coerenti”,
pur se risulta innegabile una serie di progressi nell’ultimo
quindicennio, merito dell’entrata in campo di una nuova
generazione ‘europea’ di esperti.
In sostanza la Romania, pur in riferimento a criteri ampiamente
condivisi, almeno a livello europeo, sta ancora cercando di definire
una propria strada, necessariamente influenzata da fattori di
natura politica, legislativa, economica e più ampiamente socio-
culturale; tutti elementi che influiscono sulla concezione e sulla
prassi della tutela e del restauro del patrimonio storico-artistico
della Nazione.
Basti pensare agli orientamenti ufficiali nell’era del dittatore
Nicolae Ceaușescu (1967-89) ed al suo uso politico - d’altronde
come già in Italia un cinquantennio prima - dei monumenti e della
cultura; ma anche alla contemporanea chiusura verso l’esterno,
allora compensata da un rassicurante richiamo all’accademia
di ottocentesca memoria e ad atteggiamenti, nel restauro,
definibili come ‘stilistici’, attenti soprattutto alla resa estetica degli
interventi.
Chiusura esterna ma progressivamente anche interna, quando
solo si pensi alla soppressione nel 1977 della Direzione dei
Monumenti Storici o, in campo urbano, alla spregiudicata scelta
governativa, operata approfittando del terremoto del 1977,
di fredda distruzione di numerosissime antiche testimonianze,
pari nella sola Bucarest a circa 9000 architetture; alle forzate
traslazioni dei monumenti; alla regolarizzazione, con gravi danni
ai tessuti antichi, dei fronti urbani. Ma l’eco di quella stagione
si è prolungata, come scriveva Sergiu Nistor nel 2015, nel corso
as Sergiu Nistor wrote in 2015, for at least ten years after the
fall of the authoritarian regime, then being replaced, as in many
other countries of the formerly Communist Europe, by a market-
oriented “globalization” that came to rapidly occupy the space left
open by the old “ideologization.”
However, this political and ideological conditioning is not
monolithic throughout Central and Eastern Europe, as shown by
the case of Hungary, which, in the specific field of architectural
restoration, was open as early as the 1960s to the new arrivals
originating from the West, and especially from Italy, after the
promulgation of the Venice Charter in 1964.
At any rate, in Romania too, since the late 1990s we may observe
an approach closer to the positions of “critical restoration”
and of the aforementioned Charter, and to the Italian ones,
especially in the sector of fresco restoration; and in architecture,
with experiences of various kinds, connected to an attitude of
empiricism and of continuous research oscillating between good
conservation and rash experimentation – above all in the capital
– on the delicate relationship between the old and the new.
As D’Avino notes, even today, the situation offered by Romania
ranges from a “reckless contemporary form-shaping to a strictly
conservative restoration”.
These statements are supported by a series of examples, clearly
presented and commented upon, starting – in the area of
good results – from the restoration of the nineteenth-century
Casa Mincu, done by prof. arch. Șerban Sturdza, who grants an
interesting interview at the end of this volume. The intervention
was guided by a prior reading and direct analysis of the work,
which was then extended to the entire duration of the work
site, in the intent to safeguard the well studied and understood
architectural palimpsest. This was followed by experiences of
careful and measured dialogue between the old and new, and of
On the previous page:
Giovanni Carbonara and Stefano
D’Avino
di almeno altri dieci anni dopo la caduta del regime autoritario,
per essere poi sostituita, come in tanti altri Paesi dell’Europa
ex-comunista, da una ‘globalizzazione’ mercatista venuta
rapidamente ad occupare il posto lasciato libero dalla vecchia
‘ideologizzazione’.
Condizionamento politico-ideologico tuttavia non monolitico
in tutta l’Europa centro-orientale, come dimostra il caso
dell’Ungheria, molto aperta, nel campo specifico del restauro
architettonico, già negli scorsi anni sessanta alle novità
che provenivano dall’Occidente, specie dall’Italia, dopo la
promulgazione della Carta di Venezia nel 1964.
Comunque anche in Romania, dalla fine degli anni novanta si può
osservare un avvicinamento alle posizioni del ‘restauro critico’ e
della predetta Carta, ed a quelle italiane, soprattutto nel settore
del restauro degli affreschi; in architettura, con esperienze di vario
tipo, legate ad un atteggiamento empirico e di continua ricerca
oscillante fra buona conservazione ed avventate sperimentazioni,
soprattutto nella capitale, sul delicato rapporto fra antico e nuovo.
Come nota D’Avino, anche oggi il quadro offerto dalla Romania si
muove da “una spregiudicata formatività contemporanea ad un
restauro strettamente conservativo”.
Tali affermazioni sono confortate da una serie di esempi,
chiaramente presentati e commentati, a partire, sul fronte
dei buoni risultati, dal restauro della ottocentesca Casa
Mincu, condotto dal prof. arch. Șerban Sturdza, cui è riservata
un’interessante intervista alla fine del presente volume. Intervento
guidato da una preventiva lettura critica e analisi diretta
dell’opera, estesa poi a tutta la durata del cantiere, nell’intento
di salvaguardare il palinsesto architettonico, ben studiato e
compreso. Seguono esperienze di attento e misurato dialogo fra
antico e nuovo e di reimpiego del ‘frammento architettonico’,
come nel caso di una cappella privata nella località di Cetate.
8 9
reutilization of the “architectural fragment,” as in the case of a
private chapel in the town of Cetate.
Before going on to compare examples and cases of a different
nature, both positive and negative, consideration is to be made
of the specific nature of rural and ecclesiastical architecture,
especially “minor” architecture, to this day linked to a typological
and constructive living tradition, also in terms of materials
and techniques, leading to forms of continuity not too easily
identifiable as “reinstatement”, but more profoundly and
solidly motivated; this is in accordance with that perpetuation
of traditional modes that even a scholar who was a follower of
Brandi, like Paul Philippot, appreciated, especially in the Asian
world, recognizing in it not only the cold exhumation of ancient
ways, but a spontaneous and natural continuity.
In Stefano D’Avino’s acute analysis, cases not without a certain
ambiguity of concept and method are also discussed, a sign of
the empiricism alluded to earlier: cases in which historical respect
is accompanied by the elusion of the issue of the “facilitation of
the reading” of the monument, which is to say of that “revealing”
datum cited, for example, by art. 9 of the Venice Charter and by
art. 4 of the Italian Restoration Charter of 1972. There are other
cases in which “philology” is misunderstood – as it also is by
many people in Italy – as a cultural guarantee of reinstatement
practices, at all times aimed at achieving completeness to the
detriment of the subject and its documentary value; this is the
case while one of the foundational roots of authentic philology is
the use of an effective diacritical apparatus, aimed at expressing
the uncertainties and the scientific doubt present in every act
of interpretation – and therefore of reintegration. This doubt
brings with it respect for authenticity, and therefore adhesion
to the principle of the least intervention, of reversibility and
compatibility, and to other guiding criteria of restoration as
Prima di passare a confrontare esempi e casi di natura diversa,
tanto positivi quanto negativi, va considerata la specificità
dell’architettura rurale ed ecclesiastica, soprattutto ‘minore’,
tuttora legata ad una tradizione costruttiva e tipologica
viva, anche nei materiali e nelle tecniche, la quale induce a
forme di continuità non troppo facilmente identificabili come
‘ripristino’ ma più profondamente e solidamente motivate; ciò
secondo quella perpetuazione di modi tradizionali che anche
uno studioso di osservanza brandiana come Paul Philippot
apprezzava, soprattutto nel mondo asiatico, riconoscendovi non
la riesumazione a freddo di modi antichi ma una spontanea e
naturale continuità.
Nell’acuta analisi di Stefano D’Avino sono discussi anche casi
non privi d’una certa ambiguità concettuale e di metodo, segno
dell’empiria cui prima s’è fatto cenno: casi in cui al rispetto storico
si accompagna l’elusione del tema della ‘facilitazione della lettura’
del monumento, cioè di quel dato ‘rivelativo’ richiamato, per
esempio, dall’art. 9 della Carta di Venezia ed anche dall’art. 4 della
Carta italiana del restauro del 1972. Poi altri casi in cui la ‘filologia’
è intesa, come per altro anche da molti in Italia, erroneamente
quale garanzia culturale delle pratiche di ripristino, sempre
miranti al raggiungimento della compiutezza formale a scapito
della materia e del suo valore documentario; ciò mentre una
delle radici fondative dell’autentica filologia è l’uso di un efficace
apparato diacritico, volto ad esprimere le incertezze e il dubbio
scientifico presenti in ogni atto interpretativo, dunque anche
reintegrativo, dubbio che porta con sé il rispetto dell’autenticità,
quindi l’adesione al principio del minimo intervento, della
reversibilità, della compatibilità ed agli altri criteri-guida del
restauro modernamente inteso, assolutamente lontano dal
ripristino.
Tornando ai buoni esempi D’Avino illustra il restauro della
understood in the modern era, entirely far from reinstatement.
Returning to positive examples, D’Avino illustrates the restoration
of the church of Carta, done in 2014 and founded upon a
careful archival investigation, stratigraphic reading, and critical
interpretation of the text: this gives rise to the search for
minimum impact in contemporary interventions, and a proposal
for a reading of the monument’s history that is neither partialized
nor selective, but accepting of its entire development process
over time. No different is the case of the Theresia Bastion in
Timişoara, restored between 2008 and 2010 with a language of
great quality, and without impacting the original matter, but only
the image, “suggesting a proper reading” of it, almost in the form
of a “re-composition of the passages of an interrupted discourse,
as in a musical score”; or the “dialoguing co-presence of the
ancient and the new” that may be appreciated in the restoration
of the Ştefan Tower in the city of Baia Mare, completed between
2014 and 2016.
With regard to the industrial heritage as well, there is no lack
of good examples, as in the case of the water plant of Suceava
which presents, among other things, the “conservation of the
original plaster” understood as “technological frescoes,” and a
meritorious respect for the old surfaces of reinforced concrete, an
example from which Italy, too, might learn. Thus, in archaeology,
one may merely consider the treatment of the towers in the
fifteenth-century Drobeta citadel in the city of Cetatea, or the
care in the elimination of the biological decay of the ruins of Ulpia
Traiana Sarmizegetusa; or the cases of intense interdisciplinary
exchange, monitoring, care in the documentation of the various
phases of restoration, and respect for the genius loci displayed
by numerous contemporary interventions aimed at building
provisional roofs.
But it is especially in the restoration of frescoes, perhaps
chiesa di Carta, condotto nel 2014 e fondato su una accurata
indagine archivistica, lettura stratigrafica, interpretazione critica
del testo: da qui la ricerca del minimo impatto degli interventi
contemporanei e una proposta di lettura non parzializzata né
selettiva della storia del monumento ma l’accettazione del suo
intero processo di sviluppo nel tempo. Non diverso il caso del
Bastione Theresia a Timişoara, restaurato fra il 2008 e il 2010 con
un linguaggio di grande qualità e senza incidere sulla materia
originale ma solo sull’immagine, “suggerendone una corretta
lettura” quasi nella forma d’una “ricomposizione dei brani di
un discorso interrotto, come di uno spartito” musicale; o la
“dialogante compresenza antico/nuovo” che si può apprezzare nel
restauro della Torre Ştefan, nella città di Baia Mare, compiuto far
il 2014 e il 2016.
Anche riguardo al patrimonio industriale i buoni esempi non
mancano, come nel caso della centrale idrica di Suceava che
presenta, fra l’altro, la “conservazione degli intonaci originali”
intesi come “affreschi tecnologici” e un meritorio rispetto delle
vecchie superfici di calcestruzzo armato, esempio da cui anche
l’Italia potrebbe imparare. Così in archeologia, quando solo si
pensi al trattamento delle torri della quattrocentesca Cittadella di
Drobeta, nella città di Cetatea, o della cura nell’eliminazione del
degrado biologico dai ruderi di Sarmizegetusa Ulpia Traiana; o
anche ai casi d’intenso scambio interdisciplinare, monitoraggio,
cura nella documentazione delle diverse fasi di restauro, rispetto
del genius loci attestati da numerosi interventi contemporanei
volti alla realizzazione di coperture provvisorie.
Ma è soprattutto nel restauro degli affreschi, forse
impropriamente distinto dalla più generale teoria e pratica della
conservazione, che si vedono gli esiti del fecondo confronto,
risalente addirittura agli anni ’60 e ’70 del secolo scorso, con
studiosi e qualificatissimi restauratori, come Paul Philippot e
10
improperly distinguished from the more general theory and
practice of conservation, that the results are seen of the fertile
dialogue, dating back even to the 1960s and ‘70s, with scholars
and highly qualified restorers, like Paul Philippot and Raymond
Lemaire on the one hand, and Laura and Paolo Mora on the other,
through ICCROM, which fostered the opening of a “privileged
channel for the penetration of advanced theories in the field of
restoration”. This channel yielded positive results, for example
in the interventions on frescoes of various eras, in churches, and
in the monasteries of northern Moldavia, but also in Bucharest
itself (biserica Coltea and biserica Doamnei), where the ways
of Brandi can be seen applied intelligently and with conviction,
from the striped fabric to the veilings, to respect for the old
plaster, patched and not demolished and redone, and the
aforementioned guiding criteria of the restoration.
But this is just one side of the coin; on the other, different and less
appreciable cases are presented and discussed in the same way,
ranging from ex novo reconstructions like the one done, since
2002, on the ancient foundations of the seventeenth-century
church of the Virgin Mary in the presidential palace of Cotroceni
in Bucharest, to others founded upon a relationship of conflict
between old and new. In these cases, the pre-existing element is
subjected to the logic of the modern intervention, with adhesion
to an “intentionally deviating and dissonant language.” The
intervention becomes a “pretext” for a free overlapping onto the
old, and to its detriment, in the anti-historical conviction of being
able to continue the “evolutionary process of the architectural
work,” its “synchronous editing”, while refusing, at the base, all
the developments and acquisitions of thought in the matter, at
least from the eighteenth century to date, and opening the way to
drifts of tourism and consumerism.
In this series, there is no lack of examples of out-of-scale
Raymond Lemaire, da una parte, Laura e Paolo Mora dall’altra,
tramite l’ICCROM, che favorì l’apertura di un “canale privilegiato
di penetrazione delle più avanzate teorie nel campo del
restauro”. Canale che ha prodotto positivi risultati, ad esempio
negli interventi sugli affreschi, di varia epoca, nelle chiese e nei
monasteri della Moldavia settentrionale ma anche nella stessa
Bucarest (biserica Coltea e biserica Doamnei) dove si possono
vedere applicati con sapienza e convinzione modi brandiani, dal
rigatino alle velature, al rispetto dei vecchi intonaci, rappezzati e
non demoliti e rifatti, ed i menzionati criteri-guida del restauro.
Ma questo è solo un lato della medaglia; sull’altro sono presentati
ed ugualmente discussi casi diversi e meno apprezzabili, che
vanno dalle ricostruzioni ex novo, come quella condotta, dal 2002,
sulle antiche fondazioni della chiesa seicentesca della Vergine
Maria nel Palazzo presidenziale di Cotroceni a Bucarest ad altri
fondati su un conflittuale rapporto fra antico e nuovo. In questi
casi la preesistenza viene sottoposta alla logica del moderno
intervento, con l’adesione ad un “linguaggio volutamente difforme
e dissonante”. L’intervento diviene un “pretesto” per una libera
sovrapposizione sull’antico ed a suo danno, nell’antistorica
convinzione di poter continuare il “processo evolutivo dell’opera
architettonica”, la sua “redazione sincronica”, rifiutando alla base
tutti gli sviluppi e le acquisizioni di pensiero, almeno dal Settecento
ad oggi, in materia ed aprendo la strada a derive turistico-
consumistiche.
Non mancano, in questa serie, esempi d’interventi fuori scala,
violenti e in assoluto contrasto, miranti, se possibile, alla
sostituzione invece che al restauro. Sono tutte tendenze presenti
anche in Italia ma tenute a freno da una legislazione più attenta
di quella odierna romena. Ma forse i danni maggiori e più
estesi sono quelli provocati dagli equivoci della ‘riqualificazione
urbana’, cui prima s’è fatto cenno richiamando gli esiti infausti del
interventions, violent and absolutely clashing, aiming, where
possible, at replacement rather than restoration. These are
all trends present in Italy, too, but reined in by a legislation
more attentive than Romania’s current laws. But perhaps the
greatest and most extensive damage is that caused by the
misunderstandings of “urban requalification,” mentioned earlier
with reference to the unfortunate results of the 1977 earthquake
– and, in fact, of the post-earthquake as risks taking place in Italy
today. However, a note of appreciation and hope derives from
the uncommon “technical/artisanal skills” and from the “ability to
lead work site phases” typical of Romanian architects, giving rise
to many interesting, quality solutions – details that have been well
studied and executed.
In his conclusions, D’Avino appeals to the essential will of the
Romanian nation to join (after the decade of uncertainty in the
late twentieth century) European developments, opening to
dialogue but without neglecting – even while respecting the
“current critical tools” – a cultivation of its specific features. He
then observes how the legislation in this matter is still inadequate
and that there is no “solid structure of national protection”; all
this is in a context that, fortunately, still sees reduced tourism
exploitation, which today generally constitutes one of the gravest
threats to the integrity of a heritage extolled with words and
abused in deeds.
Lastly and in another way, the large bibliography at the end shows
what has been possible to observe thus far, which is to say the
decided opening to the most up-to-date developments of the
theory and methodology of restoration starting from the most
recent years – one might say from the beginning of the second
decade of the 21st century.
On the whole, Romania’s proud attitude in this field is yielding
good results, albeit while following a line of autonomy/integration
11
terremoto del 1977, anzi, del post-terremoto come peraltro, pur se
in diversa misura, rischia di accadere oggi in Italia.
Una nota di apprezzamento e di speranza deriva, tuttavia, dalle
non comuni “competenze tecnico/artigianali” e dalla “capacità di
condurre le fasi di cantiere” proprie degli architetti rumeni, da cui
discendono soluzioni molto interessanti e di qualità, dettagli ben
studiati ed eseguiti.
Nelle sue conclusioni D’Avino richiama la sostanziale volontà della
Nazione romena di affiancarsi (dopo il decennio d’incertezze di
fine Novecento) agli sviluppi europei, aprendosi al dialogo ma
senza rinunciare, pur nel rispetto degli “strumenti critici attuali”,
a coltivare le proprie specificità. Osserva poi come la legislazione
in materia sia ancora inadeguata e come manchi “una solida
struttura di tutela nazionale”; tutto ciò in un contesto che,
fortunatamente, vede ancora un ridotto sfruttamento turistico,
il quale oggi costituisce, in genere, una delle più gravi minacce
all’integrità del patrimonio, osannato a parole e maltrattato nei
fatti.
L’ampia bibliografia finale lascia emergere, in ultimo e per altra
via, quanto s’è potuto fin qui osservare, vale a dire la decisa
apertura ai più aggiornati sviluppi della teoria e metodologia del
restauro a partire dagli anni più recenti, si potrebbe dire dall’inizio
del secondo decennio del XXI secolo.
Nel complesso l’atteggiamento orgoglioso della Romania in
questo campo sta producendo buoni risultati, pur seguendo
una linea di autonomia/integrazione che ricorda, per certi versi,
quella dell’Inghilterra, anche per il suo carattere di forte ma sano
empirismo. Tanti sono i danni che l’ideologia, il mercato e una
lamentata mancanza di preparazione specifica, come afferma
Șerban Sturdza nella sua intervista, hanno provocato e ancora
provocano, ma questi sono contenuti da una certa povertà di
mezzi che, in alcuni casi, è la migliore alleata della conservazione.
12
that, in certain ways, brings to mind that in England, also for its
characteristic of strong yet healthy empiricism. There is so much
damage that ideology, the market, and a lamented lack of specific
preparation – as Șerban Sturdza states in his interview – have
caused and are still causing, but this damage is contained by a
certain poverty of means that, in certain cases, is the best ally of
conservation. There is, then, a positive “didactic” vocation, linked
to that pride for the very heritage that was mentioned, shown for
example by the restoration of the Reformed church of Ciumeşti.
In the intent to make up for the delays that have accumulated for
various unfortunate reasons, Romania’s entire story in this matter
appears to fast-forward through the story of other countries:
Great Britain above all, but Italy and Germany, too.
Stefano D’Avino’s work takes scrupulous account of all this,
without neglecting to assess – even with difficulty at times, but
always with lively interest and personal, friendly participation –
the events taking place in this noble nation and its monuments.
He uses a lively prose rich in particularly effective expressions,
some of which we have intentionally reported: never flat or
merely descriptive. And in this way, he reviews – without ever
burdening the reading with inessential, erudite disquisitions, and
in an orderly fashion – all the disciplinary problems in question.
It seems to me that the same might be said of the entire volume
and of the contributions by several Romanian authors who
discuss particular themes, starting from the first ones, like the
one by Kazmer Kovács focusing on a reflection on the concept of
“authenticity” – a concept for decades, at least since the years of
the Nara conference of 1994, not sufficiently clarified with regard
to the architecture sector; or, following him, Mihaela Criticos, on
the risks of “requalification” in place of a true “urban restoration,”
and on the risks exerted by the “pressure of real estate interests,”
the excesses of local powers unable to, if not disinterested in,
13
Esiste poi una positiva vocazione ‘didattica’, legata a quell’orgoglio seriously facing the problems of protection, and the various fa conservazione e sicurezza, sulla storia del restauro in Romania
per i propri beni di cui s’è detto, testimoniata per esempio dal categories of intervention that may be recognized in her country’s e, con Cristina Serendan, su una riflessione circa le opere d’arte,
restauro della chiesa riformata di Ciumeşti. L’intera vicenda operative practice, read with serene critical detachment, and trattate secondo il principio del minimo intervento e del massimo
romena in materia sembra ripercorrere velocemente, come in without prejudices; and then there is Catalina-Gabriela Bulborea di conoscenza preventiva.
moviola, nell’intento di recuperare i ritardi accumulatisi per varie on the prospects and the perception of Romania’s great cultural Concludendo, mi associo volentieri ai sentimenti implicitamente
infelici ragioni, quella di altri paesi, l’Inghilterra soprattutto ma heritage. And, to close, there are the themes of restoration of the espressi da Stefano D’Avino di vicinanza a questa nobile Nazione
anche l’Italia e la Germania. modern, structural consolidation, the difficult balance between che, dopo tante sofferenze, sta cercando di delineare con
Di tutto ciò il lavoro di Stefano D’Avino dà scrupolosamente conto, conservation and safety, the history of restoration in Romania intelligenza e impegno, consapevole della propria collocazione
senza esimersi dal valutare, anche duramente alcune volte ma and, with Cristina Serendan, a reflection on artworks treated europea, la sua strada nel campo della conservazione del
sempre con vivo interesse e personale, amichevole partecipazione, in accordance with the principle of minimum intervention and patrimonio culturale.
la vicenda in atto di questa nobile Nazione e dei suoi monumenti. maximum prior knowledge.
Egli usa una prosa vivace e ricca di espressioni di particolare To conclude, I am glad to echo the sentiments implicitly expressed Giovanni Carbonara
efficacia, alcune delle quali abbiamo volutamente riportato, mai by Stefano D’Avino, of being close to this noble nation that, after
piatta né meramente descrittiva ed in tal modo passa in rassegna, so much suffering, is seeking to mark out – with intelligence,
senza mai appesantire la lettura con inessenziali disquisizioni commitment, and awareness of its place in Europe – its own path
erudite, ordinatamente tutti i problemi disciplinari in esame. in the field of conservation of the cultural heritage.
Mi sembra che lo stesso si possa dire dell’intero volume e dei
contribuiti dei diversi autori romeni che si soffermano su temi Giovanni Carbonara
particolari, a partire dai primi, come quello di Kazmer Kovács
incentrato su una riflessione sul concetto di ‘autenticità’, da
decenni, almeno dagli anni del convegno di Nara nel 1994,
non sufficientemente chiarito per quanto riguarda il settore
dell’architettura; o, a seguire, di Mihaela Criticos sui rischi della
‘riqualificazione’ in luogo di un vero ‘restauro urbano’ e su quelli
esercitati dalla “pressure of real estate interests”, sull’eccesso
di poteri locali, incapaci se non disinteressati ad affrontare
seriamente i problemi di tutela, sulle varie categorie d’intervento
riconoscibili nella pratica operativa del suo Paese, lette con sereno
distacco critico e senza pregiudizi; poi ancora di Catalina-Gabriela
Bulborea sulle prospettive e la percezione del grande patrimonio
culturale romeno. Oppure, in chiusura, sui temi del restauro del
moderno, sul consolidamento strutturale e sul difficile equilibrio
 RESTORATION IN ROMANIA: CONSIDERATIONS ABOUT SOME RECENT PROJECTS
Stefano D’AVINO
14
Introduction
The most recent experiences in Romania in the area of restoration
(and, more generally, conservation), and the related theoretical
research, help determine a highly dynamic picture that highlights
contributions that are multiple in number, but not always actually
consistent. This study proposes an overview that does not aspire
to being comprehensive, but rather intends to provide a tool to
facilitate understanding of a complex, articulated process that is
to this day only marginally touched upon by specific studies.
At any rate, given Romania’s lack of an organic framework, of
an expressive language that has consolidated into widespread
practice, no comprehensive summary outline of restoration
practice in our country can be drawn, except partially (and at
any rate, making reference to cases insufficiently significant in
number).
The past twenty years have witnessed growing critical agitation
with regard to restoration, fed by the reflections of a new
generation of experts educated in the European context; it
comes as no surprise that between 2012 and 2018, no fewer
than three issues of the prestigious periodical Architectura 1906
have included articles by excellent specialists who have made a
significant contribution towards repositioning Romania within the
European setting in the discipline.
The reasons for this late path are briefly explained by Sergiu
Nistor: “In the field of built heritage protection, Romania has been
in a prolonged management crisis from three different points of
view: this can be proven by a shortage of funding that tends to
become chronic, by a lack of specialised personnel and by the lack
of medium-term strategies (and long-term if it were possible). A
specific phenomenon – the legislative instability, unfortunately
completed by the institutional one and by the fragility of the
body of civil servants assigned by the authorities to built heritage
protection – is added to these weaknesses or incoherences”
(Nistor 2012, 246).
At any rate, there is awareness in Romania of the difficulties
(and also of the absolute need) to implement all the measures
necessary to protect and capitalize on historic and artistic
heritage. “Heritage is subject to different threats. (…) Romania
adopted all the important international conventions on heritage
conservation. But even after becoming a member of the European
Union, this takeover seems to be purely formal” (Pop 2010, 38).
On the one hand the heritage has survived of a restoration
“of recovery” (in some cases driven towards free formal re-
proposition), too often sustained by a popular sentiment rather
prone to continuity. However, on the other hand, observation
of many of the interventions done over the past decade clearly
shows the sense of a research capable of expressing itself with
contemporary critical tools – and that likewise, various attempts
are being seen to search for a virtuous interaction/co-presence
between conserving the material testimony of the past and frank
experimentation of a contemporary architectural language (in line
with certain advanced Iberian experiences rather than with more
meditated interventions in Italy).
Although the condition of restoration in Romania currently
presents a multitude of themes and of operative events, it
cannot be disregarded how, for a long time, the expression of an
autonomous school of native-born thought has been impeded,
with a preference rather for conforming to the practices adopted
in other European countries of greater tradition, particularly
France. Until the inter-War period, restoration in Romania was in
fact guided into the current of the so-called “stylistic” restoration,
due also to the inheritance received at the turn of the twentieth
century from André Lecompte du Nouÿ, student of Viollet le Duc,
who long operated in Romania (and who was responsible for the
restoration of many of the country’s religious buildings).
Restoration in the Nicolae Ceaușescu era
The long history of the Ceaușescu dictatorship (1967-1989) –
which was attentive to any possible use of architecture as a
propaganda tool rather than to conserving the country’s historic
and artistic heritage – certainly conditioned the approach towards
this heritage, and in fact impeded dialogue with the experiences
underway at the same time in Europe. This determined a
temporary cultural breakage from other countries, thus placing
the discipline in a marginal position, without the support of
the necessary theoretical reflection subjugated to the need to
celebrate national glories – and thereby in fact excluding almost
an entire generation from the debate. Therefore, many of the
restoration interventions carried out until the 1990s bore a clear
stylistic direction, the heritage of the teaching imparted in the
academies in the first decades of the twentieth century.
Moreover, “the use of the reinforced concrete in restoration
after WWII, as the consolidations required, as well as its
maneuverability, especially by the largely available socialist
less skilled personnel, lead in the 1960’s to an extensive use
of this material in restoration. Casting the ancient historic
vaults and domes very easy with reinforced concrete made
reconstructions feasible, appealing and cheap. As the socialist
regime was interested in displaying for the masses certain historic
monuments in a didactic and ideologically interpreted way, which
meant having the buildings in their entirety, reconstructions were
encouraged” (Nistor 2012, 226).
The suppression in 1977 of Directia Monumentelor Istorice
(reinstituted only in 1989) in fact nullified the values that this
Institution was tasked with protecting and, also due to the
supervening economic crisis and the poor professional training
1. The Văcărești monastery before its
demolition in December 1984 (pri-
vate archive).
15
of restorers (who lacked a proper training school), produced the
effect of a substantial suspension, during that historical phase, of
all restoration or maintenance activity, and conversely ushered
in a season of “systematic destructions of historic sites and
monuments” (Mohanu 2006, 416); emblematic of this was the
demolition of the Văcărești monastery (fig. 1) between 11 and 15
December 1984.
Nor, for the purpose of showing a different reality aimed at
activating dialogue with foreign experts, did the different
initiatives promoted by the regime have any value, as in the case
of the tour of Romania organized by Directia Monumentelor
Istorice in Bucharest. Held from 20 September through 04
October 1971, the tour attracted archaeologists and architects
from several countries to discuss onsite the problems and method
related to restoration, to conserving urban historic centres, and
to consolidating ruins and setting them up as museums, as Luc
Devliegher testifies (Devliegher, 1973).
Between the 20th and 21st centuries
Even after 1989, there was a clear prevalence of an approach to
the work that was eminently (if not exclusively) aesthetic, a clear
reference to a restoration practice patterned in the nineteenth
century, favoured over a historical/critical-type analysis and
interpretation. Consequently, the theme of the intervention
on historic pre-existing elements is fully summarized with a
compositional practice whose horizons lie in the successful
aesthetics of the work, thereby sidestepping the issue of
confrontation between historical heritage and contemporary
architecture.
In that historic phase, a practice takes shape that is highly
characterized by a prolonged French-patterned stylistic
experience – an “adaptation” that conditioned the development
 2. Bucharest, headquarters of the
National Council of Architects (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).
16
of a theorization process which, conversely, during the same
period albeit with different outcomes, involved most European
countries.
More recently, and at times with interesting operative results,
these historicist positions of, we might say, an “academic ” stamp,
were countered by hypotheses of a more modern orientation,
tending to experiment with the dialogue between ancient
structures and modern insertions. In particular, starting from
the last five years of the twentieth century, also on the strength
of cultural exchanges resulting from a renewed confrontation
with the international context, restoration in Romania took on
traits that bring it considerably closer to what is called “critical”
restoration (and to the recommendations contained in the Venice
Charter) – indications that were actually adopted, especially in the
context of restoring frescoes.
We are witnessing an attempt that, although it appears at
times poorly coordinated, is aimed at overcoming theoretical
directions considered non-current, in search of an operative line
structured on a method rigorous but at the same time open to
experimentation that has in fact resulted in a sort of “empiricism”
– a practice that only marginally finds interest in a solid role under
public law.
This is a phenomenon in some ways analogous to what led, in the
1990s, to formal experimentation efforts unthinkable until that
time, supported by the novel (and all too free) use of steel, glass,
and reinforced concrete, with the consequence of reducing the
intervention on the pre-existing element to an occasion for formal
exercise, as in the renovated headquarters of the National Council
of Architects in Bucharest (fig. 2); indeed, the same concern for
the distinctiveness of the intervention had already emerged
twenty years earlier (Criticos 2012, 192).
In these instances, rather than the outlining of a firm theoretical
arrangement, different articulations emerge, at times quite
interesting, but in most cases expressions of a direction in design,
a free proposal of imagination, deemed pre-eminent over the
restriction imposed by the need for conservation. At the same
time, however, there is no dearth of examples of interventions
that, while unconstrained by rigid dogmatisms, are attentive to
the historical/documentary values borne and conducted with
absolute respect for original matter, with the chief objective of
favouring the interpretation and reading of the work – while also
emphasizing its stratigraphic reading.
As Sergiu Nistor observes, “the historic buildings conservation
in Romania 50 years after adopting the Venice Charter is facing
significant pressure caused by globalisation and by the action
of the economic environment. Globalisation has replaced the
ideologisation of culture that occurred before 1989. In the context
of these challenges, one of the solutions consists in educating,
training and further training specialists” (Nistor, 2015).
In the last decades of the twentieth century, the country saw
an unresolved conflict between the traditional practice of
conservation and reconstruction, founded upon historical
research, and the not always controlled impetus towards renewal,
towards (“prudently” retrospective) historical selection, or
towards the desire to join together the antique and the new
originating from the rest of Europe – a framework that appears
highly conditioned by an objective dearth of the economic means
that, in most cases, make it possible at the work site to meet the
theoretical indications referred to in the design.
We are consequently witnessing illicit replacements of volumes,
the systematic alteration of surfaces, the renovation of colouring,
the replacement of ancient materials with others that are
industrially produced and lower in quality. These interventions
place, before the direct reading of the work (corroborated by
17
historical analysis), merely aesthetic considerations, aimed at
conserving, through purely mimetic interventions, the overall
unity, thereby determining an irreversible alteration of the
original.
The season that opened with the new millennium has seen
the birth of a broad dialogue with the stresses originating from
other countries; significant in this sense is the contribution by
the Romanian Șerban Cantacuzino to the drafting in 2000 of
the Charter of Krakow on the “Principles for conservation and
restoration of built heritage” (Relating to penetration in Romania,
during the twenty years thereafter, of the concept of historical
monument, and on the interventions undertaken in the country in
favour of safeguards of the built environment in order to prolong
the monument’s “physical” existence, cf. K. Kovacs, After the
restoration. Hypothetical evolutions of the concept of historical
monuments, ‘ARHITECTURA’, 6/2017-1/2018 (672-673), pp. 50-
55).
This theoretical reflection, while upholding the demands induced
by the inevitable strengthening the technological apparatus
of service to restoration and by the supervening need for a
more widespread use of the historic heritage (in that way
giving substance to the eminently cultural and identity-based
considerations of the attention to the work’s material continuity),
has all the same underscored the prejudice towards the result
of tradition as a limitation, versus an unacceptable cultural
globalization. Without a doubt contributing to a conservative
conscience in the country was the assumption, as a priority value,
of the bond generated between heritage and memory: “The
value and importance of historic buildings and protected areas
in the urban space are the preservers of collective memory. The
conservation of substance is the desirable approach regarding
the preservation of heritage buildings, as it guarantees longterm
 On the current page:
3. Biertan, fortified church (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2014).

4. Biertan, fortified church, the inte-

rior (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2014).

On the next page:

5. Bucharest, Sfântul Nicolae church
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2013).

6. Bucharest, Sfântul Nicolae church,

the interior (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2013).
18 19
durability and authenticity. The conservation of form improves
the symptoms of ‘ill’ historic buildings, without eliminating the
causes of degradation. A possible solution would be, on the one
hand, a complex approach, of substance, to conservation projects
and the prioritisation of interventions, aiming not only at solving
problems of an aesthetic nature, but firstly the issues that affect
the health and safety of the users and the structural stability”
(Tămășan 2019, 23).

Restoration in Romania. The current situation

The picture that has been outlined has cast light on a multitude of
approaches to conservation that, along with the albeit widespread
tendency towards recovery and restoration by analogy, indicates a
will at the same time to overcome the traditional, late nineteenth-
century theoretical arrangement, so as to take on a practice
descending from a careful, prior historical/critical reading that
favours the conservation of the work’s testimonial values. The
current landscape of restoration in Romania is one, then, that has
modes of conjugation that are quite different from one another,
than those elements functional to the structural conservation of 3, 4), and in Sfântul Nicolae, the Russian Church of Bucharest
and that ranges from the exercise of a reckless contemporary
the architectural construction, mention may be made of those in (figg. 5, 6), which has recently undergone a long and careful
form-shaping to a strictly conservative restoration. And it is this
the fortified church in Biertan in the Region of Transylvania (figg. maintenance work.
direction that emphasizes the exaltation of the monument’s
historical/testimonial value – sometimes with minimum
functional-type integrations, connected to the conservation of the BIERTAN. FORTIFIED CHURCH
materials or of the structures.
In the absence of critical judgment aimed at assessing the Rising in the centre of Biertan is one of Transylvania’s most imposing fortresses. In the sixteenth century, when the city became one of the leading
works of the past, every sign of the time is attributed the same centres of the Episcopate of Saxony, it became clear that it was necessary to enlarge the fourteenth-century church and to surround it with an impo-
importance; where strictly necessary, there is only “added” sing defensive system, built by erecting three masonry walls endowed with six defence towers and three bastions; access was gained via a stairway
wholly covered with wood. A typical example of late Gothic Saxon sacred architecture, the church was built between 1495 and 1516; the doorway
intervention, with a declaredly contemporary language with no
opposite the stairway presents Renaissance elements, and is carved with floral motifs.
“linkage” to the pre-existing element. The three-nave interior conserves an imposing central altar, decorated with 38 paintings with scenes from the life of the Madonna, and a Gothic wo-
Of the most significant interventions of “conservative” oden pulpit carved by Ulrich of Brașov; the walls were frescoed in the early sixteenth century.
restoration, which is to say without contemporary grafts other
 7. Drobeta - Turnu Severin, Turnul 9. Bucharest, Filipescu-Cesianu house
de apă (photo credit: Asociația pro- (photo credit: Primăria Căpitalei
Mehedinți site). Arhiva).

8. Gruşetu-Costeşti, Adormirea Mai-

cii Domnului church (photo credit:
BNA archive).

20 21
consolidation works done on the building involved the campanile, it was more of a land exchange than a sale) which, the following
BUCAREST, RUSSIAN CHURCH (SF. NICOLAE) and were performed between 2006 and 2008: the work consisted year, made it the home of the Civic Museum. However, the
The Church of St. Nicholas, designed by the architect V. A. Preobrazhensky, was built between 1905-1909 (but some sources date the work site back of strengthening the foundation structures and refurbishing the building’s decrepit conditions led the new ownership to use it for
to 1903), thanks to funds made available for this purpose to Bucharest’s Russian community by Tsar Nicholas II. It was subject to the authority of the exterior plaster with lime mortar; major works to consolidate the offices and storage – a condition that remained unchanged until
Church of the Patriarchate of Moscow until 1957; it later became a Romanian Orthodox parish church. foundation also became necessary, in addition to works to restore 2015.
It is presumably among the latest specimens of church construction built in accordance with the dictates of the Russian Revival art movement, a the deteriorated vertical connections. The church’s restoration, Over the course of time, the building has on the whole undergone
trend that was manifested, especially in the field of architecture, between the second half of the nineteenth century and the turn of the twentieth, carried out by the architects Aurel Botez and Iulian Cămui, was a series of interventions, at times inconsistent, due to the poor
and was expressed through a Romantic reference to the art of the origins. “Russian Revival” art includes the simultaneous presence of elements of completed in October 2012. maintenance it received, as well as the bombings during the
Byzantine style (highly rooted in the Russian religious tradition) and echoes of styles present in European architecture of that time, such as neoclas-
However, the most significant examples of conservation practice Second World War and the seismic events of 1977.
sicism, Roman Revival, and Art Nouveau; in particular, in Romania, the movement sustained the birth of the Romanian Revival style, characteristic,
in the city of Bucharest, of many early-century architectures. The outer walls in fair-faced brick are decorated with polychrome ceramic friezes with
in use in Romania are those involving two of the most interesting In consideration of this, the design, drawn up by the studio SC
motifs inspired by Russian folklore (with clear Art Nouveau influences) and mosaic frames around the windows. residences of the late-nineteenth-century upper bourgeoisie in CREDO Design srl (arch. eng. Aurora Târşoagă), took on structural
Due to the particular design of the plot where the church stands, while the altar, in accordance with tradition, faces east, the entrance is uncharacte- Bucharest: Casa Filipescu-Cesianu and Casa Mincu. consolidation as a priority need; this was done by cladding the
ristically placed at the corner. Casa Filipescu-Cesianu (fig. 9) takes its name from the attorney foundation beams and inserting reinforced concrete pillars into
The layout is an inscribed Greek cross, with the insertion of chapels; the hall is covered by a dome, topped by a tower set on four arches. Four smal- Constantin Cesianu, who in 1889 had purchased from Ianku the original brick walls and the consolidation of the wooden floor
ler towers, covered by the same number of onion domes, mark the corners of the nave. Philippescu two adjacent stately dwellings along Calea Victoriei, (fig. 10).
The interior decoration was done by the Russian painter Vasiliev, and, in the figurative sequences, corresponds with the traditional Orthodox figura- in an urban area marked by the presence of numerous stately On the façade, the best-conserved decorative elements were
tive canon. The carved and gilt iconostasis is the work of one of the most important representatives of the Russian Revival Movement, Viktor Mikhai- summer residences; three years later, the new owner tasked consolidated, while the others, after removing the prior
lovich Vazneţov (1848-1926).
the architect Leonida Negrescu with reconfiguring the two interventions with cement mortar, were replaced with copies
units by joining them into a single aristocratic residence, albeit made by moulding them on the original forms, with a casting
Other quite interesting examples of this direction are the “Water accommodate a tourism information point, an exhibition gallery, a without substantially modifying its original layout, as well as with of lime mortar and stone dust; resistance is ensured by a metal
Tower” of Drobeta and the small wooden church in Grusetu. museum dedicated to the Tower’s history, and a literary café. setting up a private garden there: the result was one of the most profile inserted into the frame (restorer: Dragoş Căpitănescu).
The “Turnul de apă” (fig. 7) is doubtlessly the building most Biserica “Adormirea Maicii Domnului” (Assumption of the Virgin interesting examples of architecture at the turn of the twentieth The intervention of recovering the original elements was then
emblematic of the city of Drobeta – Turnu Severin. Twenty-seven Mary Basilica) in Grusetu is a wooden church built in 1799-1801 century in Bucharest. extended to the doors and windows and to the gates and railings
metres tall, the tower was part of the city’s water supply network, by Anthony Bistrita in the village of Gruşetu-Costeşti, near Pietreni The spatial configuration of the two original residences is in wrought iron, reproducing the existing elements.
built in Medieval style between 1910 and 1913 by the engineers (fig. 8). The stone campanile, on the other hand was built – as not known; nor is their surface finishing. The albeit scant The interventions carried out on the interior underwent lesser
Elie Radu and Anghel Saligny; it served in that role until 1980, may be seen reading the inscription on the north wall – only documentation of Negrescu’s restoration, however, bears witness conditioning given the almost total lost of the original elements:
when the reinforced concrete tanks were emptied and the offices several decades later, in 1840. In 1937, the church was closed for to a complete revamping of the roof, “updated” in accordance the ceilings, like the floors, were done, rather, with the objective
and laboratories of the city’s public water distribution company worship, which contributed significantly to its decay. with the canons of the neoclassical repertoire very much in vogue of meeting the rigid requirements of the planned museum
were placed inside the tower. The monument is included in a programme to safeguard the at the time, and with unspecified “decorative interventions” on function.
In December 2010, the municipality of Drobeta Turnu Severin wooden churches present in Romania, financed by Ministerul the exterior surfaces. As to the roof, which has been totally lost, economic reasons led
initiated a major programme to restore the Tower, aimed at Culturii şi Patrimoniului Naţional prin Institutul Naţional de The ownership situation changed in 1939 when the building the designers to discard the possibility of using slate, as in the
developing a series of vertically arranged spaces designed to Patrimoniu (Ministry of Culture and of National Heritage). The first became owned by the Municipality of Bucharest (more precisely, original, in favour of galvanized sheet, shaped to highlight the
 Down: 10. Bucharest, Filipescu-
Cesianu house, consolidation of the
wooden floor (photo credit: ‘Arhi-
tectura’, 3, 2015).
Top left: 11. Bucharest, Ion Mincu
house (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2018).
Top right: 12. Bucharest, Ion Mincu
house, the interior (photo credit: Ste-
fano D’Avino, 2018).
22
rchitectural division of the façades.
The restoration carried by Șerban Sturdza on Casa Mincu (fig. 11),
a prized example of nineteenth-century residential architecture,
is without a doubt one of the most interesting interventions in
recent years.
Located in the central area of Bucharest, for more than twenty
years the building was the dwelling of famed architect Ion Mincu
(1852-1912), who had purchased it in the late nineteenth century
from Antonio Gaetano Burelli (1820-1896), a Romanian architect
of Italian origin, the presumed drafter of the original design, and
the first owner.
The methodological and conceptual novelties introduced by
Sturdza are considerable: “This is not the usual restoration that
now takes place in Romania – just change everything and then call
it ‘a restoration’. You should do things wherever they should be
done, and not the other way round. We progress slowly”. (Grosu
2012, 72).
It is a design, then, that privileged the direct, constant, and critical
reading of the work for the entire duration of the work site,
following an ontological path that, programmatically, placed the
prioritized safeguarding of the architectural palimpsest above
formal, overall completion. The interventions gradually involved
the ceilings, freed of the coating of white paint applied by the
previous renter, thus uncovering the original decoration (fig. 12).
The structural recovery works were also done in line with the
underlying methodological approach. “We assumed the idea that,
if during the following interventions some cracks appeared, we
would resume the work locally, because it was strategically vital to
do so”. (Grosu 2012, 71).
In reality, the restorers found no serious problems in the building’s
statics; rather, the decision was made to conserve the masonry
stratification, not covering the traces of bush-hammering done on
13. Densus, Sfântul Nicolae church
(photo credit: CrestinOrtodox.ro site).
14. Cisnădioara, Sfântul Mihail
church (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2014).
15. Cârţa, fortified monastery, aerial
view (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2014).
23
the original plaster on the occasion of the late-nineteenth-century
intervention, in order to preserve the signs of the previous phase:
“recalling a different manner of perceiving and the house interior,
typical of Bucharest, and which Mincu cancelled brutally in order
to impose a newer, somber, and more precise appearance, with
colours that could be found elsewhere in the house.”
Lastly, particular attention was reserved for plant, avoiding the
introduction of modern radiators, but instead carefully recovering
the existing fireplaces and increasing the system’s efficiency by
installing convectors with ventilators, positioned discretely above
the doors’ lintels.
The desire to bear (and, to a certain degree, the pride of bearing)
witness to the rural past, which has never left Romanian culture,
is also effectively expressed in the interventions to conserve
material documents of social and economic history, carried
out in the numerous museums of history and peasant tradition
disseminated in the country, often by adapting repurposed
structures; in this sense, there is broad play in the sought-after
continuity, in the uninterrupted transfer from one generation
to the next of technical skills and knowledge of pre-modern
materials that constitutes a feature particular to Romania. This
characteristic makes it possible to guarantee a certain continuity
in the maintenance of historic architecture, and particularly the
Church architecture quite widespread in the rural areas.
This rooting of a characterized operative practice in formal canons
linked to the modes of local tradition, in terms of construction
techniques and for the materials adopted, is clearly manifested in
the interventions conforming to an evidently restorative direction
carried out in certain regions of the country (Cluj, Potlogi) where
the influence of contemporary trends appears to have intervened
to a lesser degree than elsewhere.
 On the previous page:
16. Cârţa, fortified monastery, the
apse of the church (photo credit: Ste-
fano D’Avino, 2014).

24 25

CISNADIOARA, SF. MIHAIL

The fortified church of St. Michael is located in the vicinity of the town of Cisnădioara, not far from Sibiu, in the ancient Praepositura Cibiniensis, the
religious centre for all Saxons in Transylvania (“Ecclesia Theutonicorum Ultrasilvanorum”), as confirmed by a Bull issued by Pope Celestine II in 1191.
Its construction was begun around 1180 (although the initial written sources date to 1223) and the works, carried out by the community of German
origin that had settled in Transylvania in the twelfth century, continued for about twenty years.
The church is characterized by a semi-square, three-nave layout with a deep semicircular apse termination, covered by a groin vault with a slightly
lowered profile; the side naves, set apart from the central one by two arches per side resting on solid, stone pillars, also present a similar solution.
The door on the southern side of the choir conserves traces of the original wall painting.
The only significant restoration interventions (prior to the arrangement works conducted in the early 2000s) that there is evidence of date to 1778,
when, after a long period of abandonment, the roof was renovated.

“Integral conservation” accordance with more integral modes, as in the cases of the
Most likely to be traced to that deeply rooted attention is the church of Sfântul Nicolae in Densus (fig. 13), Sfântul Mihail in
occurrence, mainly in the country’s northern area, of numerous Cisnădiora (fig. 14), or the fortified monastery of Cârţa (figg. 15,
examples in which conservation appears articulated in 16).
DENSUS, SF. NICOLAE
The foundation date of the Sf. Nicolae church located in the vicinity of Densus in the county of Hunedoara, is uncertain: certain scholars believe it may be
an Early Christian church erected in the fourth-fifth century upon the remains of a second-century monument; others go so far as to move the foundation
date back about four centuries, when a pagan temple dedicated to Mars, later transformed into a Christian church, is said to have been erected.
Supporting this latter thesis is the placement of the altar, facing south and not to the east as commonly adopted in Christian “foundation” churches.
What is certain is that the building was constructed with great reliance on stone elements drawn from the nearby site of Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegetusa, the
ancient capital of the Roman province of Dacia, since Roman inscriptions, capitals, and funerary slabs originating from that site have clearly been inserted
into the masonry.
The layout is characterized by a square nave concluded by a deep, semicircular apse; inside, four pillars, obtained by superimposing elements of ancient
votive altars, support a tall bell tower. On the southern side of the altar, a semicylindrical diaconicon was subsequently added; the western pronaos and
the southern corridor of the nave, both datable to the fourteenth-fifteenth century and now in ruins, were built at a later time. The roof of the whole
building consists of superimposed stone slabs.
During the second half of the nineteenth century, the church fell into an advanced state of disrepair, to the point that its demolition was planned; it was
saved by the Austro-Hungarian authorities governing the Region at that time, who declared it a historic monument in 1870.
CÂRŢA, MONASTERY
A few tens of kilometres from Sibiu are the ruins of the Cistercian monastery of Cârța, one of the most ancient and significant monuments in Gothic
style in Transylvania.
Founded between 1205 and 1206 and built by King Andrew II of Hungary, the monastic complex played an important role in the political, economic,
and cultural life of Medieval Transylvania. The first environments were quite likely built in wood, as was customary among the Cistercians; only at a
later time was a stone oratory erected. Small in size and with massive walls, its foundations were unearthed during archaeological research in the
spring of 1927.
The monastic complex was built in two moments, over a timeframe from 1209 to late 1320, interrupted by the great Mongol invasion in 1241;
the main phase was most certainly the second one, marked by the entry into the work site (probably at the initiative of the General Chapter of
the Cistercian order) of an architect trained in the late Gothic climate, and the presence of a stonemasons’ yard which contributed significantly to
spreading Gothic art in the Carpathian region. This phase saw the dismantling of the ancient stone oratory, upon whose foundations the western
wing of the transept and, in part, the chorus with the polygonal apse were set; the construction of the abbey’s southern wing was to continue for
about two decades longer. In the early months of 1300, the monastery church had been completed; the construction of the bell tower had to wait
until the mid-fifteenth century.
Starting from the second half of the fifteenth century, the Cârța monastery gradually lost importance, until its final suppression ordered in 1474 by
King Matthias Corvinus; the reasons for this deterioration may be found in the changed political conditions in the area, and in the Order’s decline
during that historical period.
In the current state of affairs, the monastery has lost much of its original structures, and is presented as an enormous ruin. The space already
occupied by the church suffered the collapse of all the columns erected during the Romanesque age, with the exception of a surviving one placed to
the south; a large portion of masonry on the exterior walls has similarly yielded.
 17. Bonțida, Bánffy castle (photo
credit: Transylvania Trust site).
26
Also of considerable interest is the case of the Bánffy castle in
Bonțida (fig. 17). In 1990, the imposing building was declared a
historic monument. About a decade later, in 1999, due precisely
to its status as a ruin, the castle, at the request of the Transylvania
Trust, was included on the World Monuments Watch List. That
same year, Romania and Hungary signed a bilateral agreement
for the complex’s restoration and recovery; the works began the
following year when, with Romanian state funds, much of the
main building’s roof was rebuilt.
Since 2003, the castle has been under the protection of the
Transylvania Trust.
Starting that year, numerous works were undertaken: first the
main building was consolidated, and the completion of its roofing
structures was brought to a conclusion.
During the 2006-2007 period, the works were initiated for the
conservation of the stalls, as well as the restoration of the chapel
placed inside the main building, which serves today as a cultural
centre. During this same phase, two exhibition halls were set
up near the castle’s entrance doors, and the restoration of the
interior environments, including the installation of the necessary
plant, continued as well.
Subsequent years witnessed additional interventions to the
structures of the roof of the main building, as well as the repair
of the western bastion; the exterior restoration of the rear façade
was also undertaken, in addition to consolidating the masonry of
the buildings overlooking the courtyard.
The philosophy that guided restorations is condensed in the
words of Dorottya Makay, co-author of the project: “The leading
causes of decay were lack of maintenance, the absence of
protective elements, and the use of the building as a quarry
for materials. The objectives of the restoration of the Bánffy
Castle consist of the recovery and the structural improvement
of the entire complex, through the use of traditional materials
and techniques, or ones that are modern yet compatible with
them. [The restoration will be conducted through] detailed
reconstructions (where there are sufficient historical indications),
in such a way as to respect even the recent history of the whole;
the decision was thus made not to reconstruct the vaulted
roofs; (...) where these were reconstructed or completed,
particular attention was devoted to defining identifiable and
recreative geometries, but also to the precision of guaranteeing
the continuity of the masonry” (Csilia Hegedüs, Zsuzsanna Eke,
Dorottya Makay, Restaurarea și revitalizarea Castelului Bánffy din
Bonțida, jud. Cluj, ‘Revista Monumentelor Istorice,’ 2017, 1, pp.
92-103, 99; translation from Romanian by the author).
The works continued until 2018, when the most important
intervention in the interior environments was concluded: the
setting up of the lapidarium; these works were carried out in
accordance with the rigid principle of minimum intervention: in
particular, the very considerable attempt was made to simulate
the completion of the collapsed vaults, through the setting up of a
system of lighting devices (fig. 18).
18. Bonțida, Bánffy castle, the rein-
tegration of the vaults (photo credit:
Transylvania Trust site).
27
BONȚIDA, BÁNFFY CASTLE
The Bánffy castle is an architectural monument situated in Bonțida, in the vicinity of Cluj. In 1387, the Bonțida holding came into the possession of
the Hungarian Bánffy family of Losonc, following a donation made by Sigismund of Luxembourg to Dénes Losonci. In the mid-seventeenth century,
the holding was inherited by Dénes Bánffy II (1638-1674), governor of the county of Doboka and Kolozs, the brother-in-law and councillor of Prince
Michel I. The latter, between 1668 and 1674, promoted major fortification interventions on the building, surrounding it with a rectangular enclosure
strengthened at the corners with enormous circular towers; the castle was accessed via the eastern side of the fortification. The works were to
involve a considerable economic effort, and were to persist for quite a long time, even being continued after his death by his successor György
Bánffy.
After several decades of substantial abandonment, the holding was inherited in the eighteenth century by Dénes Bánffy IV, who, in 1747, initiated
the castle’s reconstruction in Baroque style, following the fashions learnt in the Court of Empress Maria Theresa, where he had sojourned until that
time. Between 1747 and 1751, the U-shaped Cour d’honneur was built on the eastern side of the Renaissance-era building; the riding school, the
stables, the carriage halls, and the servants’ quarters were located here.
The rigorous geometry determined by the castle’s park overlooking the Szamos river, complete with walkways, statues, and fountains designed
by the architect Johann Christian Erras, took part in defining an organic setting with the building’s Baroque forms. In the early nineteenth century,
the whole was transformed in Romantic mode, following the drawings of Sámuel Hermann and, later, in 1831, János László: the radial lanes and
topiaries were replaced by winding paths and copses, which created an overall effect of freely growing trees and plant life. Today, the park, due
to lack of maintenance, is in a state of abandonment, and most of its age-old trees were arbitrarily cut down. During the same phase, the castle’s
western wing was also modified.
In 1944, the castle was transformed into a field hospital. The German troops looted and devastated the castle, destroying the furnishings and library,
and vandalizing the precious portrait gallery that had been conserved there. Lastly, during the Communist regime, part of the building was used as a
cooperative farm, while the castle was consigned to irreversible decay.
References
Aurel Losonti, Cronica castelului medieval Banffy din Bontida, judetul Cluj, ‘Revista Monumentelor Istorice’, 1981, 1, pp. 67-82.
Ioana Rus, Câteva aspecte inedite din istoria Palatului Bánffy, Astázi Muzeul de Artá Cluj-Napoca, ‘Transsylvania Nostra’, 2011, pp. 44-55.
Hegedüs Csilla, David Baxter, Furu Árpád, The Bánffy Castle in Bonțida. Past, Present, Future, Cluj-Napoca, 2012.
Csilia Hegedüs, Zsuzsanna Eke, Dorottya Makay, Restaurarea și revitalizarea Castelului Bánffy din Bonțida, jud. Cluj, ‘Revista Monumentelor Istorice’,
2017, 1, pp. 92-103.
 19. Enisala (Tulcea county), fortress 22. Cetate, the church before resto-
(photo credit: RomaniaJournal.ro ration (photo credit: BNA archive).
site).
23. Cetate, the church after res-
20. Enisala fortress, the reintegration toration, 2013 (photo credit: BNA
of the defensive wall (photo credit: archive).
RomaniaJournal.ro site).
24. Mogoșoaia, Antiquarium (photo
21. The remains of the fortified city credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).
of Giurgiu (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2015).

28 29
The fortress of Enisala (fig. 19) is situated in a different
geographical location, in the county of Tulcea, a southeastern
region of the country.
Its modes of conservation place it, however, in the same vein
of complete preservation, without any intervention of formal
reconfiguration; the only exception is the partial consolidation
intervention carried out after 1991 by reintegrating of the
enclosing masonry work that had been damaged over time with
ashlars recovered from the collapse and installed undercut (fig.
20).
Absolutely worthy of interest is the recent restoration project,
which calls for developing an integrated urban park/fortress
system, as also done in Giurgiu, on another structure destined for
military control built in the Danube delta (fig. 21).

Reuse of the fragment
The question being posed by (and that we ourselves pose) by
ENISALA, FORTRESS Irina Popescu Criveanu (‘Arhitectura’ 4-5/2018) on the “utility [or
not], in the long term, of carrying out a restoration of an item,
The Enisala fortress was built between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in the area of a previous Geto-Dacian settlement, for the purpose of given the impossibility of extending [beyond a certain term] its
defence as well as control over river traffic towards the Black Sea (long the monopoly of Genoese merchants, who had operating bases in Hârşova, life when it is in use,” merits attention, since it takes the question
Chilia, and Likostomion, in the Danube delta).
to the concept of value – and the act is to be conditioned to the
Both the surrounding wall and the defence towers were built with small, limestone ashlars.
The entrance, set on the southern side, consisted of a very high opening with a double porch in front and a massive, pentagonal bastion for
attribution of value; the scholar, however, aims to overcome its
protection. “common” definition, explicitly suggesting a third “justification”:
During the reign of Mircea cel Bătrân (Mircea the Elder, 1355-1418), the citadel was subjected to Wallachian control, and was an integral part of “Although the item’s artistic (or historical) value at times does not
the Region’s defence system. In 1417, the fortress was conquered by the Ottoman Empire, thus becoming, like Giurgiu, the site of a Turkish military confirm its recovery, in fact [this intervention] re-inserts it into a
garrison. world of sentiment (of living memory); it might therefore be read
When, in the late fifteenth century, Enisala no longer responded to the Ottoman Empire’s strategic and economic interests, the fort was abandoned; in a new form, similar to the old one, which in its turn will become
this, paradoxically, was what saved it, because due to its precarious state of conservation, it was not deemed necessary to destroy it during the old over time and might, after a short while, be once again
Russo-Turkish Wars, as instead occurred for most of the fortifications of Northern Dobruja. transformed – while always maintaining, however, its original
References
identity.” (Popescu Criveanu 2018, 104-105; translation from
Valentin Feodorov, Safeguarding the Heraclea Citadel in Dobrogea, Romania, ‘ISCARSAH Newsletter, 2013, pp. 15-19.2017, 1, pp. 92-103.
Romanian by the author).
Although in a certain way this exercise lies outside the field of
restoration – being configured, rather, as a creative contribution
to the arrangement of the remains as a museum – undoubtedly
interesting, in its unique nature, is the intervention led by
Alexandra Afrasinei in a small, private chapel located near the city
of Cetate, in the Transylvanian district of Bistrița-Năsăud, an area
high in scenic value. Over the course of time, the small building,
originally rising as a smith’s workshop, suffered clear, structural
decay which led to the disappearance of the roof, of which only
some bearing beams are conserved, and to damage to part of the
masonry (fig. 22).
The project hinged on a profound functional reconversion aimed
at preserving more the “sense of place” than the architectural
character of the small construction. Its volumetric and spatial
redefinition was carried out highlighting the distinctive nature
of the contemporary insertions, distinguished from what was
preserved, underscored by the inclusion of a metal profile
 Top left: 25. Mogoșoaia, Antiquar-
ium, detail (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2015).
Down: 26. The interior of Văcărești
church before its demolition (private
archive).
Top right: 27. Mogoșoaia palace. The
remains of the Văcărești’s frescoes
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).
30
between the original masonry and the new reinforced concrete
roof (fig. 23). Bearing witness to the new function of religious
space is a cross-shaped crack made in the southern façade.
A somewhat similar philosophy governed the intervention carried
out in Mogoșoaia, working towards the turning the fragmented
architectural element into a museum, which is to say accentuating
its value as bearing witness; Lewis Munford counters this “utopia
of escape” with the “utopia of reconstruction that projects onto
the outside world a new vision of reality [because] avoiding
transformations does not on its own guarantee conservation.”
Between 2010 and 2014, in the vicinity of the palace, an
antiquarium (fig. 24) was built with the purpose of collecting
and conserving the architectural elements and the fragments of
frescoed vaults and walls that had escaped the destruction of
the Văcărești monastery (figg. 25, 26) by the orders of Nicolae
Ceaușescu in 1984, part of which was already “temporarily”
placed in the underground locations of the Mogoșoaia palace
where they may be seen to this day (fig. 27).
Beyond the laudable intention of bringing together the surviving
remains of one of Bucharest’s most important religious buildings,
the project shows a clear limit in the museum arrangement
incapable of fostering a proper rereading of the original space,
and not even partial one, as it may rather resemble a deposit
of architectural finds; no better fate was reserved for the
iconographic complex, for which, from several quarters, a re-
composition plan was raised without result. In brief, it is stressed
in this case that, in exchange for greater historical respect, any
opportunity to “favour the reading of the monument” is avoided.
Appearing to be somewhat similar is the objective that was
sought in the restoration of the frescoes that decorated the
church annexed to the Cotroceni Palace (biserica Adormirea
Maicii Domnului) in Bucharest [see below, in this same volume].
28. Bucharest, Cotroceni presidential
palace, the interior of Adormirea
Maicii Domnului church (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).
29. Bucharest, Cotroceni presidential
palace, the interior of Adormirea
Maicii Domnului church. The remains
of frescoes (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2015).
31
Here, in spite of the limits of the intervention’s size, due to the
considerable fragmentation of what was conserved after the
church was demolished in 1984 (although it did not collapse, the
church had suffered clear damage in the 1977 earthquake), the
relocation of the fragments that were conserved may certainly
be appreciated; at the same time, it bears pointing out that the
church’s restoration lacks unitariness, since the remains of the
original plaster were inserted into a context lacking any sign or
trace of reference to the scheme of arrangement of the depictions
(figg. 28, 29).
Value as testimony
The restoration of the castle of Neamt (fig. 30) clearly shows that
recognizing the principle of “testimony” has pre-eminence over
the other values.
Declared a “Historic Monument” in 1866, a century later (1968-
1972) the fortress was subjected to a major restoration campaign
carried out by Stefan Bals with the objective of conserving what
existed rather than reconstructing the collapsed masonry – a
decidedly innovative line of behaviour for the period.
More recently, thanks to the European funds delivered in 2007,
the fortress was the object of “restoration and renovation” works
led by the architects Cornelius Constantin and Gheorghe Sion:
completed in 2009, the project on that occasion privileged the
site’s “practicability” (objective reached through the development
of a protected path, partially elevated, and the installation of a
dedicated lighting system); this, on the other hand, penalized
its legibility with debatable interventions completing of the
incomplete wall fixtures which do not come to suggest a formal
interpretation and at the same time appear all too extensive (fig.
31); at the same time, the decision to give up completing the
masonry crests is undoubtedly appreciated.
 30. Neamt castle, aerial view (photo 32. Cârţa, fortified church, the inte-
credit: WordPress.com site). rior (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2014).
31. Neamt castle, reconstruction
of the walls (photo credit: Stefano 33. Cârţa, fortified church, the sur-
D’Avino, 2014). rounding wall (photo credit: BNA
archive).

32 33

The accentuation of the value induced by the stratification of
historical signs, and the choice of implementing a diachronic
interpretation of the monument’s evolution over the
determination – more often followed (particularly in this
geographic area) – to privilege a specific historical phase,
characterizes the restoration of the fortified church of Cârţa (fig.
32).
The intervention (architects Miklós Köllő and Zsolt Tövissi, 2014),
was preceded by a careful study of the construction techniques,
by a campaign of archaeological digs and masonry stratigraphies,
and by in-depth archival research.
The design was dealt with as the critical interpretation of a text
with the objective of preserving as much information as possible
while reducing to a minimum the impact of contemporary
interventions, and of permitting a non-partial reading of the
monument’s history: appreciable in this sense is the choice
of making legible the traces of frescoed plaster discovered in
the apsidal conch. Likewise, attention of this kind does not
appear to have been reserved for the items, albeit present,
bearing witness to the nineteenth-century intervention that had
profoundly changed the original layout, which it seems cannot be
immediately read.
On the whole, the restoration project thus proves to be free
of dogma and carried out, rather, along the path of constant
attention to the material, continuously reviewing its modes
of conservation; proof of this lies in the intervention on the
perimeter wall, carefully patched rather than reconstructed (fig.
33).

CÂRŢA, FORTIFIED CHURCH

NEAMT, CASTLE
The fortress of Neamt was built during the reign of Petru Musat (1374-1391) in the context of the project to define the boundaries of the Principality
of Moldavia.
The period of its maximum development corresponds to the reign of Ştefan cel Mare (Stephen the Great), 1457-1504, who, seeing the fundamental
role played by an efficient system of fortifications, in 1476 promoted, in Neamt, a series of interventions aimed at increasing its defensive
capabilities: he thus built four bastions on the outer wall and constructed an arch-shaped access bridge supported by 11 stone piers.
The fortress’s role was considerably downsized only starting from the second half of the sixteenth century when the defensive needs no longer
existed. After it was transformed into a monastery for a short period of time (Vasile Lupu, 1646), Prince Mihai Racovita ordered its destruction in
1717. The plundering of the ruins went on for a century, until 1834, when the prohibition against using its materials for new constructions was laid
down.
Devoted to the Assumption of the Virgin (“Nagyboldogasszony”), the church belongs to a Cistercian monastic complex; rising at the top of a hill, it
is surrounded by a tall, defensive wall in keeping with the model introduced by the Saxon populations that settled in Transylvania in the thirteenth
century. Its construction may be dated to the fifteenth century, as attested by an inscription inserted into the church’s wall, bearing the date 1444.
In the second half of the eighteenth century, the church underwent a profound Baroque transformation of the hall, which was enlarged and marked
by a new, flat ceiling decorated with simple geometric stucco compositions, in place of the original groin vault with a pointed profile; the pulpit is
also quite simple, decorated with geometric and floral motifs in neoclassical style. On the other hand, the Baroque forms of the two altars refer
clearly to the second half of the eighteenth century. Also belonging to this phase is the demolition of the sacristy on the northern side of the chorus,
and of the chapel on the southern side, as well as the construction of the buttresses of the naves. On the other hand, the presbytery bears clear
Gothic traits, underscored by the presence of the original ribs in the polygonal apsidal conch. The few available resources did not make it possible to
intervene at the same time on the campanile, which was increased in height a first time in the late eighteenth century, and again in 1846. In 1863, a
fire bought such damage to its structure as to require interventions that went on for several years. The high altar, from the early twentieth century,
refers to the neo-Gothic models that were so widespread in the Saxon environment during that time.
 34. Ciumeşti, reformist church be-
fore restoration (photo credit: BNA
archive).
34
This same type of intervention (“didactic” restoration) might also
be held to include the reconfiguration of the reformist church of
Ciumeşti (fig. 34), for which action was taken in accordance with a
rigidly philological hypothesis.
Between 2012 and 2013, a careful campaign of archaeological
digs and direct studies on the building were performed, leading to
the identification, beneath a layer of cement coating, of important
elements (windows, doors, arches, fragments of wall paintings,
tombs, etc.) from the Medieval and Gothic age that contributed
significantly to outlining the monument’s main construction
phases.
Research also made it possible to bring to light a considerable
number of burials that may be dated to a timeframe from the
thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries; unfortunately, the more
ancient ones appeared partially or totally destroyed by the ones
that came later, placed on top, or reused in more recent times
(eighteenth-nineteenth centuries).
The restoration design drafted by the architect Tamás Emődi
(with the collaboration of the engineers Dorottya Makay, Boróka
Sándor, and Boglárka Bordás) and carried out between 2012
and 2014, took full account of these documentary elements,
translating them into the intervention’s “track”: the objective
of the reconfiguration of the Medieval volumetry (taken as the
original facies, and therefore of primary value) was pursued
by eliminating from the exterior walls the layer of plaster that
impeded the reading of the material text and the restoration of
the crypts discovered during the archaeological reconnaissance; a
decisive element in exalting the palimpsest was the relocation of
the bell tower (erected in 1831) twelve metres forward, with the
purpose of emphasizing the monumental Romanesque door on
the western façade.
Lastly, the same phase saw the completion of an intervention to
reconnect the masonry passages damaged by the seismic event of
1834 (fig. 35).
35. Ciumeşti, reformist church after
restoration (photo credit: BNA ar-
chive).
35
CIUMEŞTI, REFORMIST CHURCH
The foundation of the reformed church of Ciumești, although mentioned for the first time in a 1298 document, dates to the period of transition
from Romanesque to early Gothic – to be circumscribed within the time frame from the late thirteenth to the early fourteenth centuries – which
saw the simultaneous adoption of modern and archaic elements belonging to distinct types and styles.
Today, the church presents a rectangular nave concluded by a polygonal apse; the data emerging from the archaeological reconnaissance, on the
other hand, lead to believe that the naves were originally two in number, or that there was a porch flanking the church. It has two accesses: the
western door topped by a semicircular brick cornice, and the southern one, of which only the Gothic arrangement is conserved.
There are no certain data on the system of vaults that presumably covered the choir in its original state; it is likely that during the modern
interventions aimed at building the current flat ceiling, even the trace of it was deleted. It is, however, certain that the triumphal arch, at least in its
current, fully rounded form, may be dated to a modern-day construction phase.
For the entire perimeter, the upper portion of the masonry apparatus was affected by a large-scale reconstruction work.
References
Tamás Emödi, Péter Levente Szöcs, Despre biserica medieval din Ciumeşti, in Tibor Kollar (ed.), Artă şi eredintă în regiunea Tiser Superioare, vol. III,
Satu Mare 2014, pp. 283-294

36
It bears emphasizing that this operative line, unrestrained by any
respect for the spatial, formal, and material dimension of the
original, and in fact consistent with a historical and critical reading
of the pre-existing structure, has over time produced numerous
interventions aimed at a reconfiguration of the architecture,
perceived as an absolute necessity to “correct” interventions
already made over history and deemed improper; thus, recently,
in the palace of Mogoşoaia, the “Venetian” chimneys built around
1920 by the Italian architect Domenico Rupolo (fig. 36) were
eliminated.
Another illustrative case was the restoration of the biserica Colţea
basilica in Bucharest (fig. 37). The recovery of the church began in
1998 when the first consolidation works were performed on the
perimeter masonry and on the tower over the nave, where large
portions of the original frescoes by the master Mutu were also
discovered. The second major restoration campaign was carried
out between 2001 and 2005, when the church was subject to
restoration and consolidation interventions (architect Costanza
Carp, with the collaboration of the engineer Laurentiu-Tudor
Spoială) during which the drum above the pronaos was rebuilt in
wood in place of masonry; On the same occasion, the frescoed
walls were also restored (fig. 38).
On the previous page:
Top left: 36. Mogoşoaia palace,
the ‘venetian’ fireplaces (private
archive).
Top right: 37. Bucharest, Colţea
church (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2018).
Down: 38. Bucharest, Colţea church,
the interior (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2018).
37
BUCHAREST, BIS. COLTEA
In the place where the “biserica Colţea” now, rises a previous holy building once stood, built in wood, presumably dating to the mid-seventeenth
century. Its foundations emerged along the southern wall during the excavation campaign led by George Mănucu - Adamesteanu between 2006
and 2008.
The church is the only material trace bearing witness to the presence in that area of the monastery/hospital founded by Mihail Cantacuzino
between 1695 and 1698; in addition to biserica Coltea, the vast complex included a hospital, a pharmacy, the bishop’s residence, and other
environments with different uses.
It also included a tall lookout tower, partially destroyed by an 1802 earthquake and definitively demolished in 1888 because it was deemed at risk
of collapse (in spite of the restoration carried out in 1843).
The church presents stylistic elements that combine Byzantine architecture, Romanian popular art, and influences from the late Italian
Renaissance.
The church layout is pattered after the models of the time: a set of three arches on twisting columns distinguishes the semi-square narthex from a
three-lobed hall, topped by a dome on a drum.
The large portico in front has five arches on the front and two on the sides; the columns that held up the arches were carved with floral and
zoomorphic motifs.
The considerable cycles of frescoes that decorate the hall and pronaos may be attributed to Pârvu Mutu, considered the foremost representative
of Brâncoveanu, except for the paintings present in the hall, the late-nineteenth-century work of Gheorghe Tăttărescu.
The church’s current appearance is inevitably affected by the many interventions the building has seen over the past three centuries.
In February 1739, the church, like much of the entire monastic complex, suffered enormous damage caused by a fire that harmed the interior
frescoes and completely destroyed the roof, which was immediately made the object of a reconstruction process.
In 1770 Necula Măinescu, the monastery’s rector, added the small porch in front of the hall, modelled after the church of the monastery in Hurezi.
The seismic events that struck Romania during the first half of the nineteenth century brought about the collapse of much of the monastery,
which was rebuilt under the guidance of Dutch architect Joseph Schiffler between 1867 and 1888. But in 1841, a new phase in the works on the
church was begun; these works considerably modified its appearance, since the design, entrusted to the architect Heinrich Feiser, did not include
the reconstruction of the tower-campanile, originally placed on the narthex, which had collapsed following seismic events; this element was then
to be carried out only between 1950 and 1955 when the church, already stricken by bombing in 1944 (and partially consolidated in 1949), was
restored by Horia Teodoru.
Following the earthquake of 4 March 1977, the church was substantially abandoned, and later closed for good in 1986.
References
Gheorghe Mănucu-Adameșteanu, Raport de cercetare arheologică, Biserica Sfinții Trei Ierarhi Colțea, in Cronica Cercetărilor arheologice din
Romania, campania 2006, București, Institutul de Memorie Culturală, București, 2007.
Simona Patrascu, Teodora Poiata, The conservation of the exterior mural paintings of Coltea church: a minimal intervention approach to aesthetic
presentation, ‘e_conservation’, 8, 2009, pp. 63-79.

38
Philology and restorations
Since the operative line in keeping with the revision of the
architectural text on a philological basis cannot be said to have
been unanimously adopted in Romania, it bears pointing out
that a similar practice has all the same, in some cases, found a
purpose in the desire to recover an architectural practice free of
the conditionings imposed by a “State art” manifested in the early
1980s, and in the consequent perceived need to reduce those
architectures to their pristine state, such as, for example, the
National Theatre Bucharest (fig. 39).
Built in 1964, in Ceaușescu’s time (1983) the Theatre had been
subject to a “formal revision” and then brought back to the facies
closest to the original after complex works that went on from
2010 to 2014.
Far more common were the restoration interventions performed
in accordance with the most common directions of reconstruction
by analogy; this practice, in favouring the modes and techniques
of construction tradition, exalts the monument’s aesthetic value,
often de-historicized, in a perspective of historical fabrication.
An emblematic case was the restoration of the church dedicated
to Saints Constantine and Helen (biserica Sfinții Constantin și
Elena) in Targoviste (figg. 40, 41).
The conditions of disrepair that the church was in prior to
restoration are documented by Oliviu Boldura and Anca Dina
in an article published in 2009: “Analyzing the current state of
conservation, an advanced state of degradation of the masonry
is observed. Instead of the nave towers there is a large opening
covered only by wood boards through which rainfall had
penetrated into the interior while the roof was damaged or
missing.
Network of cracks are highly branched, crossing walls on vertical
or oblique routes, marking in particular the openings of the walls.
In some areas fissures meet displacements of up to several tens
of centimeters in width. (...)
The displacement of the masonry has obviously contributed to
the monument’s loss of stability. (...) Humidity associated with
freezethaw cycles and development of vegetation and biological
agents on the monument or in its immediate proximity were
decisive factors for the monument condition. (...) The main
factor that contributed to the current state of conservation is
the abandonment of the monument for a long period. (...) An
important degradation factor [of the mural paintings] is moisture
that induced salts evolution and crystallization on the surface of
the color layer, forming micro-gaps at the bottom of the walls”
(Boldura, Dina 2009, 71-73).
In 2009, the restoration works led by the architect Sorin Minghiat
On the previous page:
39. Bucharest, National Theater
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2016).
40. Targoviste, Sfinții Constantin și
Elena (photo credit: BNA archive).
On the current page:
41. Targoviste, Sfinții Constantin și
Elena, the interior before the restora-
tion (photo credit: BNA archive).
39
(with the collaboration of Corina Lucecu, Dan Stamate, and
Bogdan Udrescu and Eugen Sabo) began.
Completed in 2012, the intervention was guided by the traces
of the documentary results taken from research and historical
studies, and aimed at restoring the original image.
Consequently, upon discovering traces of the two lost
seventeenth-century bell towers in the attic, the bell tower
formerly placed upon the pronaos was reconstructed, albeit while
not adopting the original materials, but building them in plastered
wood, with the bearing structure in metal; the adopted solution
also made it possible to insert an air conditioning system between
the exterior and interior parts of the small bell towers.
The tower topping the spherical conch of the naos had already
been reconstructed in 2007.
The objective of the restoration of the original forms also guided
the reconstruction of the porch in front (smaller than the original,
dating to 1753), supported by two columns imitating the original
ones discovered inserted into the façade masonry, as well as the
renovation of the roof, done by replacing the damaged portions
of the wooden carpentry with other, perfectly similar ones, and
– in keeping with tradition – lining the roof cladding with copper
sheets.
The solid wood door was replicated on the model provided by a
photographic image from 1910.
The second aspect dealt with in the restoration is represented by
the consolidation of the structures.
In this case as well, formal completeness prevailed over respect
for the original material: the decayed wooden beams originally
placed at the base of the structure were replaced with ring
beams in reinforced concrete, thus showing, for the architectural
elements not open to view, that the theoretical assumption of
renovation by analogy was far less unconditional.
 43. Oradea, Greek Catholic Episcopal 42. Oradea, Greek Catholic Episcopal
Palace. The building after the 2018 Palace (photo credit: Oradea Herit-
fire (photo credit: Libertadea site). age site).

40 41

TARGOVISTE, BISERICA SFINȚII CONSTANTIN ȘI ELENA

The church was founded in 1650 by Matei Basarab, who dedicated it to St. Nicholas; the dedication to Saints Constantine and Helen was imposed
only in 1698, under the reign of Costantin Brâncoveanu.
The typological scheme is that typical of the churches built in the eighteenth century in the region of Dâmboviţa (other examples are the church of
Săcuieni, 1655, and the church of Bărbuleţu, 1662): it has a square pronaos covered by a dome, rendered distinct from the naos (also domed) by
three round arches held up by octagonal-section pillars; the semicircular apse is accessed through a precious iconostasis.
The exterior is characterized by oblique buttresses at the sides of the façade; a bell tower tops the dome of the pronaos (some documents support
the hypotheses that originally it was the only one) while a second rises on the naos.
Over the course of history, the church was affected by numerous events: set on fire by Turkish troops in 1737, it was repaired in 1753 by Jupan
Vasalache Frumuşica, who was also responsible for the construction of the small porch in front.
The building also suffered grave damage due to the seismic events that affected the territory of Târgovişte in 1802.
Transformed into a mosque in 1821, in 1845 it had to be abandoned due to the damage caused by a violent fire. The state of conservation was
so precarious that numerous figures from that time, including Stefan Bals, Horia Teodoru, and George Enescu, signed an appeal for the church’s
restoration to be carried out. In the early twentieth century, after partial interventions, the church was again reopened for worship, although the
bell tower, which collapsed in the 1845 fire, was not rebuilt.
References
Oliviu Boldura, Anca Dina, Târgoviste, monuments at risk : the Holy Emperors Constantine and Helen Church, ‘e-conservation’, 10, 2009, pp. 68-80.

Not conceptually distant from this were the interventions of
reintegration on a stylistic basis, based upon a precise formal
mimesis, the heritage of those academic directions towards
restoration by analogy that enjoyed great fortune in the country
in the second half of the twentieth century, and that
reinterpreted the spatial qualities of the pre-existing elements in
order to translate them into a “new identity.”
Before the intervention carried out in 2006 by the Italian
architect Giorgio Domenici, the Episcopal palace of Oradea (fig.
42) was completely abandoned and presented a quite serious
state of material decay; the roof structure, consisting of a complex
system of wooden trusses, partially thrusting against
the perimeter walls, was in a particularly worrisome state of
decay.
The project was outlined taking account of the need both for
a philological reading of the original architectural, typological,
and stylistic characteristics, and for adaptation to the planned ORADEA, EPISCOPAL PALACE
functions; this is in addition to the primary requirement of
improving the building’s seismic performance. The Palace is a neoclassical work by the architect Coloman Rimonoczi di Oradea. Dating to the years 1909-1910, it is presented today virtually intact
On August 25, 2018 the building was almost completely destroyed in its original typology – only partially compromised by certain modest construction accretions and distributive modifications.
Until 1948, the building was home to the Greek Catholic Episcopate; after that date, it housed the Regional Library. During this period, the palace
by a fire that caused the collapse of the roofs and wooden floors
was subjected to no maintenance; moreover, all the lofts suffered from decidedly high overloading.
and seriously damaged the perimeter walls (fig. 43).
 44. Potlogi, Brâncoveanu Palace, 46. Bucharest, Cotroceni presidential
before the restoration (photo credit: palace, Adormirea Maicii Domnu-
Stefano D’Avino, 2014). lui church (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2015).
45. Potlogi, Brâncoveanu Palace,
after the restoration (photo credit:
Stefano D’Avino, 2019).

42 43
The same line of behaviour was followed in the case of the
debatable restoration of Brâncoveanu Palace in Potlogi (fig. 44).
By the early twentieth century, the palace had become a ruin: of The church dedicated to the Virgin Mary that rises in one of the in May 2008. The works were finally completed only a year later,
the original building, only a portion of the perimeter walls was courtyards of the presidential palace of Cotroceni, Bucharest (fig. in line with the planned “faithful reconstruction” restoration
conserved. Recovery works began in 1954. These works, however, 46) was also subject to a large-scale reconstruction intervention project.
were interrupted in 1979 without even the roof renovation being on an analogical basis. Also significantly contributing to the sacred building’s “revival”
completed; not even the Ministry of Culture, which came on the In July of 2003, upon completing an archaeological excavation was the recovery of the liturgical furnishings, formerly housed
scene in 1989, could cause the works undertaken 35 years earlier campaign that brought the ancient foundations back to light, (since 1977) in the National Museum of Art of Romania, as well as
to be completed. works began to rebuild the church, of which no appreciable the putting back in place of the portions of frescoes that had been
The building has a rectangular layout, and is arranged on three trace had remained; in the spring of 2004, after having erected removed from the church’s walls prior to its demolition, in 1984
levels. The ground floor consists of three main rooms and two exclusively a portion of it, limited to the narthex and the porch, – a solution that (as mentioned before), despite the clear intent,
service rooms. On the first storey, accessed through a small loggia the works were interrupted all the same, and were resumed only appears actually to have been rather “alienating.”
placed to the south, is the prince’s apartment, and his consort’s,
divided by a shared environment with a northern loggia. The
BUCHAREST. BIS. PALATULUI COTROCENI
rooms are covered by ceilings with slightly lowered vaults, and are
decorated with plaster friezes depicting floral motifs; the original The construction of the monastic complex of Cotroceni was promoted between 1679 and 1682 by the prince Şerban Cantacuzino: inside the
wall paintings, some trace of which remains, were totally lost. In 2011, the complex’s restoration began, aimed at regenerating masonry enclosure wall was the church, the campanile, and the lord’s dwelling, as well as some service buildings.
On the lower storey is a cellar covered by four spherical conches. its original image: the works involved mainly the plastered The church, in Brancoveanu style, like the one already founded by him near Curtea de Arges, bore the double dedication “Adormirea Maicii
On the exterior, the palace is plastered and presents a stucco interior and exterior surfaces, of which, unfortunately, all material Domnului” and ‘Sfinții Serghie și Vah.” Over the centuries, the church was involved in numerous events (military occupations, earthquakes, and
decoration, similar to that on the interiors, which, prior to the documentation that might help interpret the historic events fires) that brought about considerable transformations. In particular, the earthquake of October 1802 brought disastrous consequences for all the
monastery’s buildings; in fact, in consideration of the damage that had been suffered, the church was subjected to thorough restoration, concluded
recent restorations, was quite fragmented. has been erased (fig. 45). On the other hand, furnishing the
in 1806, during which it received a renovated iconography. Some decades later, on the occasion of the revolutionary events of 1848, the monastic
On the complex’s eastern wing, in a separate courtyard, is the residence’s environments with authentic items from the National complex was occupied by Turkish troops who damaged the church.
church dedicated to Sfantul Dumitru, founded by Costantin Heritage Museum was a welcome choice. The works were In 1948, after the abdication of King Michael, the Cotroceni palace was included among the state properties, while the church was closed for
Brâncoveanu in 1683. concluded in November 2015. worship. Gravely stricken by the earthquake of March 1977, the church was initially included in the project for the restoration of the entire complex;
instead, in 1984, the authorities assessed the church as “incompatible” with the monumental setting, ordering its demolition.
References
POTLOGI, BRANCOVEANU PALACE Șerban Cantacuzino, Reconstruction in Bucharest and its consequences for the architectural heritage, ‘Icomos Information’, 2, 1987, pp. 9-18.
The palace was built by Constantin Brâncoveanu in 1698 in Potlogi, along the road linking Bucharest to Târgovişte and Craiova, and it belonged to an L. Anania, C. Luminea, L. Melinte, A.N. Prosan, L. Stoica, N. Ionescu-Ghinea, Bisericile osândite de Ceauseşcu. Bucureşti 1977-1989, Bucureşti, 1995
architectural complex that was to be inherited by his son; however, after his death in Istanbul on 15 August 1714, the Turks occupied and devastated Istoria Cotrocenilor in documente (secolele XVII-XX), Muzeul Național Cotroceni, Bucureşti, 2001.
the palace. Andreia Cristina Iana, Biserica fostei Mãnãstiri Cotroceni. Reconstrucția, un puzzle, București, 2014.
A partial recovery of the palace was carried out only a century later by the command of the Russian Army, which established its headquarters there Dan Moanu, The possibility and failure of reconstruction: two case studies of Văcăreşti and Cotroceni, ‘Caiete ARA arhitectura, restaurare,
in 1848. arheologie’, 9, 2018, pp. 175-195.

44
It appears clear that these examples show a decided deviation
from the more current historical and critical positions towards
recovery, a drift sustained by the adoption of approved
linguistic codes drawn for the most part from tradition. This
is a theoretical position, that of the “revival” of architecture,
towards which an appreciable consideration was moreover
formulated that, although it does not fully justify the identified
solution, doubtlessly bares witness to the extent to which an
open debate on the discipline is in progress: “In spite of opposing
opinions, rebuilding a cultural heritage item that has (almost)
been completely lost is no longer as strongly condemned as one
generation ago. One argument in favour of this change in attitude
is (among others) the fact that all the types of interventions
meant to implement the preservation of historical monuments
are nothing else but (the only) construction gestures able to
extend their life or even to breathe a new life into them. As a
consequence, reconstruction would basically not be that different
from conservation”. (Derer, 2016)
Old and new
However, the complex Romanian framework also includes
integrative interventions that appear to show lesser trust in the
effectiveness of a reconstruction process legitimated exclusively
by adhesion to a preventive process of typological and formal
analysis of the monument. These restorations, while emphasizing
the importance of the originality (material before formal) of the
work, do not appear characterized by the will to instil an open
dialogue with the pre-existing element, which is in fact considered
fully subjected to the figurative and spatial logic of the new
intervention. These are restorations marked by the adoption
of a language that is intentionally different from and dissonant
with the fragmented item which, in fact, impedes any integration
between new and old; intervention in these cases appears rather
as a pretext, in which the signs of the contemporary overlap:
extraneous to and in fact in conflict with the ancient language.
The restoration intervention, maintain Ileana Crețu and Mihai
Lupu (‘Caiete restaurării’, 2015), may arrive at “altering the
functionality, the form, or the initial artistic composition,
transforming the item into a set of precious fragments,
understood to conserve the parts [now unbound to one another],
exclusively for sentimental, functional, or economic reasons. The
application of the principles primum non nocere and minimum
intervention [appears to suggest] a purely “virtual” recovery of the
image, without involving the original form, [and therefore] while
renouncing additions or transformations (…); any integration or
modification [would in fact appear] to structurally influence the
part, destabilizing it, and risking the loss of information about
the work, the working / repair techniques, and the materials.
[However], the choice of the best solution depends on the state
of conservation, on the available technology, and above all on
the restorer’s sensitivity in adapting the principles to the specific
features of the work” (Crețu, Lupu 2015, 87-88; translation
from Romanian by the author). Moreover, in many cases, it is
not a matter of architectural updating, but “continuation” of an
evolutionary process of the architectural work, not understood
as a stable entity (and therefore one subject to a process of
contextual critical interpretation) but, rather, willing to receive
continuous insertions and modifications [“synchronous editing”].
Of the first interventions carried out in Romania for distinctive
integration of parts, mention must certainly be made of the one
carried out on Curtea Domnească in Târgovişte (fig. 47) starting in
1961, where a programme was promoted to recover some of the
city’s most significant monuments for tourism purposes.
Subsequently, during the period between 2008 and 2011, a
47. Târgovişte, the Curtea
Domnească before the restoration
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2009).
48. Târgovişte, the Curtea
Domnească after the restoration
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2014).
45
European project was launched for the rehabilitation of Curtea;
the conservation and restoration works particularly involved: the
ruins of the Royal Chapel, the Chindia Tower, and the Sfânta Vineri
(or Sf. Petca) and Biserica Mare Domnească churches.
The most considerable intervention consisted of the construction,
in plastic material, of the porch connecting the tower/campanile
with the environments placed at the complex’s western
end (fig. 48). Of the Royal Chapel, only the perimeter walls
remain, conserved with a careful retipping work, whose only
exceptionable aspect consists of the nonchalant use of cement
mortar instead of a lime-based one (fig. 49).
The tower is the result of a large-scale renovation, carried out in
the mid-twentieth century, of a structure dating to the fifteenth
century; 27 metres tall, it consists of a pyramid-shaped stone base
topped by a cylindrical body in brick, with an external diameter
of nine metres. It is arranged on three levels, accessed by a
spiral staircase with wooden steps. Here, the intervention was
aimed, rather, at the functional aspects, dealt with by replacing
the decayed elements of the vertical connection system. The
intervention that erased all traces of time from the surfaces was
also doubtlessly improper. As for the Sfânta Vineri church, and for
the remains of the Royal Chapel, in this case as well, since these
are ruins, interest was more in conserving what had survived over
time rather than in attempting a formal recovery process; the
result is therefore more deficient from the aspect of the “reading”
of the work than in the conservation of its material.
Lastly, the interventions conducted at the biserica Mare
Domnească church most likely constitute the paradigm of the
direction maintained in the restoration of the Curtea architectural
complex, marked by an acritical attitude aimed primarily, if not
exclusively, at guaranteeing the monument’s material survival
using “extraneous” insertions.
 On the current page:
49. Târgovişte, Curtea Domnească,
detail of the masonry (photo credit:
Stefano D’Avino, 2014).

On the next page:

50. Bucharest, headquarters of the
National Council of Architects (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).

51. Bucharest, headquarters of the

National Council of Architects, detail
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2017).

52. Bucharest, headquarters of the

46 National Council of Architects, detail 47
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2017).

Another intervention that emblematically represents this

direction is certainly the design for the headquarters of the
TÂRGOVIŞTE, CURTEA DOMNEASCĂ Architects’ Union of Romania (fig. 50), built by recovering the
remains of a building at the centre of Bucharest (Păucescu house),
The construction of the first nucleus of Curtea Domnească was begun around 1400 by Mircea cel Bătrân (Mircea the Elder) and completed four not far from Crețulescu, designed in French Renaissance style in
decades later by Vlad Ţepeş. Of the original layout, only the lower-level environments are conserved today. Access to the building was on the
the late nineteenth century. In the period leading up to the First
northern side. Most likely, the ground floor housed the hall for ceremonies and the hall for the Council (both symbolically situated on the eastern
World War, the palace became home to the Austro-Hungarian
side), but also some rooms used as private residence.
Petru II Cercel, voivode of Wallachia from 1583 to 1585, implemented a large-scale campaign for the restoration of the fifteenth-century palace, Embassy. On 23 December 1989, during the agitated phases of
while introducing architectural and decorative elements influenced by the Western Renaissance. He also promoted the construction, on the the revolution against the Ceaușescu regime, the building was
southern side, of a new building, larger in size and adjacent to the first; linkage between the two buildings was guaranteed by enlarging some burnt and destroyed by the Romanian Army.
environments in the basement. The new building housed the Prince’s Chancery and numerous service environments accessed via an exterior In 2003, after more than a decade of abandonment, a steel
staircase placed on the western façade. and glass tower was inserted, with no apparent continuity, into
The final phase of development of the ancient residence of the Wallachian sovereigns corresponds to the reign of Constantin Brâncoveanu (1688- the ruins; the design by the architects Dan Marin and Zeno
1714), who promoted the ambitious project of restoring the old royal residence demolished in 1659 by Gheorghe Ghica at the order of the Ottoman Bogdănescu laudably aimed at maintaining the ruin as such, in its
Empire: the palace was renovated; its rooms were decorated with paintings and stucco work (in accordance with a stylistic programme that,
primary value as testimony; however, the adopted solution ends
alongside the Renaissance models, reintroduced traditional motifs, and which was later to be defined as “Brâncoveanu”). A loggia was added on the
up sidestepping the theme of the relationship between old and
eastern façade of the sixteenth-century palace to access the garden, and a new access to Biserica Mare Domnească was built on the western side. In
addition to these works, the intervention involved the entrance tower, used as a bell tower, and the Royal Chapel. new, determining, rather than a confrontation, a counterposition,
In the mid-eighteenth century, the Târgovişte palace was substantially abandoned, which accentuated its decay; the earthquake that struck the ascribable both to the formal relationships determined in a
region in 1803 and the fire taking place that same year then brought it to its final destruction. clear, out-of-scale way, and to the adopted materials. On the
The complex also includes the Royal Chapel, built around 1415 and considered the city’s most ancient religious monument; the Chindia Tower other hand, it bears observing that the design also shows a
(Turnul Chindiei); the Sfânta Vineri church, whose construction may be dated to the first half of the sixteenth century, and which was destroyed after detailed conservation of the signs of history, manifested in the
a fire in 1712; and Biserica Mare Domnească (or of the “Assumption”), a Greek-cross church covered by a done with a triapsidal termination and maintenance of the bricks damaged by the bullet shrapnel from
diaconicon, built by Petru II Cercel in the second half of the sixteenth century. the Second World War, and the fragments of plaster blackened
References
by the fire that, during the events following the fall of the regime,
Anca Filip, Arhitect Rodica Mănciulelescu. Proiecte de restaurare, ‘Revista Monumentelor Istorice’, 2017/1, pp. 152.
enveloped the building (figg. 51, 52).
 53. Bucharest, calea Victoriei, ho-
tel Novotel (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2013)
48
The lack of any linkage between the pre-existing element and
the contemporary grafting is even clearer in the nearby Novotel
building on calea Victoriei in Bucharest (fig. 53), a structure for
hotel use that, in front of the building’s imposing functional body,
the result of a clear operation of urban replacement, places, on
the main road front, the contemporary revival, in analogical style,
of the prospect of the National Theatre already destroyed during
the bombings that struck the city between 24 and 26 August 1944
(fig. 54).
Certainly worthy of note is the intervention carried out on
Bastionul Theresia in Timişoara, which grasps the “generating”
value of the (urban) fragment, understood as an element evoking
the potential unit.
The first intervention to restore the bastion took place in the early
1960s, when the ethnographic collection of the Banat museum
was transferred there.
The commitment of Studio Archaeus (Bogdan Raț, Claudiu
Toma, Codruța Negrulescu, Maja Bâldea, Marius Miclăuş, Zsolt
Varday, Brinduşa Havasi, Beatrice Lucaci, Nicolae Olteanu,
Cristina Blidariu, Vasile Oprişan), which in 2004 was assigned
the restoration of the Bastion, was aimed in the first place at the
study of the potentials that could have been offered both by the
interior spaces and by the large, upper Place d’Armes. The design
aimed at the re-composition of the passages of an interrupted
discourse, as in a musical score; the objective was to unite the
recovery for cultural use of unused spaces, also by resorting to
contemporary insertions (at any rate reversible and limited to
the paths), with conservation and valorization, by carrying out
minimal interventions on the original structures.
The works were begun in 2008, ending in 2010: first, the
reintegrations in concrete done during the interventions of the
1970s were removed; the greenery that spontaneously developed
54. Bucharest, the old National
Theater, before the bombing (1944)
(private archive).
55. Timişoara, Bastionul Theresia,
aerial view (photo credit: ‘Zeppelin’,
2012).
49
in certain areas of the upper plaza was not eliminated but merely
“regulated” and reorganized in resting places. The materials
chosen for constructing the buildings done ex-novo, selected so
as not to be showy, underwent a prior aging process to attenuate
the contrast with the original ones.
The underground plan now includes large rooms for exhibitions
and conferences.
“Spatially, the courtyard works fine and is an enjoyable place;
in a way another closed space within a former functional
baroque ensemble, which was activated by the rehabilitation
and insertions of new constructions” (Ghenciulescu 2012, 32).
In this case as well, these were merely functional interventions,
fully conserving the original structure and repurposing the
old chimneys that extracted the cannon smoke as skylights,
for a design whose aesthetics are just one of the generating
components.
“Inconspicuous interventions (…) little visible or, when not hidden,
are done with much simplicity and discretion, without even
trying to imitate the existing baroque architecture. (…) Thus, a
traditional construction element takes up the role of one of the
modernism iconic devices” (Ibidem, 31) (fig. 55).
The design that was carried out denotes a clear quality in the
language adopted, as well as the assumption, made explicit in the
insertions, of the criterion of minimum intervention.
The contemporary intervention, in fact, did not impact the TIMIŞOARA, BASTIONUL THERESIA
meaning of the original but exclusively (or nearly exclusively) its
image, suggesting its proper reading. After the conquest of Timişoara by the Habsburgs in 1716, the new rulers promoted a large-scale campaign to strengthen the city’s defences,
Unfortunately, in spite of the significant economic effort required following the then-prevailing model introduced in the late eighteenth century by French military engineer Sébastien Le Prestre de Vauban. Of the
imposing original defensive complex built between 1730 and 1733, only the Theresia Bastion remains today.
to complete the works, from a number of quarters the complaint
References
is raised that today, due to neglect and lack of maintenance, the Ștefan Ghenciulescu, A slice of Town. The Theresia Bastion, Timișoara (O bucată de oraș), ‘Zeppelin’, 2012, pp. 26-39.
widespread decay does not allow the painstakingly recovered Cristian Blidariu, Bastionul Theresia, un mall cultural?, ‘Arhitectura’, 1/2013, pp. 52-68.
spaces to be used.
 56. Baia Mare, Turnul Ştefan (photo
credit: ‘Arhitectura’, 3, 2015).
50
Some of the most interesting solutions are set out when the
design is aimed at seeking a consistent linkage between old and
new, or in the case in which the contemporary insertion functions
as a “discreet” functional counterpoint to the interpretation of
the antique; these examples underscore “the theme – typical
of restoration – of exalting the pre-existing element in terms of
figurative quality and methodological rigour in defining the new”
(Giovanni Carbonara, Palladio, XVIII, 120).
This orientation is the (inevitable) outcome of a careful critical
assessment and a profound understanding of the building that
leads to a mode of approach that combines the experimentation
of a frankly contemporary architectural language with respect
for historical and documentary value and attention to the work’s
aesthetic quality; without a doubt, this attitude owes a lot to
reflections on the authenticity of the work, and on its value as
testimony and identity, which, in recent years, have always had
great resonance in Romania: “We may conclude that there are
two distinct registers of architectural sacrality: one in which this
character, derived from a building’s worship function, is made real
and conditioned by the ritual gesture of consecration; the other,
in which the physical substance of an old structure is identified
by a community as bearer of these values. [In that case] the
(essentially secular) veneration with which societies consider the
historical monuments that they recognize as such, can confer
to them a sort of ‘sacred’ character; [it is a matter, then] of
deciphering, with immediate practical effects, and architectural
meanings. The lack of an essential distinction between the proper
and metaphorical meanings of sacred architecture can in both
cases lead to errors in judgment, when raising the problem of
preserving and restoring a historical monument; (…) whenever
it is damaged or lost (through profanation or only through banal
maintenance or restoration works), the sacrality of a religious
57. Baia Mare, Turnul Ştefan, the
vault rebuilt on the ground floor
(photo credit: ‘Arhitectura’, 3, 2015).
51
tourism promotion activities. masonry, the upper storey is accessed, which houses a
The consolidation works mainly involved the masonry apparatus multimedia room where images related to the tower and the city
which, after the plaster was removed, showed major damage that are projected; the wooden structure that originally functioned
required grouting in the masonry body. as a vertical link was almost entirely replaced, because it was
However, the clearest intervention was the steel and glass damaged.On the upper level, where an ancient clock (also the
reconstruction of the ribbed vault that originally covered the object of careful restoration) is placed, a space has been obtained
environment on the ground floor (fig. 57). Today, there is a that functions as a panoramic vantage point.
lapidarium here that collects fragments of sepulchral inscriptions, An additional aspect of the restoration intervention consists of
Gothic architectural elements, and stone decorations discovered arranging the finds discovered during the archaeological digs
during excavations carried out in the early twentieth century – performed in the area surrounding the tower, where an elegant
finds whose origin, however, is not specified. lighting design is destined to virtually redefine the masonry profile
By a staircase partially incorporated into the width of the of the two lost church buildings.
building can be wholly restored by carrying out the canonical BAIA MARE, TURNUL ŞTEFAN
ritual of consecration. To the contrary, no premeditated human Turnul Ştefan was originally the campanile of the Sf. Ştefan church, and is currently the only conserved architectural remain of a complex that, in
gesture will ever be able to reconstruct the “sacrality” – or the addition to the Gothic Sf. Martin (1347) church, comprised the Jesuit monastery with the annexed Catholic church of Sfânta Treime (1717-1719) and
authenticity – of a historic monument, imputed or destroyed the Degenfeld house (sixteenth-seventeenth centuries).
following an inappropriate intervention on it. Perhaps this Sf. Ştefan was built in 1446 at the initiative of Prince Iancu of Hunedoara, but was inaugurated only in 1468, under the reign of Matthias Corvinus;
is precisely the key to the fascination exerted by historic it was finally demolished in 1847. It presented a bipartite space divided by a row of pillars and characterized, on the eastern side, by an elongated
monuments. Beyond its specific values, each construction chorus with a polygonal termination.
belonging to this category emanates a sense of uniqueness, The bell tower, on the other hand, was on the other side: it was accessed via an entrance framed by cornices (the result of the restoration
completed in 1898) with phytomorphic decoration enriched by symbols of the Evangelists Matthew and John, an angel and an eagle’s head, a type
and raises the thought that its disappearance would mean an
quite popular in the first half of the fourteenth century and subsequently reused, for example in the Gothic door to the reformed church in Sighetu
irreparable loss” (Kovacs, 2012, Italian translation from Romanian Marmaţiei. According to some sources, it originally had a cornice decorated with a series of pointed arches, probably dating to the time of Ioan de
by the author). Hunedoara (fifteenth century). Rectangular in layout, the tower was covered, on the ground floor, by a cross vault with pointed profile. Originally
The first of the examples taken into consideration among those in used for its strategic view over the city, it was destroyed by fire on several occasions. In 1619, the top was put back together in a square-based
which this dialoguing co-presence of the ancient and the new is pyramid shape with four turrets at the corners; seriously damaged at the end of that century, it was rebuilt yet again in 1763.
experimented with is the Ştefan Tower, symbol of the city of Baia References
Mare (fig. 56). The goal of the restoration intervention (9 Opţiune Ildiko Mitru, Stefan Ioan Paskucz, Studiu istoric, inventarierea valorilor pentru reabilitarea și amenajarea interioară a Complexului Sfântul Ștefan din
s.r.l., general architect Stefan Paskucz), begun in February 2014 Baia-Mare (Rehabilitation of Baia Mare Old Town Square-Stephen Tower), ‘Arhitectura’, 3, 2015, pp. 40-45.
and concluded in 2016, was to consolidate the tower’s masonry Ildiko Mitru, Reabilitarea și promovarea identității culturale a Pieței Cetății și a Turnului Ștefan din Baia Mare, ‘Revista Monumentelor Istorice’,
2017/1, pp. 128-135.
structure and its adaptation to a space destined to accommodate
 On the current page:
58. Braşov, Bastionul Postavarilor,
view of the external wall (photo
credit: ‘Zeppelin’, 2012).
On the next page:
59. Braşov, Bastionul Postavarilor,
the new corten structure (photo
credit: ‘Zeppelin’, 2012).
60. Braşov, Bastionul Postavarilor,
the new structure on the ground
floor (photo credit: ‘Zeppelin’, 2012).
52
Another noteworthy intervention was the one carried out
between 2008 and 2011 by the Point 4 Architects & Zeppelin
architecture firm (Radu Enescu, Constantin Goagea, Ada
Demetriu, Vitalie Cataraga, Justin Baroncea) for the development
of an interactive information centre inside Bastionul Postavarilor
in Braşov (fig. 58). During the first decade of the 21st century,
the local Council of Brașov initiated a gradual programme for
the restoration and reconversion of the defensive bastions, the
towers, and the city walls. Neglected for a long period of time,
several elements of the sixteenth-century fortification, like
staircases, defensive systems, or guard walks, had completely
disappeared; only the city walls had remained intact. The
structure of the bastion, which was also left in a state of utter
abandonment, consisted of an extremely thick wall with a circular
pattern; however, an archaeological campaign also unearthed the
foundations of a second masonry portion that likely belonged to
a smaller, prior fifteenth-century tower, in addition to traces of an
old perimeter wall two metres thick.
The theme implemented by the customer called for restoring and
valorizing the bastion and the archaeological remains, as well
as setting up, within the architectural complex, an interactive
information centre on Brasov’s fortifications.
The first design hypothesis, which called for inserting a reinforced
concrete ring beam at the top of the masonry apparatus to
support the loads imposed by a metal and polycarbonate roof,
would inevitably have substantially altered the monument,
introducing new and inconsistent elements into it. The design
was therefore directed towards the development of a new,
internal tower, ideally reversible, that in no way interfered with
the bastion’s structure and that at the same time recovered and
interpreted the identity elements inherent in the conserved
traces of the historical palimpsest. The ultimate objective was
to create a structure as light as possible, as well as declaredly
contemporary: towards this end, a steel bearing structure was
adopted, with infill panels in Cor-Ten, a material that obeys the
ineluctable need to clearly mark the intervention’s contemporary
nature; contributing to this objective is the roughened surface of
the oxidized metal representing the tension originally expressed
53
by the place (fig. 59). The area of the new “functional tower,” glass surfaces) and of allowing visitors to observe the city from a
starting from the foundation structures placed at the basement privileged vantage point and to use the cafeteria and the tourist
level (fig. 60), gradually increases in diameter as the bastion rises information point inside.
in height; although in certain areas the “tension” between the After the structure was consolidated, the decision was made to
two structures appears quite high, they in no case seem to enter reconstruct the ancient guard walks, whose identification was
into structural or formal conflict. The form of the new insertion, permitted by the traces found on the masonry surface; these
like the size of its voids that are independent, yet directly architectural elements were re-proposed in the same position and
conditioned by the characteristics typical of the original building, with the same geometry as the original ones, but they were made
arises from the objective established in the design of having a using a steel structure with a beech-wood pavement and metal
broad perception of the monument (thanks also to the large, handrail.
BRAŞOV, BASTIONUL POSTAVARILOR
Brașov is one of the cities built in the Middle Ages by German settlers, but most of its fortifications were demolished to respond to the need for free
areas as a consequence of the considerable urban development seen in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. One of the principal elements of
this defensive system was the sixteenth-century Bastionul Postăvarilor, built in the shape of an ellipse sixteen metres in diameter, with four levels of
wooden galleries.
References
Ștefan Ghenciulescu, The Tower within the Tower. The Drapers Bastion, Braşov (Turnul din interorul turnului), ‘Zeppelin’, 2012, pp. 98-107.
 61. Braşov, Humanitas bookstore
(photo credit: BNA archive).
62. Bucharest, Carturesti Verona
bookstore, external view (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).
63. Bucharest, Carturesti Verona
bookstore, interior (photo credit: Ste-
fano D’Avino, 2016).
54
Romania’s multiform restoration landscape also includes
interventions inevitably involving a “leap of scale,” which is to say
aimed at the functional recovery of spaces limited in size, and that
are therefore affected by a design pushing towards the particular,
in certain cases revealing very interesting solutions; the reasons
for these appreciable outcomes may be identified mainly in the
baggage of technical/artisanal skills and in the ability to lead work
site phases that are traditionally the boast of Romanian architects.
One example is the recovery of two eighteenth-century
residences combined into a single unit in the eighteenth century,
located in the city of Brasov, aimed at the arrangement of a
commercial space for the Humanitas bookshop chain. The design,
overseen by the architects Johannes Bertleff, Dragoș Oprea,
and Liviu Creosteanu, dates to 2004 and consisted of structural
consolidation, the renovation of the roof covering and of the
plaster of the façade, and lastly the recovery of the spaces on the
ground floor of the main building.
The arrangement of the spaces for cultural purposes, which is to
say the design’s focus, did not neglect conserving the material
traces bearing witness to the original dwelling spaces, elegantly
consolidating and conserving the plaster and the historical linings,
as well as the eighteenth-century flooring, and entrusting to
complementary furnishings (furniture, decor, and lighting system)
the task of making the places functional and welcoming (fig.
61); it is a design choice that appears aware of the testimonial
value inherent to the materials and the traditional construction
techniques.
The project carried out between 2000 and 2015 by the architect
Șerban Sturdza for the restoration of two bourgeois residences
located in the centre of Bucharest, destined to become the
Carturesti Verona bookshop (fig. 62), appears particularly
successful.
These spaces were originally the residence of Dimitrie Alexandru
Sturdza-Miclăușanu, a politician and academic, and Prime
Minister of Romania between 1895 and 1909: the bourgeois
family house was arranged on three levels, with a central
salon upon which, on ground level, the master rooms faced
symmetrically; the service environments were on the lower level,
while the upper level housed other utility spaces. The building
was transformed into a bookshop even before its nationalization
by the Communist regime; the forced acquisition among the
State’s assets, with the purpose of conserving there the works
that did not following the Party’s political line, did not however
result in erasing the spirit of the place, whose authenticity was
maintained intact.
The bookshop’s current arrangement is the outcome of a
restoration carried out with extreme philological rigour and a
singular attention to the details: the bricks of the vaults in the
basement, the plastered walls of the residential space, and the
wood of the carpentry supporting the roof were the object of
a shrewd conservation intervention, and show – intact – their
64. Bucharest, Carturesti Verona
bookstore, interior (photo credit: Ste-
fano D’Avino, 2016).
65. Bucharest, Carturesti Carousel
bookstore, interior (photo credit: Ste-
fano D’Avino, 2019).
55
original material nature (fig. 63); the ceilings, some of which show
the structure in wood and supporting iron, conserve the signs of
history, without reintegrations, as do the moulded profiles that
originally adorned the ceilings, only the impression of which is
conserved today (fig. 64).
An equally interesting intervention is the one carried out at
Carturesti Carousel, a cultural space on six levels obtained within
one of Bucharest’s most important historic palaces, Chrissoveloni
Palace, built in 1860; it accommodates a bookshop, a cafeteria, a
space for multimedia events, and an art gallery (fig. 65).
Formerly owned by Romania’s most powerful family of bankers,
after the financial crisis of the 1930s the building was first
transformed into a community market, then confiscated during
the Communist regime, and lastly abandoned.
Concluded in February 2015, the restoration restored an
architecture that is both frankly contemporary and fully
consistent with the programmatic conservation of the original
characteristics; this direction may be seen, for example, in the
rigorous conservative treatment of the façade as well as in
 66. Bucharest, Carturesti Carousel
bookstore, the basement (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2019).
56
the maintenance of the structural system, entrusted to small,
nineteenth-century wrought-iron columns, inserted in modern
times into the fluid space of the exposition balconies; similarly
positive is the choice of leaving in open view, in the basement,
the structural elements in reinforced concrete, bearing witness to
past consolidation interventions not erased by history (fig. 66).
Restoration and the city
The situation of restoration on an urban scale in Romania cannot
be outlined without examining the measures taken in this sense a
half-century ago, during the Communist regime.
In 1972, Ceaușescu in fact promoted a radical programme to
transform the urban landscape on a national scale, presented as a
necessary project to “modernize” Romanian cities, and based on
a large-scale demolition/reconstruction work aimed, on the one
hand, at replacing the Romanian cultural tradition with a “new
Socialist identity,” and on the other at measuring the exercise of
a power that was heading towards becoming an absolute regime.
Starting in 1985, “large areas of Bucharest (…) were destroyed. In
keeping with the government’s policy (the entire rural population,
including Romanians, Hungarians, Germans, and Serbs, had to
be resettled to eliminate the differences among urban and rural
living conditions), thirty villages were simultaneously destroyed
and thousands of other villages and cities were to have the same
fate” (Giurescu, 1989)
This programme of urban renewal and, more generally, of
redefinition of the cultural and identity references of the new
Socialist state was then to see a significant acceleration after the
seismic event that struck Romania in 1977 (an account of the loss
of historical monuments and of their surrounding urban fabric
in Bucharest following large-scale requalification projects after
the 1977 earthquake may be found in Cantacuzino, 1987); this
took place even though a regulation approved in 1974 expressly
prohibited the destruction of historic and artistic monuments,
in fact requiring their conservation and protection: the outcome
of this operation was that in the centre of Bucharest alone,
about nine thousand examples of historic architecture, between
residences and church buildings, were destroyed. [On the subject,
cf. Stefano D’Avino, Bucharest burns? Namely restoration of
monuments and urban policy in Romania during the regime of
Nicolae Ceauşescu, in this volume].
As a consequence of this, in Romania urban restoration
coincided for many years with the practice of reconstruction;
this phenomenon also includes the many transfers of religious
buildings carried out by the engineer Eugeniu Iordăchescu
between 1982 and 1989, with the objective of recharacterizing –
while retaining some of its main references – the urban settings
thoroughly revised in the name of ‘modernization’.
“Of course the official propaganda of the period presented the
re-placement of the churches as a proof of respect of the regime
for the past and simultaneously a subject of pride for the civil
engineering skills of socialism” (Nistor 2012, 228).
After 1989, the urban landscape was marked by the presence
of numerous historic aristocratic residences, only some of
which subjected to restoration interventions, showing a certain
“antiquarian taste”; these are counterbalanced by the many
buildings expropriated during the Communist regime, now
abandoned to ruin and widespread decay, like Hanul Solacolu in
Calea Moşilor, in Bucharest (figg. 67, 68), due to the economic
impossibility for the owners – to whom they were only recently
restored – to provide for their recovery; this situation is also
outlined in an article published in Transsylvania Nostra in 2011 by
Călin Hoinărescu (cf. references).
The theme of the vastness of the ruined heritage is promptly
67. Bucharest, Calea Moşilor, Hanul
Solacolu, external view (photo credit:
Stefano D’Avino, 2016).
68. Bucharest, Calea Moşilor, Hanul
Solacolu, degraded structures (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2016).
57
addressed in an article published by Dorottya Makay, Tamás
Emődi and Carmen Florescu in 2017: “The issue of ruins and
interventions regarding them is, in our country, more complex
than in Western Europe. Firstly, the number of historic buildings
belonging to different heritage categories that are in a state of
ruin is extremely large.
Besides the archaeological ruins (ancient or mediaeval), those
of castles and churches or mansions that have been abandoned
or devastated hundreds of years ago, or ruins resulted following
natural disasters, there is a large category consisting of buildings
that have been relatively recently abandoned or destroyed, in
the last decades. This category includes industrial buildings, small
railways, vernacular houses, cultural and administrative buildings
that had lost their use in the post-revolutionary period, hundreds
of aristocratic residences, manor houses, and mansions in an
advanced state of degradation or pre-collapse” (Makay, Emödi,
Florescu 2017, 12).
Today, given the recovery of that economic value of the
properties that the regime had stubbornly denied, many of those
ruined architectures have been fated to become the object of
speculation (a fate that also involved considerable extra-urban
architectures, like the Cantacuzino palace in Florești) (figg. 69, 70,
71).
It is wholly clear that the loosening of the theoretical tension
consequent to the prevailing interests representing, when not
actually celebrating, the regime (which actually continued for
at least a decade after Ceaușescu was removed from power)
that led to widespread demolitions and as many large-scale
reconstruction/replacement campaigns, and the need for
renewal strongly felt in the 1980s and 1990s, came together in
major interventions of modern reconfiguration of the city, with
the consequent risk of impairing appreciation of the historic
 69. Florești, Cantacuzino Palace, 72. Bucharest, str. Lipscani, traces of
external view (photo credit: Stefano demolished buildings (photo credit:
D’Avino, 2013). Stefano D’Avino, 2019).

70. Florești, Cantacuzino Palace, 73. Bucharest, str. Mille, Teatrul

degraded structures inside (photo Capitol (photo credit: Vlad Massaci,
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2013). 2018).

71. Florești, Cantacuzino Palace,

degraded structures inside (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2013).

58 59
palimpsest.
Testimony of the work of “regularization” of the urban fronts
carried out during those years may be seen in the traces,
appreciably evidenced with signage on the ground, of the
buildings demolished on str. Lipscani (fig. 72).
The negation of the economic value of property pursued by the
regime had at any rate made it more convenient to demolish
and then replace historic architectures; this practice, albeit in
considerably reduced form, is pursued to this day (as shown by
the recent demolition of the historic Capitol Theatre in Bucharest)
(fig. 73), in spite of the efforts of the National Institute of
Heritage (and, more generally, the Ministry of Culture) to impose
restrictions on these unscrupulous interventions.
It comes as no surprise that to this day, some Romanian scholars
harbour “concerns over the protection of the built heritage, as
well as over sustainable development, in which culture plays an
important role. By comparing the international situation with
Romania’s, the practice in the country appears to be far from
the general principles, highly desirable in theory and expressed
through different documents adopted for the integrated
conservation of cities and the traditional urban fabric” (Crisan
2018).
“Although Romania ratified the Convention of Granada, in the
local practice we witness entirely different processes in too many
cases. The Washington Charter (ICOMOS 1987) extended the
sphere of interest in heritage preservation towards historic towns
and urban areas, [but] in present day many Romanian towns
are being threatened, physically degraded, damaged or even
destroyed, by the impact of the urban development.
In our country we witness massive demolitions, carried out not in
order to eliminate buildings detrimental to their environment, or
in order to accomplish large-scale operations of public interest,
 74. Bucharest, bulevardul Dacia,
hotel Duke (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2014).
60
but in order to maximise the profit of the lot, for private benefits.
(...)
The question is why we are demolishing? With what and how
are the demolished houses being replaced? (...) We cannot avoid
to wonder: what is in fact the expression of the local cultural
identity? Will we still be able to find there our history, traditions
and our own identity? Newly built entities in historic quarters are
natural, and can mark the contribution of the respective period
to the evolution of that area over time. It depends, however, how
these insertions are implemented. The value of built heritage
is not limited to historic buildings protected by specific laws.
Built heritage is in its entirety a depository of material values
representing ‘renewable resources’, which need to be managed
reasonably; but, within the built heritage, the historic monuments
are ‘non-renewable resources’” (R. Crisan 2018, 35-38).
These critics’ attention is towards rather unscrupulous
interventions carried out without taking account of the quality of
the context – in a climate of formal counterposition experimented
with through openly contemporary yet extraneous insertions
in which the constant work of replacing urban fronts and their
improper chromatic renovation are systematically pursued,
uncaring of the consequent loss of value. Bearing witness to
this unscrupulous practice are, for example, the building that
houses the Hotel Duke in Bucharest (fig. 74) and the recently built
building at the intersection of Bulevardul Ion Bratianu and str.
Colței (fig. 75).
However, over the past twenty years, attention has, in parallel,
been seen towards critical speculation aimed at urban restoration
– a trend that is without a doubt affected, in theoretical premises
and operative acts alike – by the dialogue that has been initiated
with the European culture of the discipline, which instead
resulted in interesting experiences of careful conservation of
existing elements, not impacted by reconstruction compromises;
this is the case with the restorations of the houses overlooking str.
Franceză, in the centre of Romania’s capital (fig. 76).
The historic industrial heritage
The attention devoted to recovering the historic industrial
heritage in Romania is a relatively recent subject of interest; until
the late twentieth century, the conversion of buildings formerly
destined for production, or their demolition and replacement
– also in the case of architectures that were remnants of a
considerable share of the country’s identity – was the most widely
practised solution, as Şerban Cantacuzino witnessed as early as
1991 (Cantacuzino, 1991). After twenty years, also by virtue of
the debate set off in Europe at the same time, the importance of
these documents of material history is considerably augmented,
and the recovery of industrial heritage has taken on the trait
of being an intervention of full-blown operative criticism. “The
results of an unprecedented ‘production’, especially in the 20th
century, but also in the previous ones, prominently present in
the landscape, be it urban or rural, industrial sites are often
perceived by the public (sometimes even by the specialist) as
remains of a hated era, with no other value than the exclusively
functional one. In the first half of the last century, the objectives
that were assumed by heritage protection – the ‘traditional’
historic buildings: antique ruins, religious buildings, castles,
etc. – had their source in a ‘more distant era and in a different
aesthetic’ and were radically different from the industrial values
brought into discussion as necessary to protect. The cult of
heritage was already subject to a ‘quantitative metamorphosis’
and the considerable contribution of new heritage categories was
due to ‘the crossing of the industrialization wall’, through which
‘factories, warehouses, hangars, remains of technical progress or
75. Bucharest, building in bulevar-
dul Bratianu (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2019).
76. Bucharest, historic houses in
str. Franceza (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2015).
61
of structural changes in the economy, large empty shells that the
industrial tide has abandoned on the out-skirts of cities and even
in their centres’ were added to the preservation practice. (…)
The concern for a systematic inventory of these values was
present in the postwar years of the 20th century, starting with
the 1953-1955 campaign that has led to the publication of the
List of cultural heritage throughout the People’s Republic of
Romania (PRR) in 1955. (…)The plight of the Romanian industrial
heritage is ‘owed’ largely to the lack of such a national policy for
the specialised inventory of industrial historic buildings in the last
20 years. Thus, industrial sites can be evaluated only in relation
with their immediate context and not within a broader one, which
could provide an overview – thematic, regional and national
– of this type of heritage. A significant number of valuable
heritage sites have been lost and are still being lost without prior
documentation and without the possibility to determine the
extent of these losses at national level” (Iamandescu 2014, 20-
22).Particularly significant on the landscape of the restoration of
the abandoned industrial heritage, both for the contained formal
style adopted, and for the educational conservation of the albeit
minimum signs of the original structure, is the project that, in
2006, after a period of oblivion that continued for more than half
a century, was initiated for the reconversion of the abandoned old
water distribution plant of the city Suceava into a cultural centre
(Center for Architecture, Urban Culture and Landscape) (figg. 77,
78). Conducted by the “Arhitectură, Grafică, Design” working
group coordinated by Constantin Gorcea, the intervention
constitutes a solution – as an alternative to destruction – to the
widespread problem of the recovery of the abandoned industrial
architectural heritage, a theme particularly felt in the areas more
subject to quick urban transformations.
The reconversion of an early twentieth-century water
 77. Suceava, Water Plant, Center for 79. Suceava, Water Plant, Center
Architecture and Landscape, external for Architecture and Landscape,
view (photo credit: BNA archive). exhibition hall (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2014).
78. Suceava, Water Plant, Center
for Architecture and Landscape, en- 80. Suceava, Water Plant, Center for
trance (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, Architecture and Landscape, interior
2014). detail (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2014).

62 63
treatment plant is a quite complex subject, given the difficulty
of reinserting, into the circuit of public spaces, an architecture
that was originally a technical volume; this problematic nature
is accentuated by the setting’s lower willingness to welcome the
appropriate modifications. Thus, the choice, in restoration, of
conserving the material traces of the original function, may be
better appreciated. The project was conceived with the intent
of reducing to a minimum the invasiveness of the contemporary
intervention, understood, rather, as an artisanal exercise of
“reweaving”: “The new interventions have considered only the
necessary work to carry on a cultural function according to today’s
standards; the architects have proved their respect towards the
well-done work of the past and the story of the place” (Goacea
2012, 17).The clearest works on the structure consisted mainly
of the consolidation with carbon fibres of the damaged masonry
apparatus, and above all the development of a new access
through the ancient tanks, obtained by making a deep crack
into the earthwork with the purpose of offering an element of
connection with the space in front of the structure.
The reconversion of the technical environments to spaces for
conferences, concerts, and exhibitions (concluding in 2012) did
not impact its character; the careful maintenance of the original
material remnants, exalted by the conservation of the original
plaster (understood as “technological frescoes”) (figg. 79, 80) and
SUCEAVA, WATER PLANT, CENTER FOR ARCHITECTURE AND LANDSCAPE
the careful treatment of the masonry surfaces, both internal and
internal (consolidated and reintegrated, and where necessary Built in 1912 by German and Austrian engineers in the multicultural region of Bucovina, the “Water Plant” symbolizes, in a certain way, the “birth” of
dehumidified rather than rebuilt) instead constituted the solution the modern city of Suceava, especially for having introduced a new, “ethical” dimension of the drinking water distribution service. The complex was
for connecting the lost function to the contemporary age. in use for about fifty years, until 1960; later converted into a warehouse, it was abandoned for good in 1989.
Lastly, the insertion of contemporary signs like glass walls on References
Cosmina Goacea, The Water Plant, Suceava. Centre of Architecture, Urban Culture and Landscape (Uzina de Apă, Suceava), ‘Zeppelin’, 2012, pp. 12-
the intermediate level appears quite balanced, and the decision
25.
to leave “open-face” ‘the reinforced concrete structures on the Maria Mănescu, Uzina de Apă din Suceava – vocaţia culturală a patrimoniului arhitectural industrial, ‘Arhitectura’, 4-5/2017 (670-671).
earthwork level at the entrance, appear praiseworthy.
 81. Bucharest, The Ark Center for 82. Bucharest, The Ark Center for
Contemporary Art (photo credit: Ste- Contemporary Art, the vertical con-
fano D’Avino, 2019). necting element (photo credit: Ste-
fano D’Avino, 2019).

83.Bucharest, The Ark Center for

Contemporary Art, the attic (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2019).

64
One of the most recent (and certainly among the most
interesting) interventions is the reconversion of a nineteenth-
century industrial building situated in a Bucharest neighbourhood
highly affected by large-scale demolition interventions during the
Ceauşescu era, in a space for cultural production called “The Ark”
(fig. 81).
In 2006, the building was purchased by private investors who
entrusted the recovery design to the Re-Act Now Studio firm
(Mario Kuibus and Teodor Frolu; with Roxana Dumitriu, Irina
Plesnila, Cristina Chivu, Elena Toader, Ioan Marcean, Adela
Antoniu, and Valentin Varlan), with the dual aim of creating a
space to accommodate design studies and activating, together,
a virtuous process of the neighbourhood’s economic, social, and
identity recovery; the intervention was completed two years later,
in 2008.
65
The building’s three levels accommodate, on the ground floor,
a Centre for contemporary art; the upper storey has spaces
for offices and meeting rooms, while the lower floor houses
multimedia rooms and spaces for conferences.
The choice of designers, aimed at valorizing the original
building, has combined the conservation of what was
rescued from fire and from neglect (the structures were subject
only to a consolidation intervention) with a frankly
contemporary insertion made in translucent polycarbonate with
the function of providing vertical connection (fig. 82); the
roofing destroyed in the 1990 fire was rebuilt, maintaining
its original design, but raised to emphasize its objective
temporal distance from the nineteenth-century building and at
the same time to enlarge the building’s functional spaces
(fig. 83).

BUCHAREST. THE ARK

The Ark is an event space obtained within an industrial building situated in the central area of Bucharest, near the incomplete Palace of the
Parliament, in an area profoundly altered during the Communist era.
The design for the building, known as “Vama Antrepozite,” was carried out in 1898 to accommodate the commodities exchange, and belonged to
an industrial complex planned as part of a large-scale modernization programme for the city, promoted by the Municipality of Bucharest in 1894.
The design’s authors were the Italian Giulio Magni and the Romanian engineer Anghel Saligny. Giulio Magni (1859-1930) was one of the leading
architects in Europe between the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, playing a major role in Romanian architecture; from 1894 to 1987 he led
the Studies Service at the Department of Technical Works of the Municipality of Bucharest, and in that position carried out many important works,
including the Comanesti Station, the Palace of the Apostolic Nunciature, and the Union Hall (demolished in the 1980s).
The building was used as a Customs post office from 1945 until the early 1980s; it also survived the massive demolitions ordered by Nicolae
Ceauşescu that during those years erased the entire Urano neighbourhood and, after suffering improper utilizations (it was also the site of storage
for the materials used for the construction of the nearby “People’s House”), in 1990 the structure was grievously damaged by a fire that resulted in
its final abandonment.
References
Ștefan Ghenciulescu, The Ark. Indipendent Center for Creative Industries, ‘Zeppelin’, 2012, pp. 54-63.
Andrei Mărgulescu, From the Freigt Stock to The Ark, ‘Arhitectura’, Post-restaurare, special issue, 6/2017-1/2018 (672-673), pp. 160-167.
 84. Moşna, Lutheran Evangelical Top: 85. Moşna, Lutheran Evangeli-
Church, aerial view (photo credit: cal Church, plan and section (photo
BNA archive). credit: BNA archive).

Down: 86. Moşna, Lutheran Evan-

gelical Church, restoration of the
external wall (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2014).

66
Structural and functional recovery interventions
An additional aspect of restoration in Romania is that of the
interventions aimed at the structures’ consolidation or, to put it
better, at the material conservation of the historic architecture.
This field shows an unexpected distinction among the
disciplinary contributions that, in certain cases, ended up nearly
determining two distinct design directions. “The contemporary
practice of structural rehabilitation is governed in Romania
by two substantially different tendencies: on the one hand,
the consolidation achieved by adjusting the structures to the
requirements of contemporary technical prescriptions, thereby
often determining the need for consolidation with modern
materials, or less modern ones like reinforced concrete (an
approach justified, first of all, in geographic areas with significant
seismicity); and on the other hand, an approach founded upon
the idea of rehabilitation and structural improvement, with the
use of traditional materials and techniques” (Csilia Hegedüs,
Zsuzsanna Eke, Dorottya Makay, Restaurarea și revitalizarea
Castelului Bánffy din Bonțida, jud. Cluj, ‘Revista Monumentelor
Istorice’, 2017, 1, pp. 92-103, 95; translation from Romanian by
67
the author). This clearly gives rise to a quite diversified operative
outcome: in certain restorations, such as the one carried out in
2014 by Mihai Opreanu (with the contribution of Hanna Dérer
and Dan Ionescu) on the Evangelical church of Moșna (fig. 84),
where a certain satisfaction over the technical solution appears
to prevail. In the design, aimed at the consolidation of the
foundation structures and of the Gothic vaults (where the work
intervened with reinforced concrete ring beams on the extrados)
(fig. 85), after an appreciable historical and document analysis
and a careful survey, the same tendency towards the theme of
the of the relationship between architectural interpretation and
restoration intervention– largely neglected or reduced to a mere
question, detached from the critical process, of masonry balance
– is not felt; for example, the widespread use of absorbent
plasters (adopted as the sacrifice layer) has resulted in the
unacceptable loss of a material sign. The design therefore seems
to lack a global, unitary vision. Regarding attention to the material
document, an appreciable intervention was carried out in the
protection of the masonry ridges of the fortified enclosure of the
Evangelical church of Moşna (2014) (fig. 86).

MOŞNA, EVANGELICAL CHURCH

The fortified Evangelical Lutheran church of Moşna (1485) is a late-Gothic work by the master Andreas di Sibiu (the only other architectural work by
the same artist is in Keresztényfalva, in the district of Brașov); the campanile, separated from the church, is earlier, and can be dated between 1300
and 1400. It was built on the site of a fourteenth-century Roman basilica, whose western door is conserved in the current building; most likely, many
of the stone ashlars used to build the masonry walls have a similar origin.
The church is laid out with three naves divided by four pairs of considerably inclined twisted columns; two hypotheses have been posited in this
regard: the first supposes that the church was built in two distinct phases and that the roofing of the central nave was done only after erecting the
two structurally autonomous side ones; the second is based on an underlying defect of the original basilica.
Over the centuries, on a number of occasions, restoration interventions were performed on the monument: documents bear witness to works from
the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries. The church lastly saw a major renovation during the twentieth century.
 88. Costesti, Naşterea Maicii Dom-
nului churc external view during
the restoration (photo credit: BNA
archive).
68
A considerable discontinuity between the conservation need of
the material document and the construction of supports aimed
at consolidating the damaged structures is seen in biserica
Naşterea Maicii Domnului in Costesti, which belongs to a small
convent complex dating to 1689 (fig. 87). Prior to the restoration
intervention, the church was in a precarious state of conservation:
the walls, the vaults, and the arches showed a widespread
cracking situation ascribable to the heterogeneous foundation
terrain, to the seismic events that had periodically affected
the region, and to the vibrations produced on a daily basis by
the nearby lime quarry; the precious frescoes decorating the
interior, painted by Nicolae Popa in 1755-1756, had also suffered
enormous damage, to the point that, over time, the structure
had been secured by the installation of four steel belts and the
insertion of metal frames in the doors and windows.
Carried out by the architects Aurel Ioan Botez and Mihnea
Bucovici from 2011 to 2014, the intervention was therefore
mainly aimed at ensuring the complex’s structural stability
and, secondarily, at the restoration of the exterior façades
and of the interior frescoed walls. The structural consolidation
operations consisted of making a perimeter strip in reinforced
concrete inserted on the level of the foundations, and connected
transversally by beams, and of using reinforced ring beams to
consolidate the brick vaults; these operations are in fact quite
invasive. The works to make the ring beams at the base unearthed
the stone slabs of the Medieval pavement, relocated into its
original position upon making a perimeter ventilation channel.
After removing the steel supports put in place earlier to avoid
preventable collapses, perforations were made in to the masonry
mass, with subsequent grouting and spot sealing.
The surfaces of the exterior walls, already deteriorated due
to improper cement patching, had erosion problems caused
by rising dampness; moreover, the windows’ stone cornices
were quite damaged: replastering was not done, opting for an
“archaeological” presentation that permitted direct reading of the
stone surface, clearly (and in a “dissociative” way) distinguishing
between the conservative option for the surviving parts and
the more freely invasive one for the supports put in place for
consolidation (fig. 88).
The restoration then also involved the roof structure which was
wholly restored, slightly augmenting its projection and replacing
its lining.
Lastly, it is to be borne in mind that a fertile, yet still not
sufficiently investigated, prospect for research in the area
of structural consolidation originates from the significant
contribution made to the discipline by Mircea Crisan; these
87. Costesti, Naşterea Maicii Dom-
nului churc, plan (photo credit: BNA
archive).
89. Bucharest, building in bulevar-
dul Magheru (photo credit: BNA
archive).
69
design solutions are not impacted by prejudicial subordination to A parallel field of operation, not at all distant from that of
scientific and technological subjects, but, rather, are done through restoration, relates to the interventions for the functional
detailed mediation by these apparatus with the knowledge recovery of buildings, referring mainly to the modern age: these
taken on by continuous, uninterrupted work site practice on pre- measures, carried out on twentieth-century architectures, are
modern structures and materials. aimed at translating them to the future, without betraying their
One must absolutely agree with his detailed appeal to the need identity as bearing witness to material history.
to conserve the material value of historic architecture: “When Of many examples, significant is the one carried out in a building
confronted to various situations every day, we often wonder what in Bucharest, on Boulevard Magheru (fig. 89), Bucharest’s main
happens with the historic buildings in Romania. (...) Considering north-south axis, whose construction was carried out during
the cultural consequences and the extremely delicate nature of the grand Haussmann-style urban restructuring promoted by
the area concerned, the structural interventions on the historic the Municipality in the late nineteenth century, with the aim of
built heritage cannot be given over to improvisations by operators bringing order to the urban fabric of the city’s central area.
who do not have the necessary experience and to extrapolations Like all those made in reinforced concrete in Romania during the
of the seismic rules for new buildings. Even if the protection of inter-War period, the building required a thorough intervention
human lives is an essential criterion within the intervention, this of consolidation of the resisting composition due to the advanced
does not mean that the objective of cultural heritage protection state of decay of the foundation structures as well as the bearing
should be overlooked, either in terms of image, or of materiality, structures (pillars and beams): these elements, given that
whose nature ensures its authenticity and thus the preservation thickening them would have distorted the overall design, were
of its real value. (...) Structural interventions on historic buildings replaced where possible.
should not elude the obligation to pass on this heritage to future The importance of the intervention lies essentially in the desire to
generations, including the demystified message residing in its reassess the architecture of the Modern Movement in Romania,
authentic physical consistency, i.e. materials, labour, conception, whose stylistic authenticity too often goes unacknowledged,
location, which all represent the essence of the value to be through spot interventions calibrated to technical specifications,
preserved” (M. Crisan 2013, 3-4). like those adopted in the construction phase.
BUCHAREST, BUILDING ON BOULEVARD MAGHERU
The majority of the buildings overlooking the Boulevard were designed by architects who, on various grounds, may be considered as representatives
of the Modern Movement in Romania (Horia Creangă, Duiliu Marcu Arghir Culina, etc.).
The building was erected during 1936-37 to house residences and offices; although the design may be referred to Rudolf Fraenkel, an architect who
had begun his career in Germany before relocating to Romania, it officially bears the name of Eugen Shimsy.
 90. Bucharest, Elvire Popesco cinema
hall (photo credit: BNA archive).
70
Built in 1975, the Elvire Popesco cinema is adjacent to the
headquarters of the French Institute of Bucharest (IFB); to a
certain degree, this required the architect Attila Kim, the creator
of the restoration design, to intervene first of all on the atrium of
the cinema, considerably enlarged to establish a new relationship
of proportion with the main building and to redefine the exterior
space, towards the courtyard, as well. The new volume, like the
cinema’s façade, taller and brought forward to align it with the
Institute, took on a finishing in Cor-Ten steel, while maintaining
the building’s original, nearly minimalist architectural nature (fig.
90).
Carried out in 2014, the restoration intervention also involved the
cinema’s interior, where the wooden panels that originally lined
the environment, considered outdated from the standpoint of
acoustical performance, were transformed into a sort of three-
dimensional wooden structure that responds to the more modern
technical requirements and at the same time incorporates the
heating, electrical, and ventilation systems.
An intervention that bears several analogies is the one done
on the Victoria Bela Lugosi cinema in Lugoj. Dating to 1956, the
theatre originally occupied a large hall in the Hotel Dacia (built in
1912), enlarged to take up part of the appurtenant courtyard with
a semi-prefabricated reinforced concrete structure. In 1992, the
cinema was divided into two, and the environments were partially
modified to obtain commercial spaces. The programme to recover
the historic cinema began in 2008, when the municipality of Lugoj
purchased it from the owner; the following year, it was subjected
to a tender that in 2011 resulted in the drafting of a restoration
design by the architect Dan Idiceanu-Mathe; the works were
completed in May 2014.
Lastly, worthy of note is the restoration (albeit partially impacted
by a certain tendency towards recovery) which, from 2010 to
91. Miercurea Ciuc, Marton e Segito
school (photo credit: BNA archive).
71
2012, involved the building housing the Marton e Segito school
in Miercurea Ciuc (fig. 91). Constructed between 1909 and 1911
and designed by the architect Sándor Pápai, the building boasts
high quality, both in original conception and in the construction
phase; however, in recent decades, no maintenance work was
done to the building, and this has severely impaired its state of
conservation.
The recovery design was drawn up by the architect Zoltán Máthé
with the collaboration of the architects Csongor György and
Klára Máthé; the main objective consisted of the recovery of the
interior and exterior plaster surfaces, the functional restoration
of the interior environments, the installation of modern
technological plant, the replacement of window fixtures with
others done in accordance with the original drawings, and the
reconstruction of the roof, whose details (clay shingles and zinc
slabs) were also reproduced in keeping with those that had been
conserved.
Archaeology and restoration
In terms of consistency between theoretical reflection and the
design act, a fundamental distinction is to be made between the
interventions done on architectures whose function is recognized
(or otherwise reattributed), and the restorations done in the areas
of archaeological research.
“In Romania,” Mihaela Criticos states, “systematic concern over
the conservation of ruins and over the connected interventions
is relatively recent, which is to say it was manifested only
during the second post-War period. (...) The development of
the restoration activity introduces the programmatic concern
over these monuments, alongside the concept of innovative
restoration, applicable in the cases of inclusion of new
components in historical complexes, and the use of modern
 92. Ruins of the fortified city of
Capidava. Aerial view (photo credit:
Filmarecudrona.ro site).
93. Capidava, reconstruction of the
external wall (photo credit: Filmarec-
udrona.ro site).
94a - 94b. Capidava, reconstruction
of the external wall, details (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015).
72
materials and techniques for the integration of elements known
from documents, but that have disappeared. Several positions or
attitudes in the interventions on the ruins may thus be identified,
from integral or partial reconstruction to the preservation of the
ruin in its current state, and mixed solutions” (Criticos 2012, 188-
189).
The impetus given to excavation activities – which were not
lacking even in the years of the Ceaușescu regime (official
propaganda encourages both archaeological research and the
restoration of ruins, both ancient and Medieval), particularly
given the need typical of totalitarian regimes to seek their own
cultural references in the past – did not find correspondence in an
equally careful operative practice; the practice was often aimed
at assisting the recovery of a (presumed) original uniformity of
the monument, rather than appreciating the changes imposed
upon it by historical evolution. “The fall of communism in 1989
had an ambiguous consequence on the development of urban
archaeology in Romania” (Szabó 2016,35).
As to what is termed “archaeological” restoration, certain age-
old, deeply-rooted trends persist, towards formal, philologically
patterned restoration – when not in fact “free constructions”;
the reasons seem to be settled in that marked sense of formal
continuity continuously sought in the country, and widely
exercised, which in the case of archaeological ruins seems
dangerously anti-historic. These principles and modes of approach
clearly owe a great deal to the cultural reflection developed
(and, consequently, the stylistic orientations adopted) in France.
“Unfortunately, the system that we developed during the past
decades paid not attention to the international evolutions in
matters of cultural heritage (...). There is a lack of debate on the
principles and the actual cases between all those involved in the
research, enhancement, administration and management of
cultural heritage.” (Cătăniciu 2011, 205).
Another primary question is the “purpose” of restoration
interventions in an archaeological setting; the concept is
effectively (albeit probably with excessive rigour) discussed by
73
Sergiu Nistor: “As today European funding is available to Romania importance taken on over the centuries by this imposing
for improving its touristic infrastructure, recently many historic defensive structure situated in the region of Dobrogea, on the
sites were subject of reconstructions. This is not for the benefit of banks of the Danube.
the authenticity and integrity of the built heritage [but] to increas A long excavation campaign anticipated the restoration
touristic’s flux; their common feature is their highly ‘popular’ interventions begun in 2013. However, this considerable
interpretation of the historic remains, an exaggerated accessibility documentary research did not lead to interventions respectful
or the extensive reconstrucion of the ruins” (Nistor 2012, 228). of the historic palimpsest, privileging, rather, a reconstructive
In carrying out the restoration (by no means whatsoever assisted direction (fig. 93) founded upon philological suppositions: the
by an ineffective legislation directed at the protection of historic widespread works to reintegrate the masonry curtains, carried out
settings), the value of the fragment, and the considerations of by adapting the original ashlars to accommodate the restoration
the palimpsest, appear to be underestimated, even though, ones (figg. 94a, 94b), rather than through a shrewd reconstitution
in some cases, documentary research and archaeological work respectful of the positioning planes as well as of the signs
prospecting have pointed in a precise direction; this favours a of the ancient process, no longer allow the fortification’s original
“reliable” reconfiguration, when not a full-blown, typological structures – or the transformations that, over the centuries,
reconstruction, as in the case of the fortified citadel of Capidava “marked” the various phases – to be appreciated; even the
(fig. 92). stone identified for filling the gaps, and the laying and finishing
The imposing ruins still visible today bear witness to the original procedures, betray absolute indifference to values.
CAPIDAVA, CITADEL
Capidava was a fortified city founded by the Dacians around the first century AD in the region known as Dobrogea, between Cernavoda (the old
Axiopolis) and Harsova (lat.: Carsium). During Roman domination, its favourable placement on the bank of the Danube raised Capidava to the role of
strategic fortress for the Empire’s defence.
Conquered and destroyed by the Goths in the third century, the fortification was already restored during the following century; it then became an
Episcopal see. Sources from the fourth through sixth centuries relate that a cavalry unit – Cuneus equitum Solensium – was stationed in Capidava,
bearing witness to the function it still had at that time. The fortification was abandoned after the invasion of the Cutrigori in 559, and was then
rebuilt by the Byzantines in the tenth century. Lastly, in 1036, the fire set off during the siege by the Pechenegs led to its final abandonment.
The citadel-fortress was laid out in a rectangle, 105 by 127 metres, its walls more than two metres in thickness, and five-six metres tall; the
perimeter was defended by seven towers, nearly eleven metres tall (the ones at the vertices of the defensive perimeter were round, and the
intermediate ones were quadrilateral); access was guaranteed by a large, arched door set on the southeastern side. On the side facing the Danube,
a port was obtained. In the northern corner of the fortress, traces were found of a single-nave house of worship with a semicircular apse. Given the
features of its layout, the building may presumably be dated to the sixth century.
 95. Alba Iulia, Porta Principalis (pho- 96. Bucharest, Curtea Veche, ex-
to credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2011). ternal view (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2004).

97. Bucharest, Curtea Veche, under-

ground spaces (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2012).

74 75

What negatively characterizes certain interventions is the irrecoverable by any supposed new research scheme, directed to A similar disinterest in the original material (the “material
articulation in the sense of “pure reconstruction” that fails a complete investigation into the archaeology of the monument. document”) appears to be shown by the project being carried out
to respect the values inherent to the original material: the (…) The appearance of the reconstructed gate is affected not only to recover and valorize the remains of Curtea Veche, in Bucharest
restoration intervention done on the Porta Principalis gate of the by the deficent design, but by the ‘accessories’ too, meant to offer (SC Polarh Design, Bucureşti), project started in April 2018 (figg.
Roman citadel of Alba Iulia consisted only in the slightest degree tourists a more pleasant access: the new shiny-slabs pavement of 96, 97).
of repositioning the stone ashlars brought to light during the the ‘alley’, the wooden railings” (Cătăniciu 2011, 204-205). In this case, which is also identified as one of the city’s main
excavation campaign, relying rather on new elements that may The choice of privileging a “facilitated” reading of the site is and most significant testimonies of identity (already in 1967
be distinguished by their mechanical cut (fig. 95). “We can only explained frankly by Csaba Szabó: “In the last decade, urban the subject of an appreciable intervention of reorganization “as
deplore that the research on the evolution of the camp gate from archaeology in Alba Iulia developed extremely fast; (…) in recent a ruin” by Nicolae Pruncu), it appears clear that the surviving
the earth phase to the late medieval fortress was but superficial. conditions, the local and national authorities seem to be aware masonry fragments, the original structures that were conserved,
(...) The ‘enhancement’ works and the reconstruction of the of the great touristic and economic impact of archaeological more than a “scheme” to be critically interpreted, are, rather,
gate caused the burial of certain information which will remain heritage on modern urban development” (Szabó 2016,38). taken as a pretext for a design exercise without conditioning,
guided exclusively by the desire to assert a contemporary sign.
On the other hand, what emerges from a visit to the Citadel of
ALBA IULIA Suceava (fig. 98) leads to different considerations. For more than
Alba Iulia rises on the site of the ancient city of Apulum (from the prior Dacian toponym Apoulon), a quadrangular castrum founded by the Romans two centuries, the structure was uninhabited, and prolonged
in the second century for the quartering of Legio XIII Gemina, and later destroyed by the Tatars in 1241. abandonment increased its decay. Only in the early twentieth
The clearest testimony of the ancient settlement consisted of the southern gate, called Porta principalis dextra, situated in the southeastern area century did the Austrian architect Karl A. Romstorfer conduct an
of the eighteenth-century fortress; this is the only one of the four main accesses of which there is a trace, although the few remaining vestiges do excavation campaign (1895-1904), followed by the first recovery
not permit a precise reconstruction of its original appearance. It was most likely a double-arched gate, framed by two massive towers seven cannae works focusing on the consolidation of the masonry portions that
(about eight metres) tall; the walls, from both sides, were six metres tall, and measured one canna (2.23 metres) in width. risked collapse.
References More incisive interventions took place between 1961 and 1970,
Olga Bazu, Date Asupra Restaurarii si Transformarii unor Monumente diu Iucinta cetatii Alba Iulia, ‘Revista Muzeelor’, 8, 1, 1969, pp. 66-67.
when works of consolidation and partial reintegration of the
Ioana Bogdan Cătăniciu, Remarks on the restoration and reconstruction of archaeological monuments in Romania, ‘Caiete ARA arhitectura,
restaurare, arheologie’, 2, 2011, pp. 195-207 (202-205).
fortress were undertaken: to prevent the collapse of the masonry
Csaba Szabó, Histories of Urban Archaeology in Alba Iulia (1916-2016), ‘Arhitectura’, 2/2016, pp. 30-40. walls, the decision was made to complete them in part, raising
them several metres, and distinguishing the ancient ruins from

76
the reintegration portions through the insertion of a profile in
light-coloured stone.
The conditions of unstable terrain, which had caused the collapse
of part of the northern front of the defensive perimeter, required
large-scale integrations in the masonry on this side.
The works also involved the underground environments, covered
with a slab of reinforced concrete, and the access bridge, which
was consolidated.
Moreover, during the same phase, the chapel built by Ştefan cel
Mare (Stephen the Great), and part of the masonry perimeter of
Petru Muşat were restored.
The final restoration campaign of the fortress (included in 2004 on
the list of historic monuments of Romania), made possible by EU
funds, was undertaken by Gheorghe Sion in 2010 and completed
in 2014: the outcome outlines a highly “didactic” restoration,
in which the need to introduce elements that facilitated the
visitor’s itinerary, as well as the presence of redundant distinction
elements placed between masonry apparatus belonging
to different construction phases, lead to the monument’s
“museumification” and its re-insertion into the city’s historical
circuit (fig. 99).
On the previous page:
98. Suceava fortress, external view
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2014).
99. Suceava fortress, detail (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2014).
77
SUCEAVA, CITADEL
The Citadel was built in the late fourteenth century by Prince Petru I Muşat (ca. 1375-1391) after he transferred the capital of the Principality of
Moldavia from Siret to Suceava in 1388. The fortress is in fact cited for the first time in a document bearing that date; it is also mentioned in other
Moldavian documents in 1393 and 1395.
The castle was laid out in the shape of a regular quadrilateral, with opposite sides of equal length (the east and west sides measured 40 metres, and
the south and north sides 36); at the corners and on each side, square defence towers were placed. The walls, approximately 2 metres thick, were
of rubble masonry, and inside, wooden beams were placed to contain horizontal stresses. The entrance was placed on the southern side; from here,
the central courtyard and the environments placed along the perimeter were accessed. The sovereign’s apartments were placed on three levels, on
the eastern side; on the ground floor, there was a large hall where the Council of Princes met, covered by a cross vault.
Archaeological research done in the second half of the twentieth century showed that, in addition to the foundation phase, several other
construction phases may be identified; the first may be dated to the fifteenth century, when the fortress was subjected to major improvement
interventions (of the fortified system and of the offensive apparatus) by Ștefan cel Mare (Stephen the Great) who, noting the need to defend the
Principality of Modavia from attacks by Turks, Tatars, and Hungarians, strengthened Moldavia’s defence system: the Citadel was girded by a thick
defensive wall, reinforced with three square towers; moreover, to thwart the collapse of the wall of the defensive moat dug on the eastern side, a
stone counterscarp was built.
In the summer of 1476, the Suceava fortress was besieged by Turkish armies led by the Sultan Mehmed II: the garrison of soldiers placed in
defence of the city, led by Hetman Şendrea, defended itself heroically and the Ottoman armies were forced to withdraw, but the great loss of life
and the damage caused by the enemies demonstrated the vulnerability of the perimeter walls and of the square towers against the latest artillery.
Consequently, in 1477, the second phase of the fortress’s reinforcement was initiated: the sovereign ordered the construction of a perimeter wall,
thicker than the previous one (at least 3.5 metres), defended by seven semicircular towers; moreover, the three square bastions of the first stage
were maintained but lined with curved walls, and the defensive moat was enormously enlarged. The entrance to the fortress was moved to the
northeast. The reinforcements promoted by Ștefan cel Mare were put to the test when the fortress was attacked again, first by the Ottomans (1485)
and then by the Polish armies (1497): in both cases, the defences remained unbreached, demonstrating the effectiveness of the works that were
undertaken. However, a different outcome resulted from the siege conducted in 1538 by the Ottoman army led by Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent,
which ended with the capitulation of the gravely damaged fortress.
In the late sixteenth century, it became the residence of the Princes Aron Vodă (1592-1595), Ştefan Răzvan (1595), and Ieremia Movilă (1595-1606).
In 1596, the last of the three also implemented a programme to fortify the ancient city walls; the works were then continued by Vasile Lupu (1634-
1653) and also extended to the residential environments. However, this was a transitional phase, because the fortress, which in the meantime had
also suffered several seismic events, was definitively destroyed in the second half of the seventeenth century (1675) by Dumitrascu Cantacuzino.
References
Teodor Octavian Gheorghiu, Întercepturile Sucevei medievale, ‘Arhitectura’, 1-6, 1990, pp. 133-146.
Teodor Octavian Gheorghiu, Smaranda Maria Bica, Restitutions: fortified towns at the beginning of the Romanian Middle Ages, București, 2015, pp.
93-116.
 100. Bucharest, str. Lipsacani, reha- 101. Drobeta, ruins of the fortified
bilitation of archaeological ruins of city. Aerial view (photo credit: portal.
Şerban Vodă Inn (photo credit: Ste- primariadrobeda.ro site).
fano D’Avino, 2019).

78
the demands of the other participants in the ruins rehabilitation
process.” (Marcu, 2010)
In particular, the restoration of the archaeological remains at
times takes on the role of an ontological process during which
the needs of conservation and the impetus for knowledge are
joined in the same critical act, as in the case of the Şerban Vodă
Inn site (that is, the underground environments of a building,
now completely demolished, in the centre of Bucharest). Here
the architect Marius Marcus Lapadat has provided a very simple
and potentially reversible solution: metal beams act as a support
for the ancient masonry and also bear the load of a transparent
structural glass roof (fig. 100).
During the same years, also by virtue of a broad opening to the
research in progress in the rest of Europe, a clear implementation
of the debate over the issues of conservation, anastylosis,
79
and valorization of the monuments of ancient and Medieval
archaeology has matured, and this has consequently led to the
assimilation of some contemporary trends. In parallel, although
suffering from inadequate legislation in support of the practice
of protection (Criveanu, 2018), a lively critical dialogue, wholly
new in a discipline at times reluctant to adopt critical and
interpretative tools outside of “tradition,” has developed.
Part of this diversified framework is the interesting intervention
of recovery and conservation of the ruins of one of the towers
of the fifteenth-century Citadel of Drobeta (fig. 101), carried out
as part of the 2007-2013 regional operative programme and
concluded in September of 2015. Here, the need to conserve
the material document, through minimum masonry integrations
carried out for the sole purpose of conserving the building’s
structural integrity, prevailed over the desire to impose large-scale
integrations based on topology, as otherwise done elsewhere.

Over the last decade, the relationship between archaeological
reconnaissance and the conservation process has also changed:
“Always having a part of their history underground, ruins can
only be restituted in their integrity through archaeological
excavations. Taking into account the extreme fragility of these
vestiges, we need to emphasize that ruins must not be dealt with
only in the interest of science, instead they must be included as
soon as possible in a preservation and conservation process (…).
Archaeological research of ruins is not a mere removal of soil to
make them visible, but requires thorough digging, through which
the entire context of the ruin is observed and recorded carefully.
Besides the normal requirements of an archaeological excavation,
the archaeologist must pay attention to the characteristics of
built structures and their relationships, as well as be receptive to
DROBETA, CETATEA
The fortress was built during the early Middle Ages, probably between 1040 and 1095 (reign of King Ladislaus I); this is shown by the analysis of the
materials discovered during the archaeological excavations conducted between 2011 and 2012. The same excavation campaign also brought to light
finds (ceramics, coins, glass containers, etc.) with full analogies in the cultural environment of the thirteenth century, demonstrating how the citadel
underwent major transformations starting from the mid-twelfth century, by the Knights Hospitaller who made their headquarters there until 1259.
Placed on the border – more cultural than geographic – between Catholicism and Orthodoxy, Drobeta was long the ground of military and religious
dispute between the Hungarian Crown, the Bulgarians, and the Wallachian voivodes.
After an initial domination by the Romanian princes of Wallachia, who had made it a defensive stronghold against the attempts at a Tatar invasion
of Danubian territories, in 1419 Drobeta came under the rule of the Kingdom of Hungary. After the fall of Constantinople in 1453, the attacks on the
fortresses on the Danube grew more insistent: in 1524, the citadel was conquered and destroyed by the Turks.
The original fortress extended over a rectangular area; archaeological excavations carried out in 1936 by A. Barchila also bear witness to six
defensive tower, square in layout, and most likely from the fourteenth century. The first fortified enclosure was built in the early fifteenth century;
the second, larger perimeter was built about a century later. The same phase also saw the construction of two artillery bastions. In the Gothic age,
inside the fortification’s “Place d’Armes,” a church was built, using materials drawn from the Roman castrum.

80
Also certainly appreciable is the intervention to arrange and
valorize the remains of Sarmizegetusa Regia (fig. 103), for which
emphasis is to be placed on the rigorous limit that the design,
mainly centred upon conserving the material remains, placed
upon the contemporary inserts, restricted to the necessary works
of protection against improper access to the area.
As to the practice of restoration in archaeological settings, two
other interventions, dissimilar in type but sharing the same intent,
are certainly worth mentioning. That is, developing a protection
system (one temporary, the other semi-permanent) to guarantee
Also worth noting is the careful conservation intervention, archaeological site rich with Roman remains, including an the conservation of fragile architectural testimony: the roof
aimed at eliminating the biological decay that, in 2016, affected aqueduct (built during the time of Hadrian), an amphitheatre, of the wooden church in the Crivina cemetery; and the small
the complex of Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegetusa, an extraordinary numerous temples, and a theatre (fig. 102). archaeological pavilions of Calugareni.
The restoration of the cemetery in Crivina de Sus, a small village
in the county of Timiş, while not among the interventions in this
ULPIA TRAIANA SARMIZEGETUSA disciplinary setting in the strict sense, can be connected with it
Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegetusa was founded on the site of a previous military castrum built by Trajan in around 106 BC, immediately after the conquest due to the primary objective of conservation, as in archaeology,
of Dacia. It was an administrative and financial centre, and seat of the governor of the province with the complete name Colonia Ulpia Traiana of the testimonial value of the matter of the architecture. The
Augusta Dacica Sarmizegetusa; under Antoninus Pius, it was also the seat of concilium Daciarum trium, a sort of religious directive body. Ius italicum, theme that is posed is also highly interesting because it revolves
according to which its citizens were exempted from payment of the land tax, guaranteed to Ulpia Traiana by Septimius Severus in the second around certain questions central to the discipline of restoration:
century, bears witness to its political standing. the inheritance of technical tradition, and the conservation of
Although threatened by Germanic and Sarmatian barbarian tribes originating from eastern Europe (166-180), it maintained its role as the most common identity.
important urban centre (metropolis) of the entire province of Dacia; a position maintained even after the Romans abandoned the Region in 271. The interdisciplinary team was composed of Vladimir Obradovici,
The city in fact began its decline only in the mid-fourth century.
Raluca Rusu, Alexandru Ciobotă, Nicoleta Muşat, Diana Belci, and
References
Dorin Alicu, Restaurarea si conservarea monumentelor romane de la Ulpia Traiana, ‘Revista muzeelor si monumentelor’, 18, 1987, pp. 63-66.
Andrei Condoros; in 2013 the project The Cemetery - Element
in Creating a Cultural Landscape was started. This project, more
On the previous page:
102. Ruins of Sarmizege-
tusa Ulpia Traiana (photo credit:
edițiadedimineăța.ro site).
On the current page:
103. Ruins of Sarmizegetusa Regia
(photo credit: RomaniaJournal.ro
site).
81
than focusing on the “intervention” objective, was aimed at
defining a wholly new proposal of research, theoretical reflection,
and assumption of values, shared between specialists and the
community. To make it possible to carry out the programmed
activity (the earliest studies included: performing a 3D scan
and carrying out an inventory of the wooden components and
of their state of conservation), the temporary placement of a
tensile structure in plastic membrane was planned (fig. 104); this
experiment made it possible to constitute, in parallel with the
start of the restoration work site, a space dedicated to setting up
a small, documentary exhibition of the work phases, as well as the
exposition of what was found during the research in situ. It is also
interesting to observe how this virtuous example of collaboration
among experts from different disciplines had already been
experimented with the year before, as recalled by Dan Mohanu
(Mohanu 2013), in the restoration of the wooden church of Ursi, a
small village in the county of Valcea.
Built between 2013 and 2016, the pavilions of Călugăreni were
built as a temporary exhibition space for the archaeological
site of the Mures County Museum, in Transylvania (figg. 105,
106); the architectural design was done by Gergely Sági, and the
construction saw the whole community take part.
The pavilions’ construction certainly constituted a major
challenge: the underlying theme was in fact centred upon the
ability of contemporary architecture to make a mark in a reality
radically anchored to tradition, in a village where architectural
interventions have always been limited to those imposed by
 104. Wooden church in Crivina de
Sus (photo credit: BNA archive).
82
rdinary maintenance, and the idea of “form” remains the
archetypical one of the house. Supposing that, in that reality, the
main value lies by priority in the relationship with the context
(the true genius loci) while that of “permanence” is summarized
in tradition, the response provided by the project arose from
the assumption of the intervention’s value of temporariness,
mediated by forms as exemplified as possible.
Restoration of frescoes
The restoration of the painted plaster in Romania occupies in a
certain way a more generally “distinct” disciplinary segment of
conservation because of two factors: the significant influence
exercised by the orthodox clergy which was rather inclined to
favour the maintenance of a “continuity” in sacred depictions;
and the attempt to revise a practice consolidated following the
open confrontation of the 1960s and ‘70s due to the relationship
established between the then-head of the Directorate of Historic
Monuments, Vasile Dragut, and Raymond Lemaire, Paul Philippot,
and Laura and Paolo Mora, experts from the International
Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of
105. Temporary archaeological pavil-
ions in Călugăreni (photo credit: BNA
archive).
106. Temporary archaeological pavil-
ions in Călugăreni (photo credit: BNA
archive).
83
Cultural Property (ICCROM). In particular, this second aspect
was a contribution that was certainly not detailed, but rather a
privileged channel for the penetration of advanced theories in
the field of restoration, decisive for guiding operations towards
conserving the palimpsest, attention to prior analyses, the study
of techniques, analysis of the relationship with historiography,
and comparison with the founding principles (reversibility and
material authenticity above all), removing it at least in part from
the commonly pursued goal of formal, mimetic completion. This
shows a split in the theoretical approach from conservation of
architectural assets, which peaked only twenty years later, when
these programmatic assertions were extended to this area as well.
A turning point came in 1989 when the fall of the Communist
regime also ended the legislation on the protection of the historic
and artistic heritage that had “governed” restoration until that
time in accordance with the principles expressed in the Venice
charter, and that had seen the “achievement of a certain balance
between restrictions of historic restoration and a certain creative
dimension of restoration interventions, which made it possible to
fill in the missing parts, [provided that they were] in the style of
 107. Bucharest, Coltea church,
pronao (photo credit: Stefano
D’Avino, 2018).
84
our age (the “manner of our days,” according to Grigoire Ionescu’s
definition)” (Mohanu 2006, 413).
In essence, until the end of the last century, operative practice
appeared split between the direction of “reconstruction/
renovation” done in the vein of the traditional, French-patterned
stylistic line, and the rigorously conservative one (a choice
doubtlessly more congenial to the world of orthodoxy), that
doubtlessly prevailed: the theme of “gaps in the iconic space,
(…) [was an] aspect dealt with in an authoritative fashion by
orthodoxy” (Mohanu 2006, 417).
A sufficiently comprehensive picture, albeit circumscribed to
analysis of the restoration interventions conducted on the
Medieval frescoes in the churches of northern Moldavia, relating
to the problem of aesthetic interpretation and to the consequent
operativity on wall paintings, is outlined by Oliviu Boldura and
Anca Dina in the volume Pictura murala din nordul Moldovei:
modificari estetice si restaurare, published in 2007, which details
the works done, among others, to the church of St. George
in Suceava, to the Arbore and Balinesti churches, and to the
monasteries of Sucevita, Moldovita, Voronet, and Probota.
The outcomes adhering most to the directions of restoration
108. Bucharest, Coltea church, the
restoration of external frescoes (pho-
to credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2018).
109. Bucharest, Coltea church, detail
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2018).
85
as critically understood may certainly include that conducted
on the plastered surfaces of biserica Coltea (fig. 107), a small,
seventeenth-century building in the centre of Bucharest where,
rather than yielding to a renovation by analogy of the lost
decorative part, the restorers opted for a “patchwork” exercise. It
is an intervention capable of favouring the reading of the work as
a whole and, together, exalting the value – aesthetic as well as of
material testimony – of the fragments of original plaster that have
been conserved (figg. 108, 109).
Another example of an operative direction in line with the
considerations of a restoration that (in keeping with the
constructive comparison with Brandi’s line) tends to negate
the reasons of an acritical restoration of the presumed original
formal arrangement, in favour of a restoration that takes on the
characteristics typical of a critical-operative exercise, is the one
led by Dan Mohanu on biserica Doamnei in Bucharest (fig. 110).
The church was damaged on numerous occasions by earthquakes
that struck the country in 1738, in 1802, and again in 1829;
these events were followed by as many repair interventions,
that, however, did not always take account of the original formal
 110. Bucharest, Doamnei church
(photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2017).
86
appearance: in particular, the restoration works done between
1850 and 1860 led to the destruction of the seventeenth-century
frescoes present both within the sacred space and in the porch,
by the Greek painter Constantinos, which were bushhammered
to be adapted to the support substratum for a new painting cycle
in contemporary style, the result of the need to “satisfy” the taste
typical of the time; a cornice in “fake marble” was also inserted
among the various paintings.
In 1868, in place of the original campanile, a wooden structure
was built which, damaged over time, required additional
interventions in 1906.
The church was declared a historic and architectural monument
by the royal decree of 1915; this raised greater interest in the
sacred building, an interest that, in 1921-1923, was translated into
interventions (done by the painter I. Mihail) aimed at recovering
the precious original paintings; these, however, were freed from
the nineteenth-century painting stratum only in the early 1930s,
when the gaps were treated in “neutral tone” in keeping with the
indications dictated by the Athens Charter (1931).
An additional campaign to restore Constantinos’s cycle of frescoes
engaged the Directorate of Cultural Heritage, in collaboration
with the “Nicolae Grigorescu” National Institute of Fine Arts
of Bucharest during the 1972-1976 period. Two years later,
works became necessary to repair the damage caused by the
1977 earthquake; these were, however, exclusively urgent
interventions: during the 1998-2004 period, the church was in
fact again subject to a restoration campaign led by the architect
N. Auner and by the engineer C. Pavelescu, involving both the
interior and exterior plastered surfaces of the church.
The complex restoration works which were concluded several
years ago regarded the church’s entire figurative apparatus.
The choice of removing all the repainting and the homologative
111. Bucharest, Doamnei church, the
restoration of the frescoes (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2017).
87
retouching done over the course of the previous restorations, as landscape.
well as the intervention of filling in the gaps (figg. 111, 112), done Still latent today in the church is the problem of the rising capillary
with techniques of veiling and hatching in order to privilege the dampness that may be ascribed at least in part to the decayed
figurative palimpsest (similarly to what had already been done plaster; nor has the closure of the pronaos, which was done
by Mohanu himself to the diaconicon of the Pitesti Buna-Vestire recently, significantly increased the possibility of countering
church several years earlier), mark what may today be reasonably this phenomenon, thereby resulting, instead, in a diminished
considered one of the most successful examples on the Romanian perception of space.
BUCHAREST, BIS. DOAMNEI
Biserica Doamnei, now hidden from view by an anonymous block of dwellings constructed during the regime of Nicolae Ceauşescu, was built in
1683 on the site where a wooden church earlier rose, erected in memory of the Christians’ victory in the Turkish siege of Vienna, when Polish King
John III Sobieski defeated Kara Mustafa. It was an episode that marked the start of the fall of Turkish domination in Europe. The place takes its name
from the second wife of Serban Voda Cantacuzino (1678-1688).
The original type corresponded to a single-environment model, commonly adopted in that historic phase. The base and capital are carved with
decorative motifs of oriental origin. At the entrance to the narthex is a rich door carved with floral motifs, topped by an inscription bearing the date
of construction and an eagle bearing a cross, the coat of arms of the Danubian Principality of Wallachia.
In the second half of the seventeenth century, Constantin Brancoveanu completed the construction, adding the porch in front, marked on the
façade by five arches held up by octagonal columns (the capitals and bases of which are carved with decorative motifs of oriental influence), while
laterally, the arches are two per side.
The interior is characterized by a pronaos, topped by a lowered cloister vault set on four arches; a wall upon which three arches resting on
polylobate columns are opened divides this space from the hall covered by a cupola in accordance with an innovative concept of organization of
space and volumetric composition that, in this Region, characterizes late-eighteenth-century religious buildings, outlining what was defined as
“Brancoveanu style.” A painted iconostasis leads into the semicircular apse space.
References
Dan Moanu, A Cantacusine foundation between the act of secularization and contemporary restoration. The Doamnei Church in Bucharest, ‘Caiete
ARA arhitectura, restaurare, arheologie’, 8, 2017, pp. 145-164.
 112. Bucharest, Doamnei church, Another aspect, among the most important, of the theoretical
detail (photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, legacy originating from comparison with the European school
2017)..
alluded to earlier, that emerges by analyzing the current “state
of the art” of the restoration of figurative artworks in Romania,
is the appeal to interdisciplinariness; to collaboration aimed
at the preventive activity of the monument’s case history; to
iconographic and stylistic study; to technological analysis on the
nature and the state of conservation of the materials employed in
the paintings; to monitoring the microclimate; and to identifying
the factors of decay. (cf. Mohanu, 2013)
These activities of research and preventive analysis are entrusted
to specialists in scientific disciplines who are more and more
88 frequently called upon to corroborate the design hypothesis
even when the restoration regards works of architecture – to
be sure, well aware of the central importance of the architect’s
critical exercise: “There is a major difference between applying
certain prescriptions as guiding or open to interpretation, and
applying them on a literal basis. Scientific studies are of great
help in identifying the limits to the possible uses of various sets
of standards when evaluating, designing, and implementing
interventions on historic buildings” (Makay, Sándor, 2015).
Conclusions
In brief, Romania has been witnessing a restoration practice that
is doubtlessly not always coherent, and in which respect for the
historic and documentary value, and attention to the aesthetic
attribute of the work, the outcome of careful critical assessment
and a profound under standing of the structure, sometimes
alternate with clear alterations of the historical and formal
context.
The framework that has been outlined has cast light on a
multitude of approaches to conservation that, along with the
albeit widespread trend towards recovery and restoration
by analogy - partly justified by “spiritual factor: the quest for
the religious continuity and the need for the completion of
liturgical space” (Nistor 2012, 230) - reveals a contextual will to
overcome the traditional theoretical arrangement of the late
nineteenth century, to take on a practice that descends from a
careful, preventive historical and critical reading that favours the
conservation of the work’s testimonial values.
After a phase lasting about twenty years after the fall of the
Ceaușescu regime, during which the restoration interventions,
and even more, the debate around the discipline, continued to be
affected by the cultural climate that had characterized the country
until 1989, the recovery of attention towards architectural
historiography and the influence of the most widespread theories
of restoration that were manifested towards the end of the
twentieth century, produced a profound change in disciplinary
practice.
“In spite of the economic difficulties and numerous other
obstacles, it may be stated that in the post-1990 period, the
activity of conserving and restoring monuments as historic sites
has been resumed, and in fact strengthened, albeit rarely with
satisfactory results. Investment, for the most part originating
from private parties, has, out of preference, been guided towards
urban sites [given their greater visibility] (…) rather than towards
rural ones (…) and have regarded both vestiges brought to light
on the occasion of works for the construction or modernization of 89
some infrastructure, and architectural complexes that have been
preserved as ruins in historic centres” (Criticos 2012, 209). At the
same time, “Romanian cities, and Bucharest first and foremost,
(…) have undergone a continuous and progressive process of
“ruinization.” The proliferation and subsequent demolition of
these “premeditated” ruins has constituted (and still results
in) the ruin of collective conscience itself, [which is crushed]
beneath the artificial and ephemeral crust of a totally new and
depersonalized environment, deprived of the noble presence of
the past.” This condition has brought about “a legitimate reaction
in the collective conscience, and has contributed towards the
outlining of a coherent recovery programme, carried out with
professionalism, sensitivity, and responsibility, with respect for
the memory of the place, but also with regard to the community’s
present and future” (Ibidem, 212).
During the same period, Romania initiated in fact a large-scale
programme aimed at recovering and safeguarding its cultural
heritage (Opris, 2003); in spite of this, it appears wholly clear that
the country is still suffering from a partially incomplete regulatory
framework, as well as from the lack of a solid structure of national
protection, endowed with the indispensable legal and regulatory
instruments and capable of imposing constraints, programming,
and guiding the necessary interventions for a proper restoration
policy.
A positively characterizing factor was the relative protection of
Romanian historic and architectural heritage from the intrusion
of demands normally outside of conservation, largely introduced
in other European countries, such as the intensive exploitation of
historic and architectural heritage for tourism purposes; (except
for isolated cases) this has fortunately made it possible thus far to
conserve these remnants more than elsewhere.
A principle characteristic of conservative practice in Romania is
 attention to the protection of the vernacular heritage. It is an
interest “inspired by the philosophy of the ICOMOS Declaration
signed in Quebec in 2008, which led to the definition of a didactic
model of integrated research for the safeguarding of the cultural
heritage of minor settlements; [a study protocol] that was trialled
in the village of Bucium, county of Alba, [with the objective]
of studying, inventorying, and drafting an index of vernacular
architecture. The recovery of rural heritage in situ, understood as
an identity value of the community, is thus taken on as a sound
alternative for sustainable local development” (Hărmănescu 2018,
137; translation from Romanian by the author).
In this setting we have been more and more frequently witnessing
90 the affirmation of formal models drawn from tradition but
outlined through the adoption of modern technologies and
materials: a substantial re-proposition of the archetypes of the
past, articulated in accordance with contemporary modes. The
supervening permeability to critical stimuli originating from the
European world has inevitably led to openings, being expressed
in points, to the planning dialogue between the pre-existing
element and the modern grafting, the outcome of wholly new
theoretical reflections on restoration, understood as a prevalent
cultural problem. This leads the intervention into a setting that is
the one typical (albeit with results that are at times contradictory,
when the aspiration for an unconditional creativity prevails, thus
penalizing the considerations of the pre-existing element) of the
recognition and conservation of the work’s authenticity, of the
figurative and material compatibility of the new with the old.
Lastly, Kazmer Kovacs’s lucid analysis takes into consideration
the attention to the work’s indissoluble relationship with the
context: “The integrated conservation of the built heritage,
beyond its technical implications, involves maintaining historical
monuments as inhabited buildings, preserving their precious
characteristics that qualify them to be classified as cultural
heritage, and to be consequently protected. If we are unable
to maintain this fragile balance, all that can be achieved is the
conservation of the beautiful, empty shell of an architecture left
by the inhabitants, or the risk of those modern values – aesthetic,
historic, or commemorative – that the classification has proposed
for preserving them from the beginning.
The question is obviously current. With its conceptual, technical,
or economic difficulties far from being resolved, cultural
heritage is grappling with new dilemmas, due to the social and
anthropological components, but also the more acute one of its
hypertrophy during the last decades of the twentieth century.
(…) A global and complex approach to the field, by corroborating
various territories of knowledge and practice, would suffice for
transferring the concerns for our heritage to the more generous
and profitable terrain of environmental contextualization. Here,
the reconstruction and conservation of monuments might be
brought together with a reformulated competence to be built”
(Kovacs, 2018, Italian translation from Romanian by the author).
The project outcomes and the lively and fruitful debate going on
in the Country therefore imply that a constructive and dynamic
path of elaboration is in progress in Romania, around the theme
of restoration, not necessarily faithfully circumscribable within a
not better identified “European vein,” but, rather, autonomously
developed, and with current critical tools, but still anchored to the
foundations of a tradition of solid design exercise.
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 MINEFIELDS.
ON THE AUTHENTICITY OF HISTORICAL BUILDINGS
Kázmér KOVÁCS
94
The following text resumes, and improves, a paper published
in the issue 2/2015 of Transsylvania Nostra, journal for the
conservation of built heritage
In December 1994, an international conference was held in Nara,
Japan,1 on the topic of authenticity in relation to the practices of
historical building conservation and restoration, the only meeting
of this kind dedicated exclusively to the issue of authenticity.
It is worth noting that in more than two decades there has
been no significant progress on the matter. The international
documents that have been drafted and adopted in the meantime
with the intention of regulating good heritage practices, make
customary reference to the criterion of authenticity2 without,
however, contributing to further elucidation of the matter. The
final document of the Nara conference3 itself brings little light on
this intricate subject. The very concept of authenticity remains
vague, making reference to the Charter of Venice, where the
term appears only twice and in marginal contexts4. Still less light
is shed on the problem’s core issue: what specific relevance
may authenticity have as an evaluating criterion in the field of
conservation and restoration of historical buildings?
Taking the authenticity component within the value of historical
buildings as something self-evident, as it frequently happens in
debates within the field of built heritage, leads only to eluding the
necessary inquiries meant to elucidate the essential aspects of
this issue.
The contribution offered by Françoise Choay at the Nara
conference on authenticity5 tackles the matter precisely in
this sense, by arguing convincingly that, at least with respect
to historical buildings, the concept of authenticity in the
affirmative sense can only have limited relevance, otherwise
risking absurdity – a construction is by its own nature subject to
alteration due to mere use – or having a fetishist approach to
the object itself that transfers the identity function (immaterial
in essence) on the physical medium: “[...] while acquiring the
status of theoretical and practical discipline in the 19th century,
the restoration of historical buildings has transposed the concept
of authenticity from the fields of archaeology and art history into
its own operations without taking the necessary precautions”6.
Consequently, when “used in the perverted meaning of material
and morphological accordance with fictitious originals, the notion
of authenticity can only be functional in the fields of conservation
and restoration if absolutely necessary, in a marginal and relative
way.”7 We may rather consider, concludes Choay, the relevance
of inauthenticity in cases of infringement. In other words,
paradoxically, the authenticity of historical buildings is mainly
revealed when is lacking. It is so much part of the substance of
the historical buildings that it cannot be dissociated from them:
in the absence of authenticity, the essence of the meaning of
historical buildings is annihilated.
As far as the materiality of an immovable piece of heritage is
concerned, Choay insists on the difference between works of
painting and sculpture on the one hand, and of architecture
on the other. She cites the already famous example of the
ritual reconstruction of Shinto shrines in Japan. In this country
it is the craftsmanship of the artisans carrying out the ritual
reconstruction that is protected as a national heritage asset
and not the erected buildings themselves. Thus, “the symbolic
circumstances are more important than the conservation of the
same material support”8.
By acknowledging the arguments of Choay in the mentioned
paper, the inquiries on the concept of authenticity move to the
domain of the significance of built heritage, whose multiplicity
and diversity, however, imposes solutions to be always sought
On the previous page:
1. Frauenkirche, Dresden
The ruins have been conserved for
half a century as a monument to
the war.
On the current page:
2. Church of the Holy Apostles, Co-
logne.
Reconstructed along with other
eleven Romanesque churches in the
old town, it was partly destroyed in
spring 1945 during the bombings of
the Allies.
95
for in each particular case. The argument is thus shifted to the
foremost function of historical buildings, namely their memorial
quality.
The Frauenkirche in Dresden provides a very suitable example
for this argument. The recent rebuilding of this edifice, which
for half a century seemed doomed to remain preserved as
a ruin (fig. 1), reopens the debate on the authenticity – and
implicitly the legitimacy – of this extreme kind of conservation
for historical buildings. Until relatively recently, the only kind of
reconstruction considered to be acceptable (in terms of doctrine
and by the criterion of authenticity) was anastylosis. According
to the glossary put forward by Brandi9, the prerequisite of this
process is the existence of original elements reassembled in situ
with minimal completions of modern materials and structure,
necessary only to ensure solidity, and a restitution limited to
suggest the entire building’s spatiality as faithfully as possible.
Yet, an impressive number of reconstructions were undertaken
in the years following World War II. They were the result of
the unprecedented scope of destructions caused by the war,
as well as the wish of communities to reconstruct the urban
environments that used to define the identity of the devastated
places. This is how a part of Warsaw’s old town was rebuilt10,
as were the most significant Romanesque churches in Cologne
(fig. 2). The very uneven quality of these reconstructions and the
relative novelty of certain large heritage ensembles have resulted
in their perception as elements in the mnemonic topography of
the respective communities rather than as representations of
exceptional buildings of the past; much more than a copy, but
much less than the original11.
The Frauenkirche, standing in a city located in the eastern Soviet
Bloc part of Germany until the country’s reunification, was
reconstructed only at the turn of the millennium, more than
 3. Frauenkirche, Dresden. Fig. 5. Hagia Sophia, Istanbul.
Photo credit: Heike Tüllmann Photo credit: Loránd Kiss
Its rebuilding marks symbolically the The enormous masses of masonry
reunification of Germany and re- and the arch between them support
stores an important urban landmark a perforated drum, heavily strength-
to the city. ened with a crown of buttresses.

4. Frauenkirche, Dresden. 6. Hagia Sophia, Istanbul.

Photo credit: Heike Tüllmann Photo credit: Loránd Kiss
The fragments of the original build- The massive structure is invisible
ing, visible on the facade, support from the inside. The dome seems to
the authenticity of the reconstructed be floating above the light penetrat-
edifice, while also being a reminder ing the drum.
of the previous ruin.
7. Basilica of Saint Francis, Assisi.
96 Photo credit: Florina Pop 97
half a century after the end of the war. The context was quite The reconstructed vault with the
lacunae marking the missing fresco
different from that surrounding the reconstructive impulses of fragments.
the 1950s, but still somewhat similar, as it followed the conclusion
of the Cold War. Different were also the available technical
and financial means, far superior, as well as the thoroughness
of the preliminary studies (fig. 3). Therefore, the result of the
reconstruction may be considered better in architectural terms,
as well as – and most of all – regarding the authenticity of the
resulting edifice as successor of the Baroque building destroyed in
the bombings of February 13 and 15, 194512.
The reconstructed church includes original fragments that have
remained in situ and are visible on the building’s facade (fig. 4).
Hence, although today the historical building evokes primarily
the older history of the city through its dominant silhouette in
the square and its old and blackened stones, it also reverberates
with the more dimmed echo of the disaster, to which the ruined
church stood for as a monument for half a century. By such
a reading, the area of relevance of the authenticity criterion
expands from the preserved historical “substance” to the material a millennium before the invention of the historical monument in murals, even though extremely careful, cannot aspire anymore to
presence of the reconstructed edifice. Completed in 2005, it is the Europe16, the main criteria taken into account were architectural a level of authenticity equivalent to that preceding the disaster.
faithful copy of a destroyed original, but it also fulfils its function and symbolic (fig. 6), and our idea of the authenticity of historical The marks left by the brushes of Giotto and Cimabue inevitably
as a memorial to the epoch when the building that collapsed at buildings had no relevance whatsoever. It follows that the overlap with the traces left by the skill and painstaking work of
the end of the war was erected13, and as a historical monument to authenticity of historical buildings is in turn a cultural concept, the multitude of restorers, visible by the white lacunae between
the bombings that wiped from the face of the earth most of the being entirely dependent on context. the tens of thousands of fragments of painted plaster recovered
old town of Dresden. When the artistic function of a historical building is predominant, and reset on the upper basilica’s new vault (rebuilt similar to
It is useful to draw a brief comparison with the rebuilding of the it is clear that the importance of maintaining its original support the old one). The digital techniques used to recompose this
Hagia Sophia14 Cathedral in Constantinople, which collapsed plays a proportionate importance in the conservation strategy giant puzzle, as well as the adhesive materials synthesized by
following a series of major earthquakes (in the years 553, 557 (preservation, consolidation and restoration). It is, for instance, the chemical industry of the end of the second millennium, are
and 558). The dome’s reconstruction and the consolidation of its the case of the Basilica of Saint Francis in Assisi, maimed by now added to the techniques applied a fresco in the early 14th
load-bearing structure, completed in the year 562, were carried the earthquake in 1997. Part of the vault of the upper basilica century.
out without any concern for the precise reproduction of the collapsed, killing four people and turning the frescoes of Giotto Certainly, over time, the restoring intervention itself will become
destroyed architecture15. (fig. 5) There can be no doubt: almost and Cimabue into rubble. The reconstitution of the destroyed part of the history of those paintings17, and the extension of their
 Fig. 8. Eiffel Tower, Paris
The gigantic steel structure needs
continuous repainting against cor-
rosion.
98
existence will compensate the fact that their full authenticity was
diminished, lost irreversibly alongside their original integrity (fig.
7).
The most recent cleaning and restoration of the frescoes of the
Sistine Chapel in Rome (1984-1994) is relevant in this context for
different reasons. When stating that “the planing suffered [by
Michelangelo’s frescoes] during their recent restoration” resulted
in them becoming “a sort of fake or a memento”18, Choay’s
position, seems somewhat exaggerated. Nevertheless, one cannot
overlook the prevalence of a criterion that is anti-aesthetic and
barely acceptable in terms of its value of ancientness, i.e. the
decision of not to remove, together with the cleaning of all the
other layers accumulated over the original fresco (dust, soot, and
repainting or attempts of restoration), the veils added to hide the
genitalia of the characters in the Last Judgment. The situation’s
piquancy is enhanced by the fact that the conservation was
finished at about the same time when the conference in Nara was
being prepared.
Yet one cannot talk, without the risk of becoming an object
of ridicule, about the possible inauthenticity of the regular
repainting of a rusting Eiffel Tower (fig. 8), or about the
fraudulency of re-carving the rotten timber in the structure of
vernacular buildings – however important these may be: the
wooden church spire in Şurdeşti, for instance. Such reasoning
could be refined by estimating the percentage of the replaced
items; the substance of the issue remains nonetheless the
same: the replacement of damaged building parts with pieces
made from the same material and using the same techniques is
necessary and legitimate in order not to endanger the stability of
the erected structures or the existence of the historical building.
A spectacular example, which supports the above-stated, is the
recent restoration (1995-2007) of the Grand Palais exhibition
pavilion in Paris (fig. 9), where the replacement of the entire glass
roof needed the invention of new fastening and sealing details
pertaining to the most advanced construction techniques (fig.
10)19. The building that resulted from this kind of intervention is
no less authentic in any sense, as its memorial essence remains
intact, even if its material substance is partially renewed.
Furthermore, the addition of new values (of integrity or use) is
so significant that it outshines most of the possible reservations
concerning technical solutions.
Identifying the relevance of authenticity as an intangible core of a
particular historical building, and its delimitation as accurately as
possible, constitutes a step of utmost importance in research. The
mode and the measure, in which authenticity becomes manifest
in each particular case can indicate with some precision the
conservation and restoration strategies to be followed.
On the contrary, ignoring the specific field of relevance
of authenticity opens wide the door to excesses in two
directions: both the risk of fetish preservation (in the case of an
indiscriminate retention of material substance), and the risk of
modernizing destructions (on behalf of redefining the functions
or of renewed equipment) become hardly avoidable. Fetish
preservation leads to a lifeless, museum-like conservation of
historical buildings, with effects that can be as destructive as
those of a reckless technical-structural-hygienist modernisation.
The fact that the two decades that have elapsed since the
Nara Conference on the authenticity of historical buildings
have witnessed the continuing and strengthening of trends
already visible in heritage theory and practice, but not on the
level of establishing general rules regarding the authenticity of
conservation interventions, shows that the debate surrounding
this controversial subject is as necessary now as it was then.
Therefore, the set of rules regarding interventions of conservation
Fig. 9. Grand Palais, Paris
The cast iron structure, reminiscent
of eclectic decoration, seems an em-
bodiment of Viollet-le-Duc’s theories.
Fig. 10. Grand Palais, Paris
The glass dome reiterates – in an
industrial version and for a modern
programme – the classical themes of
monumental architecture.
99
and restoration, established by Cesare Brandi20 depending on Pour une anthropologie de l’espace, Paris, Seuil, 2006, pp. 255-285, with the
an aesthetic context, and the fine nuances differentiating the title: “Le concept d’authenticité en question”.
6
Ibidem, p. 260.
architectural work in relation to the artwork in general, are still 7
Ibidem, p. 262.
pertinent today. On the question of authenticity, however (which 8
Ibidem, p. 273.
does not constitute an issue in its own right within Brandi’s work, 9
Cesare Brandi, Teoria del restauro, Torino, Einaudi, 1977; Romanian
even if it returns implicitly or explicitly in his discourse), the most translation: Teoria restaurării, Bucharest: Meridiane, 1996, p. 207.
9
As an exception from the rule, the case of integral post-war reconstructions
accurate indication is perhaps in the way of his unambiguous was also acknowledged by Gustavo Giovannoni, apud Gheorghe Curinschi-
reference to the artwork’s material consistency as being the sole Vorona, Arhitectură, urbanism, restaurare (Bucharest: Editura Tehnică, 1999),
object of the conservation21. The essence of the work, untouched, pp. 144-145.
must remain intangible.
10
Nazi combat engineers had methodically reduced Warsaw to 80 million cubic
metres of rubble; from 25,489 building standing before the war only 1,223 have
Inherent to its authenticity, the memorial significance of a remained, about 5% of the building stock. The reconstruction of the centre
historical building must be spared by any intervention for (inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage list in 1980) was finished in 1956. Cf.
its conservation or restoration. In each particular case the Kacper Kužnicki, “The Authenticity of the Reconstructed Old Town of Warsaw: A
boundaries of the memorial significance circumscribe the domain Reflection”, e-conservation Journal 1 (2013): 24-33, http://www.e-conservation.
org/issue-1/16-the-authenticity-of-the-reconstructed-old-town-of-warsaw
of relevance of the idea of authenticity. Ignoring those boundaries (accessed July 13, 2015).
brings about the irretrievable loss of heritage values, respectively 12
At the beginning, the population of Dresden thought that the church had
the lessening or the disappearence of a historical building’s resisted the Allied bombings. The dome collapsed two days later, due to the
authenticity. dislocation of the supporting structure.
13
It was erected between 1726 and 1743, on the plans of municipal architect
Georg Bähr.
NOTES 14
The main place of worship in the capital city of the eastern Christianity (until
1
The place for the event could hardly have been better chosen: Nara had been the Ottoman conquest) was built between 532 and 537 at the order of Emperor
the capital city of the Japanese Empire for most of the 8th century and boasts Justinian.
spectacular built heritage. 15
Zoltán SZENTKIRÁLYI, Az építészet világtörténete 2, Budapest, Képzőművészeti
2
This is also the case of the European Landscape Convention, adopted by the Alap, 1980, p. 24.
Council of Europe in 2000, which, although landscape is not by any means 16
Françoise Choay, L’allégorie du patrimoine, Paris, Seuil, 1992).
similar to built heritage, applies to the landscaping rules established within the 17
It is a similar statement to that given at the moment of questioning
domain of built heritage. Cf. Kázmér Kovács, “Un peisaj convenţional”, Secolul the authenticity of the old, reconstructed centre of Warsaw: “It is the
21 – CINCIZECI, 12/2011, pp. 209-215. reconstruction itself that has the ‘outstanding universal value’ and is authentic
3
The Nara Document on Authenticity, § 10, on the ICOMOS website, https:// itself.” Kacper Kužnicki, op. cit., p. 32.
www.icomos.org/charters/nara-e.pdf [accessed on July 31st, 2017]. 18
Françoise Choay, “Le concept d’authenticité en question”, p. 262
4
“The Venice Charter,” in Sergiu Nistor, Protecţia monumentelor şi 19
Bernard Marrey, Le Grand Palais. Sa construction, son histoire, Paris: Picard,
ansamblurilor istorice în documente internaţionale, p. 55 et seq. 2006, p. 128.
5
A revised version of her intervention (original title: “Sept propositions sur 20
Cesare Brandi, op. cit.
le concept d’authenticité et son usage dans les pratiques du patrimoine 21
Ibidem, e.g. pp. 37, 40, et seq.
historique”) was published in a volume collecting articles by Françoise Choay,
 CONTEMPORARY INTERVENTION IN HISTORIC AREAS. THE CASE OF ROMANIA
Mihaela CRITICOS
100
… non cerco il nuovo, ma l’adatto (Vittorio Gregotti)
Most present-day cities are sedimentary structures, historically
developed by expansion and renewal. Their successive layers
may have remained distinct, but generally interpenetrated,
overlapped or replaced one another like a palimpsest, leading to
conglomerates of heterogeneous elements, often contrasting or
contradictory.
However, in the traditional, pre-industrial city changes were
occurring organically, as natural processes that were not affecting
its unity and coherence – qualities that originated in the symbolic
image of cosmic order that was assigned to the urban settlements
from their very appearance. Conversely, the modern, industrial
age, while allowing the city to develop and modernize, brought
along anarchy, conflict and breach between old and new - in
consonance with its predilection for disruption against continuity,
and revolution against evolution. The relentless capitalism of
the 20th century, along with the free urbanism of the CIAM
augmented the antagonisms of the late 19th century post-liberal
city, and the decisional town planning of the socialist regimes
further amplified the process of disintegrating the urban fabrics
inherited from the past.
In the 1970s, when the idea of extending the conservation
principles from the individual monument to entire urban areas
was crystallizing in the Western world and even in the Eastern Bloc
(e.g., in Czechoslovakia and Poland), the era of the demolitions
was about to begin in Romania, followed after 1989 by savage,
anarchic developments dictated by individual interests, which
managed to destroy more heritage values than Ceaușescu’s
bulldozers.
In the context of today’s growing awareness and concern for
values such as memory, tradition, and cultural identity, neglected
or eliminated from the agenda of modernity - mainly during
its canonical stage represented by radical modernism -, one
can observe, in Romania too, a generalized tendency towards
the recovery of the coherence and organic complexity of the
traditional city, along with its livability. This is why the nature of
last century’s architectural and urban interventions in historic sites,
along with their impact upon cities, became a major issue within
the debate on the old/new relationship, marked by the opposition
between an increased sensitivity for the built heritage and the
pressure of real estate interests, between conservatives and
liberals, civic activists and developers.
Ranging from the remodeling and extension of existing structures
to insertions of new buildings and art installations, and from the
redesign of public spaces to the revitalization of old neighborhoods
or districts, the interventions in historic sites ought to be regarded
as works of urban restoration, destined primarily to conserve or
recover, enhance and renew the “spirit of place”, its identity and
meaning.
To understand, preserve and revive the genius loci through
insertions of the new is a far more difficult and delicate task than
to conserve the original materiality, which for a single historic
building is valuable both in itself and as a support of its meaning.
Urban restoration, in its search for the authenticity of the spirit
rather than the authenticity of the historic substance, requires a
more sensitive, ingenious and complex approach than building
restoration. As Christian Norberg-Schulz wrote, “to protect and
conserve the genius loci in fact means to concretize its essence
in ever new historical contexts”1. Actually, architecture itself is
generally supposed “to understand the ‘vocation’ of the place”, “to
gather the properties of the place and bring them close to man”2,
as well as to invest the existent with new or renewed meanings3.
But this defining aim of the architectural gesture is all the more
vital for interventions in historic areas, where the genius loci
comes from the delicate equilibrium of successive layers and its
essence lies in the intricate web of significations that time, people
and their memory have woven around.
Inserting new elements in a historic context entails, beyond the
understanding of its spirit and an inherent reverence for the past,
a sort of creativity capable of conceiving the new as value added
to the existent, and as a beneficial contribution to the dialogue
between past and present. A project in a historic site is limited
by obvious constraints, but is at the same time more challenging
architecturally and more stimulating than building unrestrictedly
on a vacant land. In effect, the most exciting and successful
examples of contemporary architecture are interventions
in historic environments. And the fact that most of today’s
architectural and urban design projects have to act within historic
areas and fabrics is a real chance for architects to develop their
inventiveness.
Undoubtedly, each historic locus in a city is a particular case
which demands a specific method of analysis and a specific
attitude. Therefore, the approaches and strategies of intervention
vary according to a multiplicity of factors and have to take into
account the interaction between the diverse components of the
ensemble, each having its own physical and evocative properties,
but together creating a new characteristic – the singular identity
of the place. Theoretically, one can establish distinct approaches
to the old/new relationship, already categorized and inventoried
in specialized publications, mainly regarding building restoration4 -
but in practice their definition is vague and diffuse.
Most of the categories and sub-categories of interventions in
the field of building restoration can also be applied to the larger
scale of urban restoration, as the relation between old and new
components in a restored building is analogous to the relation
101
between the insertion and its context in a historic area. Also,
restoration interventions upon single buildings or public spaces,
when comprising major additions of new components, can have a
notable impact upon their surrounding area and thus equate to (or
at least initiate) operations of urban restoration.
According to the pursued relationship between old and new,
the interventions clearly meant to properly relate to the existent
might be grouped, on a gradual scale from the similar to the
dissimilar, in the broader categories designated in musical terms
as consonance, counterpoint and dissonance5 . In a more
refined classification, the spectrum of options would range from
reconstitution, mimicry and neutrality (as levels of consonance),
through analogy and interpretation of the context (as counterpoint
formulae), to opposition and contrast (as manifestations of
dissonance). Total contradiction leading to conflict and collision,
as well as indifference and self-sufficiency, all resulting from a
complete disregard for the context, are not to be considered
as valid categories when speaking about a responsible attitude
towards the built environment – although it is unfortunately all too
frequently encountered in common practice.
The general categories of old/new relationships - identified
above as consonance, counterpoint and dissonance - cannot be
firmly delimited in architecture and sometimes in music either:
harmony decidedly governs the first two, but dissonance can also
create a novel kind of harmony. The same goes with the types
of interventions and intervention methods, which, except for
reconstitution and pastiche, usually overlap.
In order to make the most appropriate choice among the possible
modalities of approaching the old/new relationship, an important
question to be answered is the status granted to the intervention,
its “leading or supporting role”6 or, in terms of Gestalttheorie, its
condition of figure or [part of the] ground within the reference

102
field represented by the surrounding townscape7. Thus, if the
urban ensemble contains a major historic monument or public
space, which in visual terms owns the dominating status of a
figure, the intervention should steer towards consonance as a
formula of accompaniment and subordination to the dominant,
becoming part of a more neutral ground. Conversely, if the
insertion is meant to become a landmark for an urban area with
a diffuse historical value, one might opt towards dissonance as
a positive, controlled contrast that distinguishes the new figure
from its backdrop. In such situations, a hierarchical ordering of the
various components and of their meanings is necessary for the
unity and legibility of the whole.
On the other hand, as in musical counterpoint there are no soloists
and accompanists, and all the melodic lines are equally important,
so in architecture the new insertion and the existent can find
themselves on the same plane and establish a dialogue between
peers – corresponding, in terms of Gestalt theory, to the reversible
figure/ground relationship, in which the comparable parts of the
whole can be alternatively perceived as figure or ground8. In the
formula of counterpoint, old and new have common or analogous
characteristics that guarantee the unity of the composition, yet
their treatment and interpretation are clearly differentiated, thus
ensuring the legibility of the ensemble and the distinction of its
parts. When distinction becomes contrast, counterpoint will turn
into dissonance, which allows a more emphasized presence of the
insertion and proposes a more special type of harmony – provided
that the contrast of old and new does not lead to incompatibility
and conflict.
The present text will try to identify and critically analyze these
types of approaches in the Romanian practice of intervention in
historic areas, without pretending to draw up a comprehensive
panorama of the phenomenon. But first, a few clarifications would
be necessary for an overall view of the Romanian realities.
Romanian post-socialist towns, especially in the extra-Carpathian
territory and with Bucharest as incontestable champion, inherit
and amplify a disorder that is not always picturesque or pleasing,
given by the discontinuities of the urban fabric, morpho-
typological and stylistic heterogeneity, juxtaposed legacies of
various periods, cultures and models proving no visible concern for
creating transitions, articulations or interweavings.
Disorder, arbitrariness and unpredictability seem to be part of the
genius loci, often encouraged, surprisingly, by legislation and the
public administration, mainly when promoting urban development
and modernization. For instance, Bucharest’s Regulation for
Buildings and Alignments from 1928, which gave priority to the
economic factor and allowed building height to exceed the street
width, explains the numerous blind walls of interwar high-rise
apartment or office buildings which abut and aggressively contrast
with one or two-storey houses from the previous decades.
Also surprisingly, but in a converse, agreeable way, one can find
examples of highly coherent urban areas built up in successive
periods, the last one being the 1960s – a stage which was
still mindful of the urban environment. Post-war modernism,
matured in the wake of the International Style, allowed effortless
integration with earlier buildings belonging to various historic
styles – due to its repetitive, orthogonal patterns which turn it
into an accommodating backdrop or interlocutor for any morpho-
typological formula and stylistic idiom, and particularly for
classicism by virtue of their common rationalist fundamentals. In
the “Art Collections Piazzetta”, located in the center of Bucharest
on its main historical artery, Calea Victoriei (Victory Avenue), two
prestigious 19th century neo-classical palaces, together with a
masterpiece of the late 1930s classicizing modernism and a 1950s
office building treated in a sober socialist-realist classicism (both
authored by notorious architects of the period), are perfectly
complemented by three modernist apartment buildings from
the late 1950s - early 1960s (fig. 1). Also, on the same avenue
(Calea Victoriei), the refined brickwork and pure volumes of the
18th century Kretzulescu Church are highlighted by a classicizing
ensemble composed of three edifices of the 1930s (the Royal
Palace, a governmental building and the Kretzulescu office
building) and one of the 1950s, their noble ordonnance being
echoed in the background by the uniform rhythm of the modernist
fronts in the Palace Hall Square, completed in 1960 (fig. 2).
The early Ceaușescu regime (1965-1975) and its rising nationalism
encouraged architectural creativity, materialized in a brutalist-
influenced modernism which favored sculptural forms in rough
concrete, difficult to integrate in historic environments, but also
local materials and techniques, aiming at an original expression
of cultural identity. This orientation also manifested itself as a
concept of innovative restoration based on modern, personalized
interpretations of tradition, adapted to local specificity and applied
to reconstructions of lost components of historic ensembles
(e.g., the precinct buildings of the Sucevița and Dragomirna
Monasteries)9, as well as to remodelling interventions in historic
centers. Most relevant are the works undertaken in the perimeter
of the Lipscani area, nucleus of the historic center of Bucharest,
with a particular regard for the spirit of place, even if some of
the proposed renovations are rather hypothetical, historically
unconfirmed reconstructions of Balkan-type vernacular buildings
with cantilevered glazed verandas (geamlâc) like “Hanul cu Tei”
(The Lime-Tree Inn, restored 1969-1973) or “Crama Domnească”
(The Princely Wine Cellar) at 13-15 Șelari Street10 (fig. 3). Also, the
uncovering of the vestiges of the ancient princely court (Curtea
Veche, 16th-18th centuries) and, in the absence of an adequate
historical documentation, its conservation as a ruin with partial
On the previous page:
1. Two prestigious 19th century
neo-classical palaces in the “Art
Collections Piazzetta”
On the current page:
2. Kretzulescu Church, Bucharest
3. Crama Domnească, Bucharest
103
completions (1972-1974) generated an open-air museum complex
in the very core of the historic center, a true lieu de mémoire, well
assimilated within the urban context, but not in the day-to-day life
of the city.
Notwithstanding the political and ideological “thaw” of the period,
already in the early 1970s the atmosphere of liberalization began
to make way for increasing centralization and the control of the
Party (and Ceaușescu himself) over all the aspects of the Romanian
society and culture. In spite of the declared cult of Romania’s past,
historic monuments and areas were programmatically erased,
and, symbolically, the Direction of National Cultural Heritage
was abolished in 1977, the fatal year of the earthquake which
offered the pretext for a truly systematic demolition campaign that
affected mainly, but not only, the center of Bucharest.
Thus, the central segment of the historical artery of Calea Unirii
(Union Avenue) in Craiova, the North-South axis of the town
and a lively late 19th century commercial and promenade street
that had preserved its appealing air du temps, was demolished
almost totally, though the damages were not irreparable, and
reconstructed (1982). Adorned with a profusion of bay-windows,
loggias, spiral staircases and mansard roofs with skylights, the new,
heavy concrete structures tried to mimic by the fragmentation
of the street fronts and a tiring multitude of disparate elements
the picturesque minor scale and the ornamental verve of the old
buildings. The ample urban operation was officially considered
a great achievement and appreciated for creating, “through the
present, a harmoniously-conceived binding bridge between past
and future”11…
While in Bucharest the operations of urban renovation were
producing even more devastating effects in the historic areas,
particularly in the perimeter of the future “Civic Center”, softer
approaches, showing deference to the memory and identity
 4. The medieval Piața Sfatului
(Council Square), Brașov
Photo credit: Miruna Stroe
5. Piața Unirii (Union Square)
Photo credit: Nicolae Lascu
104
of place, were allowed in more distant towns from the Capital.
The medieval Piața Sfatului (Council Square) in Brașov, formerly
occupied by car traffic and parking lots, was redesigned as a public
space (arch. Koksis Bela, 1987) in an unostentatious and discrete
modernist manner using geometric patterns and forms, while the
surrounding buildings were accurately restored (fig. 4).
Likewise, in the center of Timișoara, the Baroque ensemble of
Piața Unirii (Union Square) was carefully restored (arch. Șerban
Sturdza, 1985)12 following a thorough archive study regarding
the history of the square and particularly the successive
transformations of buildings. Also, a rigorous stratigraphic analysis
of the plaster coatings, and the critical interpretation of the results,
considering the alteration in time of the lime-based oxids, lead
to a vivid and colourful palette which might have not reproduced
exactly the image of the square in a certain historic moment, but
surely recovered the original atmosphere. This particular, unusual
(for 1980s’ Romania) quest for the original spirit of place, and
for the stylistic unity of the square also led to the controversial
formula of re-modelling in a historicist, Baroque-inspired style two
18th century buildings (“La Trei Husari” and “La Elefant” Houses)
that had been transformed in the 20th century by the addition of
floors and a modern, simplified treatment of the street fronts – a
reasonable solution for that particular period, considering the
skilled façade design that integrated without difficulty into the
historic context (fig. 5).
The fall of the communist regime in december 1989 was supposed
to mark a turning point in Romania’s history – but the improper
understanding of economic and political liberalization, as well
as the inertia of mentalities and social relationships, have
dramatically slowed down the transition to a free society, with
solid democratic values and a decent living standard. The declared
intentions of reforming and modernizing the Romanian society
lacked a general, consistent political vision, and consequently their
reflection in the achitectural practice and urban planning resulted
in an attitude of disregard for the real problems of the city and its
heritage. Moreover, the immediate interests of the investors, the
arbitrary and politically-influenced decisions of the administrative
bodies, and the inefficiency of legislation and control, along with
the insufficient concern of the general public for heritage issues,
have produced noticeable impact on the interventions in historic
environments.
It appears that the large-scale decisional planning of the
totalitarian regime was replaced by a plethora of punctual
interventions with similar, if not more noxious effects upon listed
or unlisted heritage areas. The legal possibility for the Zonal Urban
Plans, drawn up for the sub-local level of interventions in protected
areas, to deviate from the local (and therefore upper-level)
regulations provided by the General Urban Plan of a town, highly
favored the real-estate speculation, mainly manifested in the
insertion of high-rise buildings and uncontrolled densification of
existing historic fabrics. To all these factors, one might also add the
architects’ frequent temptation to yield to the tastes, desires and
interests of the clients, or express their own personality and ideas
(whether they can afford or are allowed to), instead of sensitively
relating to the spirit of place. Therefore, a general view of the
post-1989 architectural phenomenon cannot fail to signal the
abundance of inappropriate, self-sufficient or discordant insertions
which altered and even disfigured coherent historic ensembles
because of conflicting volume typologies, disproportionate
dimensions, overscaled motifs, strident colors or incompatible
materials.
However (fortunately there is a „however”), one might state
that the architectural production of the last 25 years registers an
increasingly pronounced trend towards an appropriate integration
of the new into old contexts. A series of examples, categorized
according to the type of relationship and the degree of connection
with the characteristics of the existent, will try to illustrate the way
contemporary interventions integrate into historic contexts.
The total or partial reconstitution of lost buildings or ensembles
corresponds to the highest degree of consonance with the past,
but was proscribed by contemporary theories of restoration and
exceptionally accepted in the formula of anastylosis or for symbolic
reasons. On this account, it is understandable that reconstitution
was the solution adopted in the case of monuments demolished
during the Ceaușescu regime, although not to a great extent. The
17th century church of the Cotroceni Monastery in Bucharest,
integrated in the complex of a royal residence that Ceaușescu
intended to turn into a presidential palace, was considered
unsuitable for this new function and demolished in 1984, then
rebuilt on the original foundations (2003-2008, arch. Nicolae
Vladescu). Part of the recovered artistic components (the sculpted
stone columns, the window and portal frames, and the torsaded
median string-course) were inserted in the simplified, unadorned
geometry of the replica (fig. 6).
The church of Sfantul Spiridon Vechi (the Old Church of St.
Spiridon, 17th century), located on the banks of the Dâmbovița
river, near the future Civic center, was demolished in 1987 and
reconstituted (1992-1997, arch. Florea Voicu), also using the
salvaged pieces of stonework (columns and window-frames), as
well as the iconostasis and icons (fig. 7). The facades were slightly
modified compared with the original – which anyway had been
altered by previous transformations - by slightly raising the front
pediment and using gutter tiles instead of sheet metal covering.
The „Voaleta” building, a picturesque and unusual (for Bucharest)
Art Nouveau five-storey edifice with a 4 meters street front,
which progressively degraded during the late 20th century, had
6. Church of the Cotroceni
Monastery, Bucharest
7. Church of Sfantul Spiridon Vechi,
Bucharest
105
its facade reconstituted in 2005 according to period photographs
(fig. 8), while the inner spatiality and structure were completely
reconfigured. The slim facade of the „Voaleta” used to be a
popular landmark of the historic center, which might legitimize this
otherwise disputable type of restoration intervention – especially
since the renovated building was assigned the same commercial
function and profile as the original.
The reproduction of the entrance portico of the mid-nineteenth
century National Theater in Bucharest, severely damaged by the
German bombing in april 1944 and demolished in 1947, represents
another case of recovering the memory of a lost building, but
in a more „commercial” and scenographical way. The plot
remained unused for about sixty years, and the reconstitution
of the ancient portico in front of the new hotel built in 2005
is a gratuitous gesture having an allusive meaning for just a
few connoisseurs, but otherwise remaining a bizarre artifice, a
historicist butaphoria (fake) fronting two glass screens that hide
a most banal architecture (fig. 9). Also, in spite of the symbolical
intention, the social and urban function of the hotel is not able to
revive the already vanished memory of the theatre, nor can the
more forward facing volume of the new building, with its operetta
portico that does not respect the original street alignment,
recreate the former National Theatre Square and its atmosphere.
The next (and lower) level of consonance is represented by
a category that one might generically call accompagnement,
borrowing the French term that was initially describing the
uniform and homogenous architecture of the 17th to 19th
centuries Parisian places royales and avenues, and subsequently
generalized in the field of uban restoration for buildings
stylistically fit to complete existing ensembles or surround historic
monuments13.
Integration by accompaniment has a large palette of formulae,
 8. Voaleta building, Bucharest
9. Reconstitution of the ancient
portico of the mid-nineteenth
century National Theater in front of
the new hotel built, Bucharest
106
ranging from mimetic to neutral intervention. The mimetic
integration (actually equating to pastiche) ought to guarantee
a perfect contextualization (as in the case of the Timișoara
remodellings, where a accurate stylistic exercise represented an
adequate solution for that historical moment), but is generally
criticized for its lack of personality and the risk of confusion
between original and imitation.
However, the small-scale eclectic pastiches that can be met in
the residential areas of the early 20th century are often free and
imaginative interpretations of historical idioms and repertoires,
and form coherent ensembles in spite of the stylistic mosaic due
to the tastes of the initial landlords and their architects. On the
other hand, today’s renovation works in these neighborhoods
sometimes give way to unskilful pastiches which lack not only
originality, but also a correct understanding of the historical styles
they mimic. For instance, the house at 16 Dimitrie Racoviță street
in Bucharest, located in a protected area with picturesque early
20th century residences, is a misleading stylistic exercise that
displays well-drawn and carefully executed details of Parisian Art
Nouveau and Italian Liberty with a touch of Gaudì (fig. 10). Still,
most motifs are exceedingly overscaled or assembled in a manner
that is departing from the standards of the „1900” syntax, and thus
the house becomes an uncanny and extravagant presence in the
quiet domestic context of the area.
Another example of mimicry is the facade of the „Gabroveni Inn”
in the historical center of Bucharest - a 19th century commercial
passage that was abandoned and reduced to a state of collapse in
the late 20th century, then restored, expanded and turned into a
cultural center as a result of a design competition in 2009. Despite
the fact that the memory of place was preserving but a brick ruin,
the facade was „reimagined” according to the unprecise testimony
of a 1923 drawing, and appears rather as a theatrical setting
featuring a Rundbogenstil front, while for the neighboring facade
of the expansion, the adopted solution - a flat interpretation of
the context with the use of new materials - is more correct as a
principle (fig. 11).
The neutral intervention may represent a discreet accompaniment
for historic buildings, subordinating to them and highlighting
their value. It lacks glow and originality, but is sometimes a safer
and more decent, yet modest, solution for completing a historic
ensemble, articulating more personalized insertions with an
existing context, and avoiding abrupt transitions between old
and new. Usually, this type of intervention respects the scale,
typo-morphology and materials of the existing buildings in a
very explicit and unpretentios way, the risk being to look like an
old building that has lost its decorative apparatus, whereas a
more subtle approach might appear as a simplified analogy with
the context, i.e. as a frontier solution between the categories of
accompaniment and interpretation of the existent (see the above
mentioned expansion of the „Gabroveni Inn” Cultural Center).
The neighboring building of the „Voaleta” is an example of neutral
intervention consisting in an addition on top of the existing late
19th century structure, whose second storey surmounted by a
mansard roof had lost its rich neo-Baroque decoration. The two
newly-added storeys merely repeat the group of three openings of
the second floor and, together with a simplified entablature, reach
the cornice alignment of the neighboring buildings, thus unifying a
very uneven street-front segment.
Counterpoint as old/new relationship means dialogue between
equal parts, distinct, yet harmonized expressions of the insertion
and existing buildings. Concord is possible to achieve through
analogy and interpretation of the context, ranging from the
transposition of its characteristics in a new manner or material
to the comprehension and re-embodiment of its spirit. Volume
typologies and morpho-stylistic elements, ratio of solid and
void, facade partitions and rhythms, scale and proportions of
the architectural elements can be interpreted in a contemporary
language - which does not exclude contrasts, but simply uses
them for differentiating old and new, and not for a challenging
confrontation.
The belfry-tower of the Mavrogheni church in Bucharest, severely
damaged after the 1940 earthquake and rebuilt in 1997 (arch.
Marius Marcu-Lapadat and Horea Gavriș), freely interprets the
traditional Valachian type illustrated by the belfry-tower of
the Patriarchal Church, its specific proportions and vocabulary,
becoming a distinctly modern, yet contextualized presence in a
prestigious ensemble of historic buildings. The stylized medieval
and Neo-Romanian motifs are treated „in the spirit of a minimalist
design”14, using artisanal techniques and traditional materials (fig.
12).
In a different context and on another scale, the expansion of the
Central University Library in Bucharest (arch. Petre Swoboda,
Constantin Rulea and Mircea Voinescu, 1993-1996) carefully
and subtly borrows the alignments, registers and rhythms of the
adjacent original building, but nevertheless avoids to reproduce
exactly the shapes, dimensions and proportions of its facade
elements. The adopted language, a temperate historicist post-
modernism, is rather delayed and already dated for the 1990s,
but appears as an appropriate interlocutor for the Beaux-Arts
eclecticism of the old wing.
Also in the core of Bucharest, completing one of the characteristic
alveoles of Calea Victoriei (Victory Avenue), the 2002 expansion
of the Ramada Hotel (arch. Alexandru Beldiman, Doina Butică,
Moise Mathé) had the difficult task of relating to two different
historic structures: its older wing and the Capșa House, a famous
coffee-shop and historic landmark of the capital. The problem was
10. House at 16 Dimitrie Racoviță
street, Bucharest
11. Gabroveni Inn, Bucharest
107
solved by fragmenting the new building and providing towards
the lower Capșa House a small low-rise, sober articulation which
repeats accurately, but in a stripped-down style and with modern
materials, the geometry and facade pattern of the neighboring
volume, part of the historic monument. The main volume of the
addition, adjacent to the older wing of the hotel, adopts the sam
e late 19th century typology of Parisian influence, scrupulously
respecting the cornice alignment and the main facade registers
(fig. 13). The rhythm and proportions of the architectural
elements are interpreted in a contemporary idiom, clearly but not
ostentatiously affirmed, and only the attic storey corresponding to
the existing mansard roof receives a more daring metal structure.
Another example of counterpoint intervention, again in the
heterogeneous historic ensemble of the Victory Avenue, is the
Golden Tulip Hotel (arch. Marilena Bucur, 2004-2005), a corner
insertion whose transparent, yet eye-catching screen of metallic
brise-soleils replicates the horizontal registers of the neighboring
Ministry of Industrial Works, an iconic exemplar of Romanian
classicizing modernism of the 1930s and 1940s (arch. Duiliu
Marcu). The vertical partitions of the interwar structure, as well as
its balanced contrast between the plain, vertical wall panels and
the linear concrete grids of the large window are subtly echoed in
the facade composition of the new building (fig. 14).
Similarly, but on a domestic scale, the infill apartment building
at 30, Petru Rareș Street (ADN BA architects, 2010), located in a
lower middle-class neighborhood surrounded by socialist blocks
and areas of destructured fabric, develops explicit analogies with
its context, yet in a more contrasting manner which tends towards
dissonance. The differences of scale and colour are striking at first
sight, but actually the insertion turns out to be closely connected
with its context by adopting the traditional typology of the so-
called ‘wagon-house’, specific not only to the neighborhood in

108
question, but generally for the urban architecture (vernacular
and then savant) of the late 19th century and the first decades
of the 20th century in south-eastern Romania and Bucharest in
particular15. The new building seems to scale up its abutting two-
storey Art Deco wagon-house, as well as its most salient element,
the bow-window of the street facade –a witty device that gives a
somehow humorous note to the ensemble.
Dissonance as relationship between old and new does not mean
incompatibility and irreconcilable conflict, but a dialectic unity of
opposites engendering a new type of harmony. The architectural
approach corresponding to dissonance is integration via contrast
– a solution consisting in the deliberate search for a stimulating
opposition between intervention and existent, and resulting
in a fertile interaction which highlights them both. Contrasting
entities mutually emphasize their characteristics, since – as
asserted by philosophers and anthropologists - alterity defines
identity. Contrast is the best option for interventions aiming to
a personalized, novel expression that intends simultaneously to
respect the context and clearly mark the distinction between
old and new. This dual objective might be attained if a common
denominator can be nonetheless found between the opposed
entities , i.e. if not all the characteristics of the old and new
components are contrasted, and one at least is shared. Usually, this
happens if the intervention responds to the requirements of the
the urban regulations and heritage that refer to the preservation
of the specific features of a protected area, such as height regime,
alignment or materials. But the dosage of contrast remains the
prerogative of the architect seeking an original, striking expression,
and whishing to find the right path between invigorating and
negating the context.
The limits of integrative dissonance are thus fluctuating: on the
one hand, the existence of a common denominator can get a
contrasting intervention closer to counterpoint and analogy, and
on the other hand, the sphere (and the sense) of harmony is
continuously enlarging, so that interventions considered at first
as violent and shocking are progressively accepted and perceived
as revitalizing landmarks of the historic areas (the case of the
Beaubourg in Paris or the Selfridges in Birmingham).
A frequent example of integration via contrast is the infill building
inserted in a continuous front and receiving a contrasting
treatment, but preserving the street and cornice alignment, and
often the volume typology of the area. The same effect results
from applying to an existing facade a light, filigreed screen,
usually metallic, whose uniform ornamental pattern contrasts
with the traditional facade compositions fragmented by registers,
partitions, openings and mouldings – as in the case of two narrow
houses with ground-floor commercial spaces in the historic center
of Bucharest, 15 Franceză Street (fig. 15) and 68 Lipscani Street.
Contrast can also be a solution for expansions, floor additions and
integrations „in envelope” when a clear differentiation between
old and new is required by the concept of intervention. The office
building at 5 Dem.I. Dobrescu Street (arch. Dan Marin and Zeno
Bogdănescu, 2004) is a vertical glass prism inserted within the
masonry envelope of a late 19th century bourgeois residence
in French Renaissance style (fig. 16). Located near the official
building that has served as central headquarters of the Communist
Party, the villa was assigned to a direction of the State Security
and as such became a target of the shootings in December 1989.
The preservation of the damaged shell with its bullet traces was
legitimate as a symbolic gesture, whereas the transparent tower
emerging from the ruin became the metaphor of a new world
being born from the old one. The sharp contrast between the two
On the previous page:
13. Expansion of the Ramada Hotel
(arch. Alexandru Beldiman, Doina
Butică, Moise Mathé), Bucharest
On the current page:
12. Belfry-tower of the Mavrogheni
church, Bucharest
14. Golden Tulip Hotel (arch.
Marilena Bucur, 2004-2005),
Bucharest
109
components underlines the elaborate décor of the old facade and
its condition of ruin, but the alternate layers of brick and plaster
share the same rhythm with the horizontal metallic profiles of the
glass volume, and the protruding upper parallelepiped repeats
in a simplified geometry the dimensions and proportions of the
original building.
A highly contrasting insertion which becomes the figure-object
of the ensemble, also due to its isolated position in space, is the
covering structure of the marketplace in Badea Cârțan Square in
Timișoara (arch. Ioan Andreescu and Vlad Gaivoronschi, 1994-
1996; re habilitated in 2012, arch. Vlad Gaivoronschi) – a light and
functional intervention that regenerated the ancient hay-market
of the town and turned it into a vivid public space. The 4000
m2 tent membrane suspended from a high-tech skeleton might
have seemed an UFO landed between the exquisitely decorated
18th century fronts of the square (Fig. 17), but the rhythm of
the historic facades resonate with the rhythmic elements of the
metallic structure, and the delicacy of the Baroque ornaments
is echoed by the technological lacework of posts, arches and
diagonal rods, the whole resulting in an enlivening dialogue
between past and present (fig. 18). The rehabilitation intervention
in 2012, along with the discrete addition of transparent perimetral
booths, replaced the initial yellow membrane with a more sober
one, coloured in white and silver – a neutral combination that
establishes a more balanced relation with the pastel tones of the
surrounding facades.
The various modalities of relating old and new illustrated by
Romanian examples from the last decades testify to an increasing
concern for respecting and valorizing the historic environments,
not always plainly successful, but encouraging all the same. Less
encouraging remain the interpretable and incomplete legislation,
the institutional dysfunctions, the absence of effective instruments
 15. A frequent example of 17/18. Covering structure of the
integration via contrast marketplace in Badea Cârțan Square
in Timișoara (arch. Ioan Andreescu
16. Office building at 5 Dem.I. and Vlad Gaivoronschi, 1994-1996;
Dobrescu Street (arch. Dan Marin re habilitated in 2012, arch. Vlad
and Zeno Bogdănescu, 2004) Gaivoronschi)
Photo credit: Vlad Gaivoronschi

110 111
of urban management and coherent patrimonial strategies
–,essential conditions, along with the architects’ professional
ethics and creativity, for preserving and reviving the identity and
genius of historic places.

NOTES
1
Christian Norberg-Schulz, Genius Loci. Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture,
Rizzoli, New York, 1991, p. 18.
2
Idem, p. 23.
3
In this sense, not only building, but also introducing art, design and technical
equipment in an existing context represents an architectural act.
4
For instance, Giovanni Carbonara, in his book Architettura d’oggi e restauro.
Un confronto antico-nuovo (UTET Scienze Tecniche, Torino, 2011), a perceptive
analysis of today’s relation between the culture of conservation and the culture
of the project, proposes a nuanced classification of the restoration interventions,
with a special subchapter dedicated to “urban” restoration.
5
“Autonomy/dissonance” and “assimilation/consonance” are categorial labels
already proposed by Giovanni Carbonara in op. cit., along with “dialectical
relationship/reintegration of the image” and “direct non-intervention”.
6
Phrase borrowed from Johannes Cramer, Stefan Breitling, Architecture in Existing
Fabric, Birkhäuser, Basel, Boston, Berlin, 2007, p. 151.
7
In the Gestaltist approach to perceptual psychology, one considers that in a visual
field, clearly individualized objects, having articulate shapes, as well as other
salient/marked characteristics (texture, color, pattern, structure) take a prominent
role (the figures), while the others are seen to recede as a neutral, uniform and
undifferentiated backdrop (the ground). The figure-ground relationship was
established as an effective instrument for analyzing urban forms and fabrics by arhitectonică – zona centrală” (An Architectural Success – the Central Zone), in 15
19th century modernization and densification of the urban areas in the south-
Colin Rowe’s and Fred Koetter’s seminal work Collage City, published in 1978. Arhitectura nr. 3/1982, p. 13. eastern regions of Romania lead to the division of the semi-rural larger parcels
8
As in the well-known “Rubin face-vase illusion”, an example of figure/ground 12
The interventions in Piata Unirii benefited from the consultancy of prestigious with gardens and orchards which were constituting most of the medieval fabric -
relationship proposed by the Danish psychologist Edgar Rubin around 1915. specialists in architectural restoration (Eugenia Greceanu) and mural painting thus resulting the deep and narrow plots characteristic of the residential districts.
9
See Mihaela Criticos, “Restauro e architettura in Romania. Paralleli storici”, in restoration (Tatiana Pogonat). The wagon-house appeared as an adaptation of the original rural dwelling,
La conservazione del costruito storico. Analisi, metodologie, progetto (Report 1, a 13
Particularly encouraged in France during the 1970s and 1980s due to a isolated within its yard, to this new type of urban plot. Aligned to the street
cura di StefanoD’Avino), CARSA Edizioni, Pescara, 2011, pp. 26-27. very strict urban legislation regarding heritage conservation, the architecture front with a short facade and stuck with a blind wall to a lateral limit of the plot
10
Here the street front features a picturesque two-storey geamlâc that occupies d’accompagnement was later on criticised for its formalism and lack of (usually the less sunny one), the wagon-house develops longitudinally, with a
the whole street front, although it was customarily used only for rear, domestic inventiveness. lateral access from the long narrow courtyard and generating open, discontinue
wings and lateral facades as a naturally-lit and ventilated corridor giving access to 14
Mariana Celac, Octavian Carabela, Marius Marcu-Lapadat, București – street fronts. During the interwar period, the wagon type was expanded to multi-
unlit and unventilated rooms, therefore having no sense in the front facade. arhitectură și modernitate. Un ghid adnotat / Bucharest – architecture and level apartment buildings, also oriented towards a narrow lateral courtyard and
11
Silviu Pușcașu (rector of the Technical University, Craiova), “O reușită modernity. An annotated guide, Simetria, București, 2005, p. 117. preserving the porosity and permeability of the traditional urban fabric.
 THE BUILT HERITAGE OF ROMANIA. CONTEXT, PERCEPTION AND PERSPECTIVES
Cătălina-Gabriela BULBOREA
112
Introduction
Even if an important part of its built heritage was lost over
time, Romania still boasts a large variety of historic edifices,
the oldest being usually fortifications, nobility residences and
churches or other cult buildings. Other than modern architectural
programmes, such as the Neo-Romanian1 houses and public
buildings, dating from the turn of the 20th century and its first
decades, that are to be found all over the country, there are iconic
built heritage categories associated with the cultural identity of
each historical region of the country or even with that of specific
cities.
Homes to various ethnic minorities, sharing parallel or
intertwined histories, the former Romanian historical provinces
offer a richness of architectural styles and artistic masterpieces. In
response to specific conditions, in the areas exposed to frequent
Tatar and Turk invasions, specific architecture programmes had
developed, such as the fortified monasteries in Moldova and
Wallachia, the fortified Saxon churches in Transylvania and the
kule2 in Oltenia, nobility residences fortified for the same reasons
and in the same period of time as the Saxon churches.
The major political and social changes that transformed the
country in the last hundred years – in 2018 Romania is celebrating
its Centenary3 – left an equally important mark on its built
heritage. As in every society, there are complex factors influencing
the perception, and ultimately the state of conservation of the
built heritage. One of the most powerful determinants is the
social and economic dynamics: being dependent on territory
and community,as bearer of cultural, religious and ethnic group
identity, the built heritage is highly vulnerable to mass migration,
be it labour migration or various other reasons.
As for perception, there are some privileged historic monuments
that have also gained international recognition and are regarded
as national treasures, such as several painted monasteries in
northern Moldavia or some of the fortified Saxon churches of
Transylvania, while other heritage categories, like the industrial
heritage or the heritage associated with the “Golden Era”4 are
strongly underrated, both by the authorities and by the general
public.
Regarding the historic cities, the story of Bucharest and the
conservation status of its built heritage is iconic: after several
major earthquakes and fires (some of them arsons), that during
the lasts three centuries tore down large areas of the central
urban fabric, the brutal urban systematisation carried out by the
communist regime in the second half of the past century (in the
name of modernization), ripped off old and valuable parts of the
city. What is left has to be fiercely defended against the assault
of the real estate land speculation, more often by the civil society
than by the authorities in charge.
Proportionately speaking, the drama of the capital city unfolds in
a similar fashion in other Romanian cities, too. Depending on the
local policy and interests, a historic city can embrace its cultural
identity and evolve towards becoming a tourist attraction (cases
of Sighișoara, Cluj, Sibiu, Brașov, Oradea), or can deny the cultural
and the economic value of its built heritage and sacrifice it for a
higher profit (which is often the case of Bucharest).
A low public awareness regarding the cultural and economic
value of the built heritage and the real meaning of authenticity
underpins the actual situation. For a long time, the general public
expressed interest toward certain categories of built heritage,
mainly from a tourist point of view, while on holiday, without an
active involvement in their own communities, this allowing policy
makers not to address the heritage issue and various developers
and even some professionals to disregard the public interest.
The main contemporary threats to Romanian built heritage
are the abandonment, the real estate land speculation, the
insufficient administrative capacity of the authorities in charge of
historic monuments’ protection, concerted with a rather low level
of public interest and involvement. An even more insidious threat
is the poor quality of some of the interventions on the historic
buildings. Despite a rather restrictive system of professional
certification and a complex authorisation process, the protection
system fails to fulfil its role, because of a weak administrative
capacity, (sometimes combined with corruption), of the
authorities in charge to supervise the planning and to monitor the
execution of works.
The built heritage of Romania in its historical context5
For a deeper understanding of the issue of national built
heritage and of its contemporary public perception, it is essential
to analyse them in their larger context, comprising historic,
social, politic, economic, religious and any other significant
considerations, because there are specific circumstances that
shaped every category of built heritage and even more, every
historic building. Some of the factors contributing to the quality of
certain built heritage categories turned over time into detrimental
ones, such as the isolation of some manors or fortresses that
facilitates nowadays their shift to a vandalism-prone object.
With a proven human presence over 40 millennia, the present
territory of Romania offers a wide variety of landforms, a rich flora
and fauna and an abundance of mineral resources. The land has a
continental climate and access to the Black Sea and to the second-
longest river of Europe – the Danube. Previously home to several
Paleolithic and Neolithic settlements, in the last centuries BCE
this territory was inhabited mainly by Dacians, a branch of Getae,
population of Thracian origin.
Conquered by the Romans at the beginning of the 2nd century
113
CE, during Emperor Trajan’s rule, the Dacian kingdom ruled by
Decebalus splits in half. Part of it becomes a Roman province,
ruled by a governor residing in the newly built capital city, Ulpia
Traiana Sarmizegetusa, 40 km away from the former Dacian
capital city, Sarmizegetusa Regia, which was razed to the ground.
The other half remains the territory of the so-called “free
Dacians”.
With the Empire’s borders under the constant strain of the
“barbarians”, the Romans retreat from the Dacian territory in 271-
276. After Aurelian’s withdrawal, Roman cities and fortifications
in Transylvania, Banat and Oltenia are inhabited and used for
defence by the Romanized Christian locals until the end of the 4th
– middle of 5th century and abandoned afterwards. During the
medieval times, some settlements overlap the Roman ones, as
in Napoca (Cluj) or Apulum (Alba-Iulia), reusing or spoliating the
Roman structures.
The eastern province of Dobrudja boasts a large number of
antique fortresses, built by Romans, Greeks, Getae and Byzantins.
The seashore fortresses of Histria, Tomis and Callatis founded
by the Greek colonists in the 7th – 6th BC endure until the 5th
century AD, when they are destroyed by the Huns, but get
restored by the Byzantines in the 6th century. During the next
300 years, the settlements on the northern bank of Danube and
in Dobrudja are sporadically inhabited, as the Byzantine Empire
retreats from the Danube.
Under successive waves of migratory populations, a rapid process
of ruralization takes in the territory that once belonged to the
Dacian kingdom. At the turn of the 10th century, Hungarians
settle in Pannonia, then begin to advance into Transylvania,
confronting the pre-statal entities ruled by local voivodes.
Starting from the 10th century, cities begin to be mentioned in
documents in Banat and Transylvania. During the 12th century,
 1. Current view of a former
traditional village with wooden
church, Șieu Village, Maramureș
County.
Photo credit: Tofán Zsolt, 2018.
114
the first wave of Saxon colonists, summoned by the Hungarian
king Geza II, settle in Transylvania and in the 13th century,
Transylvania enters under Hungarian rule. The Saxon immigration
will continue during the next centuries, as the Hungarian kings
offer them economic privileges in exchange for loyalty. The
colonists dwell in already existing settlements or establish new
ones, near rivers or commercial routes. During the Mongol
invasion in 1241-1242, many prosperous towns and cities in
Transylvania are burned and demolished, but most of them are
rebuilt afterwards. Starting from the 14th century, the frequent
Turk invasions determine a strong reinforcement of the cities’ and
villages’ fortifications.
Nowadays, Transylvania is well-known for the landscape of Saxon
villages developed around the massive fortified churches built
from the 12th century to the 16th century as community shelters
in case of then frequently Tatar or Turk sieges. Here, the fortified
cities of Sibiu (also known by its German name, Hermannstadt),
Sighișoara and Brașov (Kronstadt) are famous for their historic city
centres, shaped throughout the centuries by their multicultural
communities.
The first documents attesting the existence of cities in Wallachia
and Moldavia are contemporaneous with the consolidation of
the early state entities of the two extra-Carpathian provinces, in
the 12th -14th centuries. They state the existence of Câmpulung,
Curtea-de-Argeș, Târgoviște and Râmnicu-Vâlcea, the first three
being capitals of the principality of Wallachia successively. In
Moldavia, the first mentions of cities date from the 14th century
and report on the fortress of Suceava and the town Iassy.
Bucharest, the current capital city, is mentioned for the first time
in a document dating from the 15th century, but archaeological
artefacts attest the pre-existence of an older fortification.
Over the next centuries, the principalities continue their separate
historic evolution toward modernity, alternating periods of
independence with times of vassalage under Hungarian, Austro-
Hungarian, Russian or Turkish suzerainty. The Church played an
important role in the history of each province6 , which is reflected
in the large number of cult buildings that was preserved, partly
as result of their continuous use. The Region of Wallachia is
notorious for its Byzantine-styled churches, while the enclosed
Orthodox monasteries, whose walls are encircling churches with
external mural paintings, built from the late 15th century to the
late 16th are the mark of northern Moldavia. Made of interlocked
logs and covered with wood shingles, the tall wooden churches
are iconic for the region of Maramureș. Erected between the
17th century and the 19th century, some of them have been
dismantled and relocated several times afterwards.
In 1859 the principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia unify under
the rule of Alexandru Ioan Cuza, elected prince of both provinces,
who initiates important social and economic reforms. Following
the Independence War in 18777 , Romania evolves from the
personal union established by Cuza to an autonomous principality,
under the rule of King Carol I of Hohenzollern. During his reign
modern institutions are established, new public buildings are
erected throughout the country and the old ones are getting
restored, in a national effort supported by a generation of highly
educated professionals, both of Romanian or foreign origin.
The charming Art Nouveau heritage of Oradea dates from this
period and also the largely spread style called Neo-Romanian
or the National style is born these days. The style is a blend
between architectural and artistic elements of Byzantine and
Oriental origin, grafted on popular constructive traditions. A rich
eclectic heritage is built in the cities of Giurgiu, Galați, Brăila and
Sulina, which owe their prosperity to their status as important
commercial hubs bordering the Danube.
In the aftermath of the First World War, succeeding an important
war effort that caused immense losses, the Romanian provinces
unify in 1918 under the rule of King Ferdinand I. After centuries of
military fights and political and economic instability, Romanians
fulfil their highest aim: the Great Union of the territories
inhabited mainly by their co-ethnics. On a wave of enthusiasm,
the country and its institutions resume their modernisation
during the interwar years. The Romanian society keeps pace with
the important developments taking place in Europe’s art and
architecture, a good example being the modernist heritage of
Bucharest, perfectly in time with the western evolutions.
After the Second World War, with the large support of the Russian
communist regime and despite the resistance of the general
population, a communist government is installed in Romania by
force. At the end of the ‘40 – beginning of the ‘50, large numbers
of people are killed, sent to jail or to forced labour camps by the
Securitate (the Secret Police), not only for opposing the regime
through armed resistance, but also for not giving up their land
or their properties8 , for speaking against the regime or even for
borrowing books from the foreign embassies’ libraries.
During the communist era, the built heritage suffer greatly, as
entire categories of buildings, former properties of wealthy
individuals, are “returned to the people”and used in an
“exemplary” manner9 . Hence, during those years, most of the
manors and palaces belonging to the Romanian aristocracy or rich
bourgeoisie foster field farms, nursing practices, kindergartens,
schools, industrial or administrative facilities. Obviously, all these
categories of users have neither awareness, nor respect towards
the cultural value of the buildings.
Under the guise of modernisation, the regime proceeds to
extended demolitions of historic buildings, viewed as relics of
a disturbing past. Entire town centres are completely swept
115
away and replaced with densely distributed apartments, most
of them having deficiencies in respect of promoted quality of
life and aesthetics. After the seismic event of 4 March 197710
, the earthquake safety becomes the new cover for heritage
destruction and the annoying Historical Monuments Directorate is
abolished. During the communist regime, highly valuable historic
monuments, most of them churches, are demolished for no
reason, as the impressive Văcărești Monastery in Bucharest, built
between 1716 and 1736 and razed in 1986.
Started in terror, the dictatorship ends up in a bloody rebellion,
the only violent regime change in the Eastern Europe, 50 years
after its beginning. Half of century of communist regime operated
deep changes in all the layers of Romanian society, many of the
wounds remain unhealed till present days. During the following
decades, the Romanian society struggles to reinvent itself, paying
more attention to the economic aspects and less to the cultural
ones.
Laws regulating the field and institutions in charge
According to the Law no. 422 of 2001 governing the field, the
listed historic monuments, ensembles and sites are legally
protected. The National Register of Historic Monuments is
updated every 5 years by the Ministry of Culture and National
Identity and published in the Official Gazette of Romania. Issued
in 2015, the version in force comprises 30147 monuments (out of
which 2651 are in Bucharest), 1797 ensembles and 4046 sites.
Grouped according to their nature into four categories:
archaeological, architectural, public monuments and memorial
or funerary, the historic monuments may belong to A category
(of national or universal importance ) or to B category (of local
importance11), depending on their age, frequency, historical,
urban, architectural, artistic, memorial significance. Aside from
116
the aforementioned, there are two more categories of protection:
the Historic Monument Protection Zone, that regulates
the interventions made in the proximity of a listed historic
monument, and the Protected Historic Area, that safeguards the
historic areas of cities.
There are specific procedures for researching, planning and
carrying out interventions in the historic monuments, ensembles
and sites, with penalties in case of infringement. Technically, every
intervention on monuments, ensembles, sites, Protected Historic
Areas or Historic Monument Protection Areas must be backed up
by a specific documentation, prepared by certified specialists and
submitted for approval to the competent authorities. By law, the
responsibility for the maintenance rests on the owner or holders
of other rights.
The main policy maker and the decision-maker on the subject is
the Ministry of Culture and National Identity, along with other
entities, subordinated or not: institutes (such as the National
Institute of Heritage and the National Institute for Cultural
Research and Training), committees (like the National Committee
on Monuments and Sites, the National Archaeology Committee
and the National Committee for Public Monuments), other central
government agencies as the Ministry of Regional Development,
Public Administration or the Ministry of Research and Innovation
or the State Secretariat for Cults.
At territorial level, the Ministry of Culture and National Identity
is represented by the County Directorates for Culture. The local
authorities play an important role in the protection system of the
built heritage by controlling the mechanism of issuing opinions
and building permits. Nevertheless, the local decision-makers
are also the weakest link in chain: most county directorates lack
personnel and funds, while the local authorities lack specialised
staff, funds or both, not to mention the corruption that can
seriously harm the quality of the conservation projects and works.
In addition to the constantly insufficient budgetary funds assigned
by the Ministry for the conservation and protection of publicly-
owned historic buildings12 , there is a number of external funding,
like some European Structural Funds, European Economic Area
Grants (sustained by Iceland, Liechtenstein and Norway), the
Norway Grants and others are available on the basis of project
contests. The difficulties in accessing these funding are mainly
due to the potential beneficiaries’ lack of knowledge and due to
lack of communication and collaboration between various entities
that should work together in order to carry out a successful
project.
Social, economic, politic and professional determinants of the
built heritage status
As in every society, there are complex factors influencing the
perception and ultimately the state of conservation of the built
heritage in Romania. One of the most powerful determinants is
the social and economic dynamics. Being dependent on territory
and community, as bearer of cultural, religious and ethnic group
identity, the built heritage is highly vulnerable to migration.
Under communist rule, Romania was the scene of a national-
scale social experiment: right from its beginning, the regime
carried on the forced collectivization and nationalization of the
private properties. Those who opposed the regime or were just
perceived as such, were sent to jail, to forced labour camps or
displaced, hundreds of kilometres away from their birthplace.
Entire communities were uprooted and forced to dwell in
newly founded settlements, in the middle of nowhere. Over the
following decades, as a consequence of the economic programme
of the ruling party, which provided the establishment of industrial
facilities all over the country (sometimes to the detriment of
economic efficiency), many people left their places of origin to
provide the workforce for new amenities, settled in new towns
and started families there.
Another major shift in the social dynamics of the country was
caused by the regime’s policy with regard to the Saxon and Jewish
ethnic minorities. Being allowed to emigrate13 in exchange of
payment of a given amount of money, the Saxons and Jews living
here for centuries departed in high number, most moving to
Germany and to Israel, respectively. Following the regime change
in 1989, the migration continued, for personal, family or economic
reasons. After an existence of 800 years, the Saxon communities
in Transylvania came apart in just decades, during the last half of
the 20th century, leaving behind an orphan built heritage.
Following the privatisation initiated in the 1990s, many important
public sector enterprises that concentrated large number of
employees failed to adapt to business-driven modern economy.
Today, many former mono-industrialised towns and cities that
lost their main employer face strong economic downturn and
depopulation, literally shrinking, as the reaction to poverty and
unemployment is, again, labour migration. But this time, other
than abandonment and decay, the built heritage back home faces
a new threat: after years abroad, some of the work migrants
return home not only with their savings, but also with a new
imagery that they are trying to replicate at home.
Having a frequently superficial contact with the built environment
in the countries where they resided for a while, namely lacking
a thorough understanding of the subtle relations between
climatic and seismic conditions, traditions, modern way of life,
architectural styles and specific construction materials and
techniques, when they return, they start to alter their houses
or to build new ones following foreign patterns, creating hybrid
models that are substantially transforming the cultural landscape
117
of their hometowns.
The effects of these practices are exponential: not only do they
alter the built heritage in their own property, particularly if
unlisted, but as economically successful people, they also set
new standards of representativity in their communities. And
by contributing to the diffusion of the hybrid models, they
unknowingly hasten the dissolution of an almost lost know-how:
the local traditional building techniques. Just another battlefield
on which globalization confront the local culture!
The interregional cultural borrowings within the borders have
the same effect: they are altering the landscape and overshadow
the local specificity. One of the most visible illustration of this
phenomenon is the contemporary nationwide adoption of
a specific type of wooden church, peculiar to the villages in
northern County of Maramureș, which mushroom all over the
place: between blocks of flats, in parks, at the side of the roads or
on the hospitals’ or military bases’ premises. They are obviously
cherished (also by the Romanian communities abroad), widely
accepted by the Romanian Orthodox Church, fairly cheap (starting
from several tens of thousands of euro), easy to build (actually, to
fit, as they are made of logs), and there are no express regulations
to restrict their presence. Do they alter the cultural landscape?
Definitely yes, but should we react? And how?
While the replicas are so appreciated, the originals fade into
oblivion. No longer big enough for their parishioners, the small
wooden churches of Maramureș are duplicated by large masonry
churches, having nothing to do with the local tradition, as a
reverse of the wooden churches spread throughout the country.
But this is just one of the circumstances that show the big gap
between the heritage professionals’ perspective and the attitude
toward the cultural heritage of the general public. Not aware of
the cultural and economic value of the built heritage and the real
 On the next page:
2. Saschiz Village, Mureș County,
inscribed on UNESCO’s WHL,
with the tower and the restored
fortified church (restoration works
2000-2011)
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2016
118
meaning of authenticity, the majority of people show a low level
of interest and involvement in the field.
Furthermore, given the requirements to be met by an owner of a
historic monument in order to carry out legal construction work
(paying for specialised projects, obtaining several various opinions
and permits, paying highly qualified personnel for the execution
work, personnel who is rather difficult to find etc.), the holders
perceive their status as burdensome, while the very existence of
the monument or its belonging to protected or protection areas
are often seen as an obstacle to the development. If erroneously
considered a sort of authority abuse and an infringement on the
property rights, the legal provisions are ignored and the owner
proceeds to unauthorized interventions or even demolition,
actions considered crimes and punishable with imprisonment or
fine, depending on their gravity. However, penalties are rarely
applied in practice, and there is only one known case of final
sentence of imprisonment, dating from 201714 .
In big cities, an even greater pressure comes from the real estate
developers who hunt for centrally located plots of land. In order
to maximise their profit, some of them go beyond the boundaries
of urban regulations and build multi-storey blocks of flats or
office buildings in Protected Historic Areas comprising mostly
single or two-storey houses. Obviously, this kind of developers
and most of the professionals working for them respond to the
logic of profit making, and not to the needs of public interest,
while the authorities in charge are too weak, too corrupt or
too incompetent to defend the latter. Another key factor is the
stance of some local authorities who treat heritage as a whim
and issue abusive demolition permits of historic monuments and
disputable construction permits in the Historic Protected Areas15
. Sometimes, the development is used as a stalking horse for
corruption.
Against this background, the professionals in the field are
split into two main camps – on the one hand there are urban
planners, architects and engineers who act simply as tools of their
beneficiaries, sharing their approach toward the built heritage,
often seen as an obstacle to the development which has to be
removed or at least heavily transformed. On the other hand there
are architects, engineers and conservator – restorers who put all
their efforts into heritage conservation and fight for broadening
their clients’ cultural horizons in order to change their perception
on heritage value.
As success in this field relies on the cultural level of the
professionals themselves at least as much as on that of the
holders, bad restoration projects and works are not rare. On
long term, things will get even more complicated, as the access
of young professionals to the practice is regulated, or rather
restricted by a quite rigid system of professional certification.
This, combined with the regulations of the public procurement
law, applying to all publicly funded conservation – restoration
interventions, outline the field as a narrow niche, already
occupied by an almost closed group. The consequences are seen
in the small number of young professionals who join the group
every year, for lack of professional debate and critique regarding
the quality of the projects, lack of real competitivity and finally, in
the quality of the conservation – restoration intervention.
Generally speaking, there is little transparency regarding the
research, planning and works on built heritage, on grounds of
copyright protection. The very few symposiums, conferences
or congresses in the field are organised mainly by civil society
entities and usually fail to draw in all the important players in the
field, especially policy makers.
Last, but not least, the incoherence and inconsistency of the
cultural policies reflect the political instability: 26 Ministers of
Culture in 29 years (28 mandates), of which 11 in the lasts 5
years only, could hardly produce any significant positive result.
Overall, we’re still stuck in a vicious circle: struggling financially,
the majority remains ignorant and indifferent toward the cultural
heritage, therefore they vote for politicians who do not have the
issue on their agenda. Once elected or appointed representatives
of the local or central authorities, the politicians do not allocate
enough funds for the heritage conservation and protection, nor
do they promote education policies addressed to the general
public. The cultural heritage is still largely considered a whim, as
those who defend it are taken for idealists.
The first signs of change appeared in 2013, when massive
street protests against Roșia Montană Project took place in
many important cities in Romania and abroad, in the Romanian
diaspora, demanding the withdrawal of a law which would have
enabled the start of a gold mining project considered dangerous
for the environment and for the rich cultural landscape in the
area, which has been continuously inhabited and shaped since
Roman times. Another symbolic point regarding this issue is the
fact that one of the newest political parties in Romania, that
attracted almost 9% of the votes at the parliamentary elections
in December 2016, is a party grown from a NGO that defends the
built heritage of Bucharest against the abuses of developers and
authorities.
There are several dozens of other NGOs active in the field of built
heritage, most of them in Transylvania, Bucharest and other big
cities. Financed by donations and public funds awarded through
competition, the associations, foundations, professional or
religious organisations, but also mere individuals have mainly a
local or a regional impact. Most are involved in promoting the
built heritage or in research and dissemination of the research
findings to the general public and few are supporting conservation
119
– restoration interventions and worker training.
Assessment errors in the public perception of the built heritage
Overall, there are two main assessment errors in the public
perception of the built heritage to be encountered, the most
frequent being “it’s mine” – the cultural value of the heritage
is denied or is considered of lesser importance than the
economic one, therefore the property rights are above all other
considerations. This attitude is very common, from the owner of
a 19th century eclectic house who claims their right to demolish
the old construction in order to build a bigger, multi-storey
one, to the parish priest in a remote village who initiates by
himself inappropriate repairs of the centuries-old church and
even to the representatives of local authorities who decide to
“renovate” the historic town hall, without complying with the
legal requirements16 .
The other bias is “it belongs to others / nobody” – the cultural
value of the heritage is not necessarily denied, but the
observers do not appropriate it, excluding themselves from the
beneficiaries’ group. This perception leads either to indifference
or to vandalism and is often the case of the heritage created by
or belonging to individuals or ethnic / religious groups no longer
present, mainly due to individual or mass emigration.
The most endangered categories of built heritage17
The Romanian village conserved its architectural specificity up
until the mid-twentieth century, when the communist regime
carried on the forced collectivisation and nationalisation of
the private properties. Over the following decades, many
countrymen leave the villages for towns and cities, to provide
workforce for the newly established industrial facilities. This rapid
industrialisation put an end to the ancestral ways of dwelling and
living in harmony with nature and had a major contribution to the
 3. The fortified church of Velț,
Bazna Town, Sibiu County – The
apse collapsed in 1999
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2016
120
loss of traditional knowledge.
Captive between nostalgic idealization, as the primary source of
the traditional identity, and a precarious existence, determined
by the irresponsible agricultural policies in the last 29 years,
the present Romanian village seems to have forgotten much
of its past and struggles to find a new identity. Aside from
many valuable old buildings that survived in their environment,
facing every day the serious challenges of abandonment or
modernisation by improper interventions, some of the original
buildings and artefacts are frozen in time in the several open-air
museums to be encountered throughout the country.
As a result of the massive emigration of the Saxons, their villages
in Transylvania faced an even more dramatic change of their
social, ethnic, religious structure, with major effects upon the built
heritage. Alongside Romanian, Hungarian, Roma residents and
the few Saxons left or returned from abroad, in the last decades a
heterogeneous community of newcomers, permanent residents
or just holiday home owners settled in Transylvania’s villages.
Roma population, expatriates of various nationalities, including
descendants of emigrated Saxons, won over by the authenticity
of the village, urban migrants looking for a different way of life,
businessmen and conservative-restorers are often found here.
New occupants settled in the old Saxon houses over time, but
most of the churches remain deserted.
Large and robust, the majority of fortified Saxon churches (fig.
3) raise relatively simple conservation – restoration problems,
which could have been easily avoided with proper maintenance18
. Nevertheless, as massive constructions erected and maintained
by peasant communities over many generations, some of the
churches face special situations – complex ground conditions,
construction deficiencies or improper structural interventions,
which today, after decades of neglect and/or repeated acts of
4. The out of use Orthdox
Synagogue of Brașov, 64 Castelului
Street, built in 1924
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2016
121
vandalism, bring them to the brink of collapse or even turn them
into a state of partial ruin19 . Their decay rate is clearly exceeding
the intervention capacities of their legal administrator, the
Consistory of the Evangelical Church20 and of the authorities in
charge, so there is a real need for additional help and probably
also for new scenarios of use. However, some of them are
wonderfully restored and are attracting a great number of tourist
coming from all over the world.
For the same reasons, many of the approximately 120 synagogues
(fig. 4) around the country share the fate of the Saxon churches.
In several successive waves of politically and/or economically
determined migration, the Jewish communities moved mainly
to Israel21 . Few of the synagogues are still in use and even fewer
have been recently restored.
Given the different religious identity of their founding groups,
both protestant Saxon churches and Jewish synagogues fall
under “others’ / nobody’s heritage” bias. Their fate is shared
by other cultic buildings, like abandoned Orthodox and Greek
Catholic churches belonging to communities disintegrated in time
due to various reasons, usually economic migration. Without a
community to serve, they seem doomed to ruin and extinction.
Many towns and cities that lost their economic status during the
last century are now facing re cession, poverty and population
decline caused mainly by labour migration. On the Danube’s bank,
for example, there are some formerly thriving cities that lost their
special status following economic changes at the end of the 19th
century, like Brăila and Sulina22 , which foster a rich, but neglected
multicultural built heritage.
After the regime change in 1989 and the following privatisation
process, that in some cases resulted in the closure of important
industrial facilities, a new series of formerly industrialised
towns lost their economic engines. Unemployed, people started
 5. The 2012 restoration project
of Vlad Sebastian Rusu for the
Cultural Palace of Blaj, Alba
County, a metaphor of the fire in
1995 that destroyed the building
Photo credit: Cosmin Dragomir,
2016
6. Roșia Montană mining cultural
landscape, with the most extensive
mining system known in the
Roman world
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2014
122
to migrate abroad or to other cities, again with important
consequences for the built heritage. The shrinking cities
phenomenon is affecting places like Târgoviște, Tulcea, Giurgiu,
Botoșani and many others, as the mining-towns from the Jiu
Valley, Apuseni Mountains and other mining areas in the country23
. Degraded through lack of maintenance, the historic buildings
are once again subject to major threat when (if!) the owners
return from abroad, willing to invest their financial gains into a
more comfortable and modern home, which often translates into
replacing the old wood window frames with PVC frames with
double-glazing and insulating the walls, obviously covering any
stucco decorations. The same mechanism, minus labour migration
abroad, applies to many public buildings, whose administrators
share the same vision of “modernisation” and the perception of
“it’s mine, so I do what I want with it”. However, there also are
exemplary restoration works, as the now beautiful Cultural Palace
of Blaj (fig. 5), restored in 2016 to a project by Vlad Sebastian
Rusu.
Around the country, there are around 40 spa resorts still in
use, some of them having a long history and a correspondingly
valuable built heritage. Over time, some of these buildings were
bought as assets by delusive investors (the restoration being a
condition for the privatisation), but this did not protected them
against abandon, as the promised expenditures are still awaited.
One of the most representative is the Herculane resort, where the
majority of hotels and other buildings are abandoned.
For obvious reasons, the heritage built in a territory of great
economic value – land for real estate development in the cities
or underground deposits of gold, silver and other precious
metals, as in Roșia Montană area, is particularly threatened. A
controversial mining project proposed by a private company,
involving a huge open-pit mining operation using cyanide, in
order to exploit gold and other precious metals from the Apuseni
Mountains gathered the support of a part of the society, including
some decision-makers. The project required major changes of
the area’s topography, including the razing of mountain tops,
several villages, archaeological sites dating from the Roman
times and the destruction of a cultural landscape shaped over
centuries by continuous gold exploitation. Following the massive
street protests in 2013, the Parliament rejected the law and since
February 2016 Roșia Montană Mining Cultural Landscape is on the
UNESCO’s World Heritage Tentative List (fig. 6). However, despite
the positive course of the nomination process, at the beginning
of June 2018 the Romanian Government asked for a postponing
of the decision regarding the proposal, just weeks before the
foreseeable registration on the UNESCO’s World Heritage List,
during the 42nd session of World Heritage Committee to be held
in Manama, Bahrain, from June 24 to July 4, 2018.
Another particularly exposed heritage category consists of the
numerous manors, palaces and castles to be encountered
throughout the entire territory of the country. Their major
vulnerabilities have roots in the policies of the communist
regime: after surviving, often badly deteriorated, a decades-
long inappropriate use, the once fine buildings had to face
new menaces derived from the change of their legal status.
Confiscated by the communist regime soon after its installation
and carelessly used for decades as field farms, hospitals,
kindergartens, schools, warehouses and administrative or
industrial facilities, after the regime change in 1989 some of them
have been returned to the survivors of the initial owners, while
others passed into the property of their occupants / users at the
time. In some cases, the ownership is still subject to pending
lawsuits that have lasted for years, while the building itself is
rapidly degrading.
As their restoration can be fairly expensive, following restitution,
most of the manors, palaces and castles were either sold or/
and left to oblivion. Especially when isolated outside towns,
the abandoned ones are perceived as belonging to nobody and
become subject to vandalism, which furthers their decay. Very
few have been restored and are used as residential dwellings,
restaurants, guest houses, museums, public buildings and so on.
The archaeological sites, isolated or not, are also highly
endangered. If there are some other tourist sites in the area and
people from other regions / countries are interested to visit the
archaeological remains also, the site is appreciated and to some
extent protected by the local community, as it is seen as a source
of profit through tourism, but the reverse is the development
pressure which can become harmful. If isolated in an area with
no tourist infrastructure, given the low awareness of the public
towards built heritage and especially towards the archaeological
one (no so easily accessible to understanding without specific
education), the site may have no meaning at all for the locals
and hence be prone to vandalism, carried out either by the area
residents or passers-by. Other hazards are represented by the
“treasure hunters”, the amateur “archaeologists” who dig illegally
and take the findings, on the principle “I found it, it’s mine”24,
causing damage to the embedded structures.
Some of the long ago ruined structures face the danger of
arbitrary reconstruction, as the mirage of European funds is
captivating many local decision-makers. Driven by economic
and political interests, the bad projects affect to a great extent
the authenticity of historic monuments and counterfeit their
appearance for the sake of tourist attractiveness. And, of course,
the unaware public appreciates the result nevertheless, while
the professional critique is expressed mostly in unclear, muted
tones25.
7. House in Roșia Montană
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2014
8. The abandoned manor
Callimachi-Văcărescu, Mănești
Town, Prahova County
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2013
123
Affected by the same lack of awareness, the Romanian industrial
heritage is another “stepchild” of the built heritage family, being
commonly perceived as no cultural heritage at all and frequently
abandoned, when not demolished.26 However, although rare,
there are beautiful examples of former industrial facilities that
concurrent with a successful restoration received contemporary
functions27 .
Another category of heritage waiting for a better time to come is
represented by the constructions built during the “Golden Era”,
the bombastic, propagandistic name given to the period under
the communist rule by the regime itself. Too recent for being
considered historic monuments and still negatively perceived,
the products of the totalitarian architecture are consistently not
perceived as cultural heritage.
A paradoxical situation occurs when it comes to memorial
heritage. Although a general consensus regarding the memorial
value of some edifices it is understood, when it comes to
funding and action, only few react. This fate is shared by many
buildings, regardless of their nature: memorial houses of cultural
and political personalities, former political prisons and many
other structures that fostered important historical events. Even
in the year of Centenary, very belatedly, only few of the local
administrations found the necessary funds to conserve and
restore the memorial houses of some of the personalities of the
First World War and the Great Union, while several mausoleums
of the First World War heroes still wait for conservation.
Perspectives for the Romanian built heritage
Over time, ways of living are changing and communities have
to find new roles for their old buildings. Development implies
revisiting the structures of the past, but doing it irrespective of
their cultural value means gaining too little for a price that no one
 9. The restoration works at the site
of Capidava fortress (project by
Abral Art Product). The works have
been stopped in December 2015
and will probably resume during
the current year (2018).
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2015
10. SIGHET Space for prayer and
recollection in the former prison
for political detainees of Sighet.
Photo credit: Cătălina Bulborea,
2011
124
can afford: the loss of cultural identity.
Very diverse in terms of age, materials, functions, architectural
style and territorial distribution, the historic buildings
throughout the country present themselves in all possible
states, but unfortunately the majority of them approach or have
already reached an advanced state of decay. Sometimes their
conservation state depends on whether the building is located
in the rural area (where the communities are more likely to be
poor and the authorities’ control is more likely to be loose), or
within a town or a city (where the land is much more valuable in
the light of real estate development, but also the awareness of
some passers-by is higher), whether the owner is a private or a
public entity and even whether the access road is poorly or well
maintained.
However, there is always a strong connection between the state
of conservation of the built heritage and its public perception
as a cultural value, that acts like a vicious circle: as long as
the community does not value its built heritage, the elected
officials will not consider it a priority when addressing the public
issues. Therefore, they will not allocate funds for the heritage
conservation, nor will they develop or implement policies in
respect to the education of the public regarding cultural values.
It is absolutely necessary to implement a coherent system of
measures for the cultural heritage protection, based on a value
system endorsed by the state, which includes the acceptance of
all ethnic, religious and cultural identities existing or that once
existed on its territory. To ensure the success of such a system
it is crucial to shape it according to the citizen’ perceptions and
to strengthen the administrative capacity in order to apply it,
but both are impossible in the absence of political commitment.
This vicious circle can and must be broken by the heritage
professionals with the help of the civil society , because as a
society28, we cannot afford to wait for the general population, nor
for the politicians, to raise their awareness by themselves: it will
take too long and we will lose too much.
NOTES
1
Architectural style, sometimes called the National style or the Neo-Brancovan
style, established by a group of Romanian architects towards the end of the 19th
century, of whom the most famous is Ion Mincu (1852 - 1912).
2
The architectural programme is common throughout the Balkans, being
referred to with very similar words in the whole, otherwise, multicultural area,
of, paradoxically, Turkish origin, deriving from an Arabic root.
3
Following its participation in World War I, on 1st of December 1918 the
Romanian provinces unified. The achievement is celebrated as the Great Union.
4
This was the propagandistic name given to the period under the communist
rule by the regime itself.
5
Some excerpts from this chapter were published in the volume Country Report
– The International Course for Cultural Heritage Management, published by
the Education Center for Traditional Culture of the Korea National University of
Cultural Heritage in September 2017, Buyeo, South Korea.
6
The Orthodoxy is the dominant religion throughout the country, but
Romania does not have an official religion. There are important Roman
Catholic communities in Transylvania, Moldavia and in the western regions
of the provinces of Banat, Crișana and Maramureș. Home to pluri-religious
communities, with members belonging to the Greek Catholic Church, Lutherans,
Unitarians, Calvinists, Jews and Muslims, Transylvania was a true religious
melting pot. In the 13th century a Turk community settled in Dobrudja and
starting from the 14th and the 15th centuries, large Jewish communities settled
in Moldavia, coming from Central and Western Europe.
7
During the 1877–1878 Russo-Turkish War, the country gained its independence
from the Ottoman Empire fighting on the Russian side.
8
The new regime centralised the entire economy, by imposing the
nationalisation of most properties.
9
According to the socialist principles, the regime considered that the wealth
of prosperous citizens, irrespective of social class, was built on working class’s
exploitation of labour.
10
The earthquake had a magnitude of 7.2 and killed more than 1500 people, of
whom over 1400 in Bucharest, where 33 large buildings collapsed.
11
There are 6871 historic monument in this category. Romania has 6 edifices or
groups of edifices listed as cultural heritage by UNESCO and another 20 positions
on the Tentative List (including cross-border heritage sites). For further details,
see http://whc.unesco.org/en/statesparties/ro
12
In 2013, the funds attributed by the Ministry to the National Restoration Plan,
drafted and managed by the National Institute of Heritage, amounted around
EUR 6 million, while in 2016 it reached 6.7 million. The actual figures for 2017
and 2018 are not publicly available.
13
During the communist rule, the citizens were not allowed to travel abroad
freely.
14
As for June 2018, according to a controversial project that is currently being
discussed in the Parliament, the illegal interventions on protected built heritage
shall constitute an offence (currently they are considered criminal offences) and
shall incur a maximum fine of around 21000 euros.
15
Two recent cases from the capital city: the foundations of the first Romanian
Academy, demolished in 2011 to make room for an underground car park, and
the Matache Hall, demolished in 2013, alongside many other historic buildings,
as a part of a systematization project for a new avenue. Subsequently, the court
ruled that the actions were illegal. Both projects were promoted by the City Hall
of Bucharest.
16
These examples reflect the professional experience of the author.
17
Some excerpts from this chapter were published in the volume Country Report
– The International Course for Cultural Heritage Management, published by
the Education Center for Traditional Culture of the Korea National University of
Cultural Heritage in September 2017, Buyeo, South Korea.
18
There are around 200 fortified Saxon churches left, the majority under national
protection. Seven of them, along with their villages, are inscribed on UNESCO’s
World Heritage List (Saschiz, Prejmer, Valea Viilor, Câlnic, Dârjiu, Biertan and
Viscri).
19
Many of them are in a poor conservation state, impending precollapse. In
2016 the churches’ towers of Roadeș (built and fortified between the 14th– 15th
centuries) and Rotbav (13th– 15th centuries) partially collapsed.
20
There are controversies around some restoration projects promoted by the
Consistory of the Evangelical Church through its affiliated foundation, Stiftung
Kirchenburgen, especially regarding the replacement of old handmade clay roof
tiles with industrial ones.
21
According to the 2011 census carried out by the National Institute of Statistics,
in the last 70 years the Jewish population of Romania decreased to less than 1%
of the number registered in 1948.
22
The easternmost town in Romania and also in the European Union, Sulina
is situated in the Danube Delta and can only be reached by boat. It thrived as
establishment of Lower Danube Commission, that functioned here between
125
1856 and 1940. Today it is a fishing town with a population of around 3600
people.
23
In the last 20 years, over 550 mines and quarries throughout the country
were closed or are still in the process of being closed due to economic non-
competitiveness, as reported by the Economics publication “Capital”, the online
edition of 26 June 2013. (http://www.capital.ro/miliardul-ingropat-in-inchiderea-
minelor-183615.html)
24
The use of metal detectors is regulated by law and is allowed for amateurs
provided they are registered, only outside the archaeological areas. However,
the violations are not rare and therefore, there is much debate in the
professional field about the conditions of use of metal detectors. The most
notable criminal case of this kind is the smuggling of the 13 golden Dacian
bracelets from the Sarmizegetusa area. Recovered mostly from private collectors
abroad during the early 2000s, they are on display at the Romanian National
History Museum. The case prosecutor at the time, Mr. Augustin Lazăr, is the
current General Prosecutor of Romania.
25
A counterexample is the case of the Capidava fortress, in Constanța County, a
former Dacian settlement, turned to a Roman castrum and lately to a Byzantine
fortification. Part of the Roman Empire limes, the fortress was subject to a
controversial restoration project initiated by the County Council, that destroyed
large parts of it. Subject to heated debates, the project was blocked in 2015 and
will probably resume during the current year, with important corrections.
26
The tobacco factory, later knitting factory “Someșul” in Cluj was demolished
in 2007, the paper factory in Bușteni was demolished in 2012 and the list can go
on.
27
Some examples: the former Customs Warehouse in Bucharest transformed
into offices and events space, known as The Ark (project by Re-Act Now, 2008),
the “Universul” Palace, also in Bucharest, a former newspaper office and
typography turned into a multifunctional space (project by PZP Arhitectura,
2016), the “Carol” Halls, still in Bucharest, a mechanical factory turned into a
multifunctional space (project by Zepellin and Eurodite, 2014), the Waterwork of
Suceava City was converted into an architectural and cultural centre (project by
Constantin Gorcea, NW Subsidiary of The National Order of Architects Romania,
2010).
28
A promising solution, to be explored at a larger scale (already successfully
tested in a pilot project called “The Ambulance for Monuments” that I have
initiated in 2016 along with the “Monumentum” Association from Alțâna, Sibiu
County), is a closer partnership between local authorities and civil society –
NGOs in the field, who can execute emergency interventions and volunteering
actions for safeguarding endangered monuments.
 A GLIMPSE OF URBAN DEVELOPMENT AND MONUMENT PRESERVATION IN BUCHAREST
Emilia ȚUGUI
126
“Bucharest, a city of European destiny and vocation, a city
tormented by the totalitarian regime, remains a city that needs to
be understood, considered and restored.1”
Introduction
In 2013, a new avenue was inaugurated in Bucharest. It is located
at the western limit of the city center, in an area that concentrates
dense traditional urban tissue of historical and architectural value.
Built over several years, after many architects advanced different
versions and proposals but no official competition was organized
to select a solution2 - it followed the official plan, agreed upon and
designed according to a traffic study.
The project of the new avenue connecting Victoriei Square to
the south-western part of the city included the enlargement of
existing streets: Buzești Street, to the north, continued by Berzei
Street south-wise (Fig. 1). That required the demolition of the
western front on almost the whole length of the avenue, with
some of the buildings listed as historic monuments3. The fact that
the new avenue was planned to cut through a historic, densely
built and traditionally commercial area, linking the historic
center to the main railway station, was cause for controversy
among professionals and civic organizations, generating tense
and emotional moments. The objectors of the project (in the
version which was eventually executed) coalesced around a 19th
century building listed as a monument – the Matache Macelarul
Market. Their choice was not fortuitous. Located halfway on the
new avenue, where Buzesti Street turns into Berzei, the Matache
Market gave its name to the whole surrounding neighborhood.
Close to the North Station and to a densely built network of
streets, the Matache Market was isolated from other buildings,
in an enlargement of the pedestrian area of the western side
of Buzesti Street, and framed by continuous house fronts. The
building faced the only public monument in the area – the bust
of dr. Haralambie Botescu (dated from 1923). As the last building
to be demolished to make way for the avenue4, Matache Market
became a symbol of the fight to defend the patrimonial values
of the area (a fight led by both professionals and laymen). The
fiery and sometimes highly emotional debates brought to light,
one more time, the contemporary controversy on monument
preservation and restoration in the Romanian society, usually
between authorities and the civil society, with the contribution
of a professional community divided between monument
preservation concerns and urban development seen as a
complete renewal of the urban tissue5.
The idea that urban development means a complete renewal
of the urban fabric and buildings is based on the belief that the
old city structure (with the apparently unsystematic streets and
buildings that did not follow the contemporary regulations) is
incompatible with the needs of modern city life. Hard to decipher,
Bucharest was not erected according to the principles of the
western medieval burg6. Questioned by recent studies7, the
conventional opinion is that Bucharest was the result of the
uncontrolled development of one or merging of several rural
structures, that created the pattern of the city. The idea still
prevails the author of the project for the Buzești-Berzei Avenue,
architect Constantin Enache, declared in an interview where he
was defending his project: “Condemning Bucharest to inertia and
to a rural existence is a fundamental error.8”
Although the Buzești-Berzei Avenue controversy started from
other premises, the magnitude of the public debate surrounding
a topic of urban development is similar to the debates of the
90s on then unfinished “People’s House” and Civic Center. After
the size of the destruction caused in order to make place for the
new developments was revealed, the debate focused on how to
integrate (or not) the massive structures into the city tissue, and
less on how the old buildings and bits of traditional urban tissue
that survived behind curtains of apartment buildings could be
“recovered” and reinserted in a coherent urban plan.
Even if they are the starting point of our reflection, the paper will
not analyze the two abovementioned projects. The position in the
following is to step back in time and present some urban planning
case studies from the 30s and 50s. They have been chosen due to
their proximity and connection to the Buzești-Berzei Avenue and
could shed some light on this project.
The place of the study area on the Bucharest map and the link
between the different projects
The three areas selected as case studies are situated on the north
side of the historic city center. The location for the proposed
Academy Square is on Calea Victoriei (Victory Avenue), north
of the Royal Palace, linked to the west to Romană Square, by
Dacia Avenue. The area is connected to the east to Buzești-Berzei
Avenue, and further on to the North Station Square by Griviței
Avenue and Mircea Vulcănescu Street. Calea Victoriei and Buzești
Berzei Avenue converge on the south side of Victoriei Square.
Finally, the Buzești-Berzei Avenue, oriented north-south, divides
the triangle formed by the three sites in two parts.
The Evolution of Bucharest City Planning
The boulevards completed in the 19th century, after the
French urban planning model, are fragments of a larger urban
intervention project and were aimed to resolve the connections
of disparate points of interest within the city, without creating a
coherent network. Before World War I, new boulevard projects
were conceived outside the traditional areas of interest for major
“investments”, therefore outside the highly urbanized area of the
1. Buzești-Berzei area, 2002 and
2016 comparison situation: Ma-
tache Market (1), The Academy
Square project area (2), Victoriei
Square (3), North Station Square (4)
(Google earth 2016, data provider
DigitalGlobe, Imagery date: 24 Feb-
ruary 2002 and 22 February 2016.
44°26’45.12”N, 26°05’01.05”E,
elevation 82M. Viewed 22 April
2017).
127
time9.
After a public contest in 1906, the studies for a citywide
urban plan appeared only late, preceded by some important
interventions to create boulevards or enlarge existing streets
built in the 19th century10. Different studies were completed
in 1914, 1916, 1919-192111. In 1930-1931, under king Carol
II12, a significant urban study was completed13 under the
patronage of the mayor of Bucharest, Dem. I. Dobrescu. The
solutions for city development were disputed among the society,
including architects14. Some of the later urban interventions
were influenced by previous proposals, several designed in
the 19th century, trying to integrate the existing boulevards
into a structure15. Urban planning after World War II was
strongly influenced by the Soviet model and by the totalitarian
architecture laid down by the USSR16. After the Stalinist ideology
of the 1950s, followed by a decade when architecture and urban
theory were influenced by functionalism, dictated by the Soviet
model of Khrushchev’s de-Stalinization campaign, the 1970s and
1980s saw a return to an even stricter “Stalinist model”, imposed
by Nicolae Ceaușescu17. The model was established in a series
of laws and directives similar to urban regulations, rigorously
limiting freedom of creation and thought18. The pinnacle of this
architectural and urban model was the Civic Center project in
Bucharest19. Located in the southern area of the historic center, it
involved demolishing a large part of the historic tissue.
The fall of the dictatorial regime was followed by a time of
prospect, with many contests (some international) meant to
find solutions for some important places in Bucharest: Victoriei
Square, Revolution Square, and the “People’s House”. The
latter triggered one of the largest international urban design
competitions of the time, “Bucharest 2000”, organized in 1996 to
repurpose the undesirable symbol of dictatorship and to integrate

128
the brutal interventions of the 1980s into the fabric of the old
city. Arch. Dana Harhoiu remarked at the time: “Bucharest deals
with the reintegration of some hundreds of hectares into the city
structure, with long term investments and works. However, the
acuity of this task is threatened by a sort of confusion of values
that still persists after almost fifty years of totalitarian regime,
that risks to open the path to dilettantism, and simultaneously, to
validate the totalitarian features in urban space.20”
The period after 2000 is characterized by dissipated interventions,
frequently the results of speculative investment in real estate,
exceeding the urban regulations and often built over demolished
old buildings, some listed as monuments. Great projects were
promoted over the last years by Bucharest City Hall, such as the
“urban suspended highway” or “the Bucharest gondola”, but
those actually completed were mostly car tunnels in various
major junctions outside the city center. Notable exceptions
were the Basarab overpass, inaugurated in 2011, and Buzești-
Berzei Avenue, inaugurated in 2014. Both projects required
the demolition of buildings, among which a few historic
monuments21.
The Academy Square Project
The Academiei Square was proposed for the Calea Victoriei
junction with the new Dacia Avenue – on the segment that linked
Romană Square to Griviței Avenue.
The last main road to be designed before World War I, the Dacia
Avenue plans were approved in 190922. Part of the interior
ring, the avenue was designed as an important east-west link,
crossing the northern part of the city center. The works were
not completed before 1945, with the last bits (the east and west
extremities) completed, according to the original 1909 plan, in the
1980s23.
The northern part of Calea Victoriei, where the project is located,
was built at medium density. The most important buildings of
the inter-war period were of three main types: old houses with
large gardens belonging to noble families, houses for one or two
families built after the Independence War (1877), and apartment
buildings housing several families24. Now, the area has five
buildings listed as historic monuments of national importance and
six buildings listed as monuments of local importance25.
In 1925, the Romanian Academy administration decided to
contact foreign architects to design a Romanian Academy Palace.
A year later, it was however decided that a contest should be
organized for Romanian architects. The winner of the contest
was architect Duiliu Marcu, with a project entitled “Rome”26. The
author considered the lack of perspective as a key urban issue for
the location of the building and proposed that its interior courts
opened to Calea Victoriei. The plan was of “monumental, original
architecture, with a traditional character”27.
Three years later, the architect was commissioned to redesign
the project to new requirements28. From the very beginning of
the new study, arch. Duiliu Marcu had in mind “the architectural
context, in which the new building should represent the center
of gravity of a magnificent ensemble composition”29. Despite
the concentration of constructions in the adjacent area, “the
architectural context” did not refer to the existing buildings, but
to the new structures meant to form the Academy complex,
organized around a rectangular square. The complex, shaping
a monumental square, was organized on both sides of Calea
Victoriei (Fig. 2)30. The square was thought as part of a succession
of five urban squares on Calea Victoriei, from the northernmost
point in Victoriei Square to the Royal Palace Square, in the south.
Built in the vicinity, the Palace of the Administration of State
Monopol (arch. Duiliu Marcu, 1934-1941) was designed in U
On the previous page:
2. Collage of site plans of the Ro-
manian Academy project (1935,
1936-1937) and the Palace of the
Administration of State Monopol
project (1934-1941), showing the
buildings proposed for demolition
(green) and the new building (blue);
in darker colors – the buildings
that still exist today (located in the
center of the image, in the white
area, the Monteoru House was not
reprezented on the plans, but is
still on site today) (Marcu, Duiliu,
Architecture. 1930-1940. București:
Imprimerie “Bucovina” I. E. Torou- 129
tiu, 1946, p. 76, 224).
On the current page:
3. Proposal for the Romanian Acad-
emy complex (study from 1957-
1959) (Marcu, Duiliu, Arhitectură.
1912-1960. București: Editura
Tehnică, 1960, p. 545).
4. Image of Sturdza Palace, the for-
mer Palace of the Ministry of Exter-
nal Affairs in Victoriei Square, that
was demolished after WWII (left)
and together with the new Palace
of the Ministry of External Affairs
designed by Duiliu Marcu (right)
(Marcu, Duiliu, Arhitectură. 1912-
1960. București: Editura Tehnică,
1960, p. 556, 559).
shape and was planned to be extended in the future with a The second and third solutions were asymmetrical compositions,
building on its northern side, on Dacia Avenue, that created a proposing a large square opening into the new boulevard.
private interior court for employees31. The plans of the buildings, Drawings presented in Duiliu Marcu’s 1960 book mentioned the
as presented by the architect, included the extension (never Vernescu House as a “historic monument” and kept it outside the
executed) facing the new Dacia Avenue, to the site of the project ensemble. The architect presented the demolition of Monteoru
for the Academy complex (Fig. 2)32. House and of another building (the “IPC building”), on the Calea
The studies for the Academy Square were resumed after Victoriei and Calea Griviței corner, as a disadvantage of the
the World War II (1956-1959). The first solution was a large, second solution.
enclosed rectangular square, crossed by Calea Victoriei, with The third solution kept both Vernescu House and Monteoru
buildings ordered symmetrically on a long east-west axis and a House (mentioned as “historic monument”). The new complex
large building in the center. The proposal extended beyond the integrated the theater hall built in the 1950s as an extension of
Academy grounds, over other properties, going towards Cosma the former German Legation (Cesianu House), without keeping
Street (now Henri Coandă Street) on the eastern side of the the old Cesianu House itself. The architect noted that in the third
avenue and to the north up to Nicolae Iorga Street. Monteoru solution “all important buildings and historic monuments were
House was sacrificed in order to extend the new Dacia Avenue. kept untouched” (Fig. 4)33.

130
Victoriei Square
The 1950s plans for the Academy Square were related to the
Victoriei Square study. A plan of a larger area of the city including
both studies was presented by the architect in his 1960 book.
The plan included to extend Dacia Avenue to the west and to link
Sfinții Voievozi Square and St Joseph’s Roman-Catholic Cathedral
by penetrating the existing tissue, to extend the enlarged
Budișteanu Street to the north34.
Being commissioned to design the Palace of the Ministry of
External Affairs (built in 1937, now Victoria Palace, home to the
Romanian Government) was an opportunity for arch. Duiliu
Marcu to study a solution for the adjacent urban space. At the
confluence of eight large boulevards, the Victoriei Square area is
still not organized today: a large space of complicated geometry,
bordered by buildings of different heights and styles, some listed
as monuments. The situation described by Duiliu Marcu in 1960
was similar35.
The square, which constituted the northern limit of the city until
mid-19th century, was designed in 1894 with a rigorous geometry
On the previous page:
5. Proposals for the Victoriei
Square, Duiliu Marcu, 1937 (Marcu,
Duiliu, Arhitectură. 1912-1960.
București: Editura Tehnică, 1960, p.
152, 153).
On the current page:
6. Various studies for the Victoriei
Square, Duiliu Marcu, 1959 (Marcu,
Duiliu, Arhitectură. 1912-1960.
București: Editura Tehnică, 1960, p.
596, 597).
7. Proposal for the Victoriei Square,
Duiliu Marcu, 1959. Left (proposed 131
plan): new buildings in black, old
buildings in gray; right (demoli-
tion plan): new buildings in white,
buildings proposed for demolition
in black (Marcu, Duiliu, Arhitectură.
1912-1960. București: Editura
Tehnică, 1960, p. 599, 603).
(a circle with a 75 m radius)36. Studies from 1895-1902 showed
the Public Servants Palace outlining the southernmost part of
the square, between Calea Victoriei and Buzești Street. The 1911
plan proposed a round square embellished with trees, bordered
with buildings on the south side, the Sturdza Palace on the east
and the Antipa Museum to the north-west, facing Kiseleff Park
(between Kiseleff and Jianu Boulevards)37. The two buildings
to be demolished later (Sturdza Palace and the Public Servants
Palace) were still on the site in the 1930s38.
As the architect explained39, the new Ministry of External
Affairs was designed in 1937 as a compromise to the request
of keeping the existing buildings: the Sturdza Palace, where the
Ministry of External Affairs functioned at the time, and some
military barracks. Duiliu Marcu sought a new design for Victoriei
Square. The new palace was placed on the side of a north-
south symmetrical composition, as an element subordinated
to the main building40. Shaped as a horseshoe, the new square
was oriented to the north-east, towards Jianu Boulevard (now
Aviatorilor), with a large administrative building outlining the

132
south side, on the axis of the boulevard. Instead of the Antipa
Museum, another building was proposed, in the same E shape,
but rotated to face the new palace. A monument occupied the
middle of the new urban space. The square was almost double in
size than the prewar proposals, with a symmetrical composition
in the axis of Jianu Boulevard and a continuous front with large
porticoes on the buildings edging the south side (Fig. 5)41.
Both solutions sacrificed the Antipa Museum, replacing it with
a similar building in shape and size, only symmetrical with the
new palace. The south side of the square was pushed back (into
Buzești Street, Calea Victoriei and Lascar Catargiu Boulevard), over
buildings proposed to be demolished42.
In his 1960 book, in an introduction to the Victoria Palace chapter
(the project of the new Ministry of External Affairs), the architect
offered a long explanation about the reasoning behind the
project. He confessed that he had asked the authorities of the
1930s to find larger grounds for the new ministry building, in
the hope of saving the Sturdza Palace (see Image 4). The answer
was that the Palace had to be demolished and was to be kept
only until the completion of the new building. The architect also
explained the organization of the square, in order to justify some
of the decisions regarding the volumes and facades of the new
Palace. The building was planned as “a secondary construction,
... one of the annexes for a main (semicircular or rectangular)
building to be designed and built later.” 43
A new study of the square was prepared in 1957, proposing a
largely rectangular shape, with a massive building on the south
side as the center of the symmetrical composition, oriented
towards the Aviatorilor Boulevard. The square was doubled by
surrounding streets, enlarging the area of the intervention44. In
1959, yet another study was made, covering an extended area,
including the adjacent streets on the east and west sides of the
square. The three versions of the latter study advanced deep into
the south-west side, all the way to Sevastolpol Street, proposing
to turn Buzești Street into a wide avenue lined with continuous
fronts of buildings on both sides and bordered by trees45.
The final proposal presented included a solution for the
surrounding streets, designed to take over the burden of
public transportation, including part of the traffic. A vertical
accent was proposed on the south-east corner of the square,
at the intersection of Lascăr Catargiu and Iancu de Hunedoara
boulevards. A car tunnel was planned on the east-west direction,
doubled by two streets on the ground level, and was later
executed accordingly. The center of the composition, on the south
side, was a large building to accommodate a public library. A
statue of Lenin was placed in front of it, with a wide perspective
over Aviatorilor and Kiseleff Boulevards (Fig. 6).
The last proposal extended the study area and highlighted Buzești
Street, treating it as a new avenue, lined with high buildings (Fig.
7). Buzești Street was presented as an important link to the North
Station and to the southwestern part of the city, and was enlarged
to 30m, with seven stories high apartment buildings surrounded
by green areas. The street linked Victoriei Square to the
Administrative Palace of the Ministry of Transportation (Fig. 8).
North Station Square
One of the ambitions of the Bucharest administration before
World War I was to build a large central railway station. The
proposed location of the project was at the junction of the first
modern urban interventions in Bucharest: the first avenue and
the new course of the Dâmbovița River on the place of the
current Operei Square46. Eventually, the idea was abandoned
and the area was studied for a “University Citadel” (Cetatea
Universitară)47. The existing North Station was extended and
8. Plan showing the relation between
the three urban square studies by
Duiliu Marcu: Academiei Square
(2), Victoriei Square (3), North
Station Square (4), and the posi-
tion of Buzești-Berzei streets and
Matache Market (1) (Marcu, Duiliu,
Arhitectură. 1912-1960. București:
Editura Tehnică, 1960, p. 600).
133
maintained as the main railway station of the city. The Ministry of
Transportation decided to concentrate its different administrative
offices into a single building. In 1933-1934, Duiliu Marcu was
commissioned for the project, located in front of the North
Railway Station (Fig. 9). The architect started with an urban
study of the surrounding area48. The volume of the building was
designed based on this study. The urban proposal planned to link
the square between the ministry and the station with the inner
ring of the city (Buzești and Berzei Streets)49.
The urban space is designed as a rectangular square, with
the two main buildings facing each other. On both sides of
the administrative building the streets are designed as linear
extensions to east (towards Buzești and Berzei Streets). The
rectangular building of the ministry has between three and
11 floors. The height increases gradually, from the level of the
existing urban tissue to a monumental height facing the square.
However, the design of the new urban space did not establish a
relation with the existing urban tissue and streets pattern. The
rigorous geometry, the symmetrical composition, and large size
of the plot had nothing in common with the narrow surrounding
streets and small parcels.
Conclusion
Of the three squares presented here, the only one executed
according to architect Duiliu Marcu’s design was the square
between the North Station and the Palace of the Ministry
of Transportation (North Station Square )50. The connection
between the bordering north street and the new Buzești-Berzei
Avenue was completed in 2014. The intersection of the two new
avenues was designed as a large, round urban square, with its
central part open to traffic (Fig. 10). The solution determined an

134
increase of the demolished area.
Arch. Constantin Enache, author of the Buzești-Berzei Avenue
project, said in an interview51: “One of the goals of the project
was to bring the North Station as close as possible to the center
of Bucharest”. Referring to the demolitions required to connect
the bordering north street to the new Buzești-Berzei Avenue,
he mentioned: “We had to decide between two historic urban
structures, both of patrimony value, or at least officially listed as
monuments. We had on the one hand the buildings of Baldovin
Pârcalabu and Cameliei streets, all one- or two-storey buildings,
and on the other hand the CFR Palace52 with the North Station
Square - the only coherent, modern square in Bucharest. The
two were in a conflicting situation. We had to choose between
two options: to raise the profile of a significant monument of the
Romanian inter-war civilization and to preserve the memory of
the old city slums, suggested by the houses on Baldovin Pârcalabu
Street...”. 53
Acknowledged and sometimes appreciated for its character,
Bucharest is a patchwork of styles, epochs and sizes, from
architectural to urban scale. The architects and urbanists in a
position of finding solutions for an area where two pieces of this
patchwork meet find themselves in a provocative and delicate
situation. The solution is often a compromise, not easy to reach.
Will choosing between the two sides increase the value of the
solution? Will there be any gain for the city in the end? We are
asking this not merely as a judgment of the recent project, but out
of concern for other areas of the city facing the same dilemma. If
they were to choose between two parts of the city in a conflicting
situation, what would the urban planners have done about the
old houses and monuments54, now salvaged remnants of the old
city hidden behind concrete corners of the boulevard named “the
Victory of Socialism”?
The statement of the authors of the city plan from 193455 is
memorable in that respect: “The existing city must be adapted to
new requirements, but without being demolished and rebuilt56;
that is why we are not proposing radical, large scale solutions. We
set ourselves to change only those parts of the city that we are
forced to change.”
NOTES
1
Harhoiu, Dana. București, un oraș între orient și occident. București: Simetria,
Uniunea Arhitecților din România, ARCUB, 1997, p. 13.
2
In 2011, several NGOs organized an interdisciplinary workshop (called
“Alternative Bucharest” - București Alternativ), proposing to find a solution for
the Buzești-Berzei Avenue in the Matache Market area, in order to save this
monument. The participants (about 30 people) were architects, urban designers,
anthropologists and other professionals, as well as graduate students. Different
proposals were prepared and exhibited at the “Street Delivery” urban festival.
(See: Druță, Oana, “Bucureştiul alternativ – vocea tinerilor în urbanism” and
Costiuc, Silvia, “Clădirile de patrimoniu - cea mai accesibilă cale spre cultură”,
On the previous page:
9. North Station Square, image from
the 1960s. (Postcard).
On the current page:
10. North Station Square and Ma-
tache Market area, 2002 and 2016
comparison situation: Matache
Market (1), North Station Square
(4) (Google earth 2016, data pro-
vider DigitalGlobe, Imagery date: 18
September 2002 and 28 September
2016. 44°26’39.79”N, 26°04’43.44”E,
elevation 80M. Viewed 22 April
2017).
135
in Arhitectura, no. 2 / 2011, other information on the website www.matache.
info). Afterwards, a group of architects called “The Volunteers Architects”-
Arhitecții voluntari, prepared a detailed study for a larger area, including North
Railway Station Square. Their work was published in the book “Who’s Afraid of
the Matache Neighborhood. Principles for Urban Regeneration in the Matache-
Gara de Nord Area in Bucharest” (Cui i-e frică de cartierul Matache. Principii de
regenerare urbană pentru zona Matache Gara de Nord din București. București:
Simetria, 2012) and awarded at the Romanian National Architecture Bienale 2012.
None of these efforts was taken into consideration by the authorities or by the
official proposal, which was completed according to the initial plan.
3
From the list of 83 buildings that were demolished, 12 were listed as historic
monuments. Source: Ivanov, Catiușa, “Primaria Capitalei a terminat bulevardul
Buzesti - Berzei - Uranus, o investitie de peste 50 milioane de euro”, HotNews.
ro, 17 December 2013, Web. „Lista imobile demolate pentru construirea
bulevardului”, [RTF version of document downloaded 31 August 2016].
4
After the official declaration of the Municipality that the building will be kept
on its site, will be consolidated and restored, and an architecture contest will be
organized to find a solution for the sorrounding urban space. Source: Press release
by Bucharest City Hall from 3 August 2011. Web. 31 August 2016.
5
Another issue is historic monument reconstruction, from the 1990s debate of the
reconstruction of Văcărești Monastery (demolished in the last years of Ceușescu’s
dictatorship) to the new practice of the reconstructing historic buildings (usually
main facade), as part of restoration projects.
At the moment of the Matache Market demolition and afterwards, the official
statements of the various Bucharest mayors were that the monument will
be rebuilt. Recently (in April 2017) a new announcement was made, that the
Municipality together with the Romanian Order of Architects (Ordinul Arhitecților
din România) will organize a public contest to that purpose. Sources: “Primarul
General, Gabriela Firea: `Hala Matache va fi refacuta asa cum a fost, dupa planuri
realizate de cei mai buni specialisti`” (“The Bucharest Mayor, Gabriela Firea: `The
Matache Market will be rebuilt as it was before, according to plans by the best
professionals`”), Press release by Bucharest City Hall from 20 April 2017. Web. 23
April 2017; Goilav, Ana Maria, “Reluarea concursului pentru Piața Matache” (“The
rerun of the contest for Matache Market”), Filiala Teritorială București a Ordinului
Arhitecților din România, 21 April 2017. Web. 23 April 2017 and Ruscior, Cosmin,
“Hala Matache va fi reconstruită. Cum ar trebui să arate clădirea?” (“The Matache
Market will be rebuilt. How should the building look like?”), RFI Romania, 21 April
2017. Web. 23 April 2017.
For more information on the reconstruction of historic monuments in Romanian
contemporary society, see also: Țigănaș, Șerban, “Înlocuirea arhitecturii”
136 137
(“Architecture substitution”), Bălteanu, Florin, “Câmpineanu 2. Începutul unei 14
Pănoiu, Andrei, Op. cit., p. 215, see also Gazeta Municipală, 1932-1947. various in style and size, that “gave an impression of disorder and ignorance in Planul director de sistematizare al Municipiului Bucureşti. Rezumat al memoriului
noi practici în România: demolarea autorizată a monumentelor istorice în 15
Lascu, Nicolae, Op. cit., p. 166. urban planning”. The “feeling of disintrest for urban development and lack of any justificativ. București: Institutul Urbanistic al României, 1934, p. 8. See also the
vederea reconstruirii acestora” (“Câmpineanu 2. The beginning of a new practice 16
Zahariade, Ana Maria, Arhitectura în proiectul comunist. România 1944-1989 / sense of general harmony” was increased by the fact that one could see from here note 13.
in Romania: authorized demolition of historic monuments in view of their Architecture in the communist project. Romania 1944-1989. București: Simetria, the buildings of the Lenin-Stalin Museum (Romanian Peasant Museum) and of the 55
Duiliu Marcu’s studies for new urban squares adjacent to his project for
reconstruction”), and Hanna Derer: “Ceva ce nu este autentic nu poate fi o valoare 1911. p. 136 - 143. For more information about the subject, see Tulbure, Irina, Geological Museum, located not far away, to the north west. See: Marcu, Duiliu, important buildings can be surprising in the context of this statement. However,
și, în consecință, nu are cum să prezinte interes” (“Something that is not authentic Arhitectură și urbanism în România anilor 1944-1960: constrângere și experiment, Arhitectură. 1912-1960. București: Editura Tehnică, 1960. p. 551. in the same document it is mentioned: “Unfortunately, we have today only two or
cannot have value and, as consequence, is not of interest”), interview by Adrian București: Simetria, 2016; Panaitescu, Alexandru, De la casa Scânteii la Casa 36
Lascu, Nicolae, Op. cit. p. 113. three urban square – that can receive this designation. The rest are only crossing
Bălteanu, all articles in Observatorul Urban București, no. 15-16/2013-2014. Poporului: patru decenii de arhitectură în București, București: Simetria, 2012 37
Ibidem, p. 116. roads.” Ibidem, p. 51.
6
“... an aspect of the difficulties met by someone who approaches the history and Stroe, Miruna, Locuirea între proiect și decizie politică. România 1954-1966, 38
Cruțescu, Grigore, Op. cit. p. 262.
of Bucharest (...) comes from the generalized mentality that our country had no București: Simetria, 2015. 39
Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1960). pp. 551-555.
cities and that our towns were, in fact, some sort of larger villages. (...) To judge 17
Zahariade, Ana Maria, Op. cit., p. 143. 40
Ibidem, pp. 551-555.
our cities by the well-established criteria of western cities lead to a “complex” 18
Ibidem, p. 136, 143. 41
Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1946). p. 175.
of the small town and suburb, accompanied by condescending resignation, not 19
The name of the urban project was “the Civic Centre”, designed to envelope 42
Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1960). pp. 552-553.
free from a form of nostalgic attachment to the reality of the “picturesque” life the “People’s House” (now The Palace of the Romanian Parliament), famous for 43
Ibidem, p. 551, 555.
forms inhabiting Romanian communities.” Harhoiu, Dana, Op. cit. p. 17. On the being one of the biggest and heaviest buildings in the world, with its axis of urban 44
Ibidem, p. 554.
subject of urban development in the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, composition, called “Victory of Socialism” Boulevard (now Unirii Boulevard), of 3 45
The area of the study has north-south limits Monetăriei Street - Aleea Alexandru
see Laurențiu Rădvan, At Europe’s Borders: Medieval Towns in the Romanian km long. until Sevastopol Street, at east-west from Louis Blanc Street to Dr. Iacob Felix
Principalities, trans., Valentin Cîrdei. (East Central and Eastern Europe in the 20
Harhoiu, Dana. Op. cit. p. 13. Street. See: Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1960). pp. 591-603.
Middle Ages, 450–1450, 7.) Boston and Leiden: Brill, 2010. “A key point in the 21
The list of the properties proposed to be expropriate for Bararab suspended 46
Lascu, Nicolae, Op. cit. pp. 100-103.
debate on the emergence of the medieval town in the Romanian-inhabited area bridge include three buildings listed as monuments. (Tribunalul Municipiului 47
In his book, Duiliu Marcu mention that the idea for changing the location of the
is that of a pattern of development followed by urban centres. Since no tradition București, Secția a IX-a, Sentința civilă nr. 1176 din 9.04.2008, Dosar nr. Central Station to the new function of University District was his own, proposed
existed in this sense, did the town here fall in the pattern that towns in other areas 20092/3/2007, Centrul de resurse juridice. Web. PDF version of document with the occasion of the new city plan from 1934. (See: note 13) and Duiliu,
of Europe followed, or an altogether different path?” (p. 134). downloaded 31 August 2016. Arhitectură. 1912-1960. București: Editura Tehnică, 1960. p. 509.
7
See Harhoiu, Dana. Op. cit. 22
Lascu, Nicolae, Op. cit. p. 58. 48
Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1960). p. 418.
8
Bălteanu, Adrian, “Dosar comentat Buzeşti – Berzei – Uranus: Invitat prof. dr. arh. 23
Ibidem, p. 166. 49
The urban project was completed in 1960, with collective housing buildings
Constantin Enache”, in Arhitectura, no. 6/2011. Web. 31 August 2016. 24
Cruțescu, Grigore, Podul Mogoșoaiei: Povestea unei străzi. București: Meridiane, bordering the north and south part of the North Station Square. See „Ansamblul
9
Lascu, Nicolae, Bulevardele bucureștene până la Primul Război Mondial. 1986. p. 258. de locuințe din Piața Gării de Nord – București”, in Arhitectura RPR, no. 1 (68) /
București: Simetria, 2011, p. 157. 25
According to the “Urban analysis of the area at the intersection of Calea Victorei 1961, pp. 44-45.
10
Pănoiu, Andrei, Evoluția orașului București. București: Editura Fundația Arhitext and Dacia Avenue”, authors Emilia Țugui and Silvia Costiuc, 2010. Print. 50
All the buildings designed by Duiliu Marcu, realized concomitant with the
design, 2011. p. 176, 186 and Lascu, Nicolae, Op. cit. 26
Marcu, Duiliu, Arhitectură. 1912-1960. București: Editura Tehnică, 1960, p. 179. projects presented above, are currently listed as historic monuments.
11
Pănoiu, Andrei, Op. cit., pp. 186-193. 27
Ibidem, pp. 179-199. 51
Bălteanu, Adrian, “Dosar comentat Buzeşti – Berzei – Uranus: Invitat prof. dr. arh.
12
King Carol II returned to rule the country in 1930-1940, after renouncing the 28
Ibidem, pp. 199, 527. Constantin Enache”, in Arhitectura, no. 6/2011. Web. 31 August 2016.
throne in 1927 in favour of his son, Michael I, and established a royal dictatorship 29
Ibidem, pp. 199. 52
The Ministry of Transportation administrative building, designed by Duiliu Marcu.
in 1938. 30
Ibidem, p. 386, and Marcu, Duiliu, Architecture. 1930-1940. București: 53
Bălteanu, Adrian, “Dosar comentat Buzeşti – Berzei – Uranus: Invitat prof. dr. arh.
13
The study, called Studiul sistematizării Capitalei, was the basic study research for Imprimerie “Bucovina” I. E. Toroutiu, 1946. p. 76. 31 31 Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1946). Constantin Enache”, in Arhitectura, no. 6/2011. Web. 31 August 2016.
the “General Regulation Plan of the Bucharest Municipality” - Planul Director de p. 222. 54
Sometimes moved from the original position, in order to be saved from
Sistematizare a Municipiului București (1934), that contained a general city plan 32
Ibidem, p. 224 demolition. (See: Speteanu, Viorel (ed.), Dr. ing. Eugeniu Iordăchescu, un salvator
and detailed studies for different areas within the Bucharest. The working board 33
Ibidem, p. 550 al monumentelor de arhitectură. București: Fundația Culturală Gheorghe Marin
included the architects Duiliu Marcu, G. M Cantacuzino, R. Boromey, I. Davidescu 34
Marcu, Duiliu, Op. cit. (1960). p. 546. Speteanu, 2011).
and eng. T. Rădulescu. See Pănoiu, Andrei, Op. cit. pp. 202-204. 35
The architect described the place as having important buildings on three sides, 55
Marcu, Duiliu, G. M. Cantacuzino, R. Boromey, I. Davidescu, T. Rădelescu,
 ABOUT INTERVENTIONS ON HISTORIC BUILDINGS IN TRANSYLVANIA.
CHANGES OF APPROACH, FROM LOCAL INTERVENTIONS TO COMPLEX CONSERVATION WORKS
Imola KIRIZSAN
138
Introduction
After 1977, when the Ceaușescu regime abolished the institutions
for historic building conservation, a “restoration” of these
institutions took place in Romania, following the events in 1989.
The Historic Buildings’ Directorate (DMI – Direcția Monumentelor
Istorice) was re-established, along with the National Commission
for Historic Buildings (CNMI – Comisia Națională a Monumentelor
Istorice). These organisations had considerable weight and
influence at the beginning of the ‘90s, much less in the mid-’90s.
The National Heritage Institute (INP – Institutul Național al
Patrimoniului), a Romanian governmental institution, was
founded in 2009 by merging the National Office for Historic
Buildings with the National Institute for Historic Buildings. In
2011, the Institute for Cultural Memory (Institutul de Memorie
Culturală – CIMEC) was merged with INP by absorption.
After 1990, non-governmental organisations also started to
appear in the field of built heritage conservation, the national
institutional system of NGOs in the field being established. On
the one hand, the National Committees of the international
organisations in the field were born (or reborn). This category can
be exemplified by the Romanian ICOMOS National Committee. On
the other hand, many local nongovernmental organisations in the
field of built heritage conservation were established in the 1990s.
As a state institution that would manage research and design
activities related to built heritage conservation in the country did
not, and still does not exist, private commercial companies (Ltds)
were born, handling – in the provinces – the research and design
of interventions on built heritage. It is true that in Bucharest
there is the National Heritage Institute (INP – Institutul Național
al Patrimoniului), but in the rest of the country there are no state
institutions that could manage research and design activities
related to built heritage conservation.
For example, Utilitas1 SRL (Ltd) was founded in Cluj-Napoca and
Atelier M2 in Sfântu Gheorghe, engaged in research and design
for built heritage conservation. The name of Utilitas is taken from
Vitruvius, who in antiquity already mentioned the three essential
characteristics of buildings: Firmitas, Venustas, and Utilitas,
namely constancy in time, beauty, and utility.
Since 1991, 10 to 25 employees have worked at Utilitas almost
exclusively in the field of built heritage conservation (research and
design, following the implementation in the field of architecture
and structure), with art history, geotechnical, archaeological,
artistic components, and building services surveys subcontracted
to persons outside the company, so that the head of design – the
architect – is the employee of Utilitas SRL.
Among the non-governmental organisations active in the field
of built heritage conservation are the Transylvanian Historic
Building Conservationists’ Society and the Transsylvania Nostra
Foundation. The Society and the Foundation are the organisers of
two prestigious series of international conferences, the TUSNAD
Conferences (organised every two years, with the 18th edition
in 2016) and the Historic Structures Conferences (also organised
every two years, with the 17th edition in 2017).
The international scientific Conference Series on Theoretical
and Practical Issues of Built Heritage Conservation – TUSNAD,
organised in Tuşnad-Băi, was started in 1992 as an International
Specialist Training Course in Historic Building Protection,
becoming an international symposium in 1993. Since its inception,
the conference has been organised under the aegis of the
ICOMOS International Committee and the national committees of
Germany, Romania, and Hungary.
The International Conference Series on Historic Structures was
launched in 1997, when the lectures and round table discussions
allowed for a wide exchange of experience among the country’s
specialists working in the field of historic structures. Since 1998,
specialists from other countries, such as Slovakia, the Czech
Republic, and Hungary, have been invited to the conference. The
conference has truly become international since 1999, with the
participation of specialists from European Union countries, other
Central and Eastern European countries, as well as from North
America. Since 1999, the debates have been grouped around
well-defined themes of great interest in the current context of
interventions on historic load-bearing structures, the lectures
being presented in volumes that appear before the conferences.
The activity of the specialists after 1990 follows the specific course
in the field, at a national level. Attempts were made to develop
an inventory of built heritage at that time. The designed and
implemented interventions had a low budget, targeted on local
interventions. In the absence of specialists there was an urgent
need for specialisation, and these specialisations were available,
until 1997, only abroad3.
Projects were launched, in 1997, for the inventory and study of
the state of conservation of heritage assets with mural paintings
and/or painted coffered ceilings, as well as of the endangered
heritage. These projects have provided access to the rich heritage
of places of worship, and so the foundations were laid for the
research of the historic roof structures in Transylvania through a
structural perspective4.
Since Romania’s accession to the European Union in 2007, a
part of the built heritage has been rehabilitated from regional
operational funds, aimed at increasing cultural tourism. Starting
with 2014, a new campaign is being launched to attract funds for
conservation works, and feasibility studies for the rehabilitation of
churches, mansions, etc. are being prepared. These interventions
will be launched in 2018, at design and implementation level.
The following material is a selection of implemented interventions
139
(1) a roof structure conservation intervention in Maiad, from
research to implementation phase, (2) the rehabilitation of three
secular buildings in the historical centre of Baia Mare, and (3) the
rehabilitation the Lutheran Church in Bistrița, the conservation
concept of which has changed since its launch in 1991 and is due
to be completed using European funds (2014-2020).
1. The conservation of a historic roof structure through
specialization, from research to implementation. Why this
church? (fig. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)
During the field work of the project “State Assessment and
Inventory of Historic Buildings with Painted Wood Elements
and/or Mural Paintings”5, a Gothic roof structure with major –
however reversible (that could be re-brought to the initial form)
– interventions and advanced decay was identified. The drastic
intervention to the load-bearing structure, inappropriate from the
point of view of mechanical behaviour, but also of the material
used, faced the specialists with a structure in a state of advanced
decay. The issue of re-bringing it to the initial structure arose. In
the small village centre, the ecclesiastical building retains a timber
belfry from the 18th century; however, the church’s actual date of
origin is unknown. The two-bay building is an eclectic synthesis of
architectural styles constructed from stone and brick, whilst the
interior retains fine wall paintings under the plaster and an 18th-
century painted coffered ceiling. The church nave, with a small
layout, is limited to both east and west by a triangular gable, and
has a roof structure with nine trusses.
The roof structure is built of oak and has a Gothic character,
however, some later unsympathetic alterations have been
undertaken and sections have been replaced in softwood. It
was in a poor condition, suffering from water ingress and insect
infestation.
 On the previous page:
1, 2, 3. Roof structure conservation
intervention in Maiad
On the current page:
4, 5. Roof structure conservation
intervention in Maiad
140
A painted coffered timber ceiling with 6x8 panels is attached to
this roof structure, where the painted boards are fastened to the
roof structure’s oak tie-beams with wrought iron nails. The boards
are made up of 3-4 planks attached next to one another, two or
three panels long. The average size of the panels is 1.41x1.00 m.
After precisely identifying the values and deciding to intervene,
we passed on to researching and designing the conservation,
processes that precede the carrying out of the conservation work
proper.
A visual inspection to assess the state of the structure was
carried out, and the replacement of the damaged elements by
identical new ones was proposed. The preliminary inspection of
the structure recorded the whole structure, truss by truss, and a
geometrical survey including the joints, connection properties,
and material identification was carried out. The following stage
required identifying the decay and establishing the damaged
areas. Faulty construction and architectural details – like the
connection areas between the gable and the first truss, or
details at the soffit and wall were identified. The most extended
decay areas were at the first and last truss, at the tie-beams
and common rafters. The water that infiltrates permanently
accelerates decay. Apart from the active biological decay of the
consolidation fir elements, damage was also identified at the level
of the initial structure, this occurring in areas with a faulty load-
bearing structural conformation, such as: wall plates – elements in
contact with walls, trusses in the immediate vicinity of the gable,
and the contact areas with infested timber elements – tie-beams
etc.
In the 1960s ample consolidation works were carried out, and
(poor quality) fir elements were inserted, thus drastically altering
the mechanical behaviour as compared to the initial one.
The existing tie-beams were doubled – and deflected by
positioning fir beams at distances of about 5-10 cm from the
upper edge of existing tie-beams, and bracings were provided
between king posts and the new beams within the main trusses.
For joint solutions, each element intersected by the new
beams was cut – having as a result smaller cross-sections of the
elements. Thus, the common rafters, angle braces, and king posts
were lapped, and the angle brace ends within the main trusses
were severed and removed.
Besides the mechanically inappropriately designed load-bearing
structural interventions, it must be mentioned that the timber
used for consolidation, fir (Abies alba), showed deficiencies – with
a large sapwood area, and rare annular rings rich in nourishing
substances that favour severe attacks from active wood-eating
insects – Hylotrupes bajulus.
During the summer of 2001, carpenter students under the
guidance of British professionals repaired the timber roof
structure. The conservation process was characterised also by
didactic purposes, for the site was chosen as a conservation
site for the specialisation of carpenters in historic roof structure
conservation within the BHCT6.
Repairs were kept to a minimum, dislocated elements were
relocated into their original positions, and rotten sections were
replaced, only when necessary, with sections of oak.
Preparatory construction works: 1. for ensuring an appropriate
access to all joists and elements of the roof structure, a
scaffolding system was built up to the nave’s cornice level, parallel
to the long side, and tiles were removed from the working areas
– sections formed of three consecutive trusses each, 2. on the
entire duration of the conservation works, the coffered ceiling
was propped up from inside the church.
The conservation and preservation works re-established the
initial geometry by removing subsequent, poor-quality elements.
This phenomenon included replacement interventions of the
damaged joists within the initial structure and a rethinking
of the architectural details for an appropriate maintenance
and functionality. The entire process was characterised by the
principle of minimum intervention, using materials, techniques,
and technologies compatible with the initial ones. Due to the
fact that the conservation process overlapped with the specialist
training process in this field, the entire work was characterised
by accuracy from the organisation and carrying-out points of
view, and the following was attempted:
The load-bearing structure interventions were made from
truss to truss, starting with truss no. 1 until truss no. 9, and
interventions carried out in 2001 were: removing the new
doubling beams and compound rafters; extending and re-
making the angle brace joints; local repairs at the king posts;
repairs of tie-beam and common rafter ends, as well as re-
making the joints; repairs of tie-beams; the replacement of the
wall plate pair to 80%.
The craftsmanship of this intervention consisted in constructing
extension joists subjected to bending without using metallic
parts. This was carried out so that the coffered ceiling supported
by these tie-beams was not dismantled, not even damaged in
the process.
2. Business Centre Millennium III Baia Mare
The project for the Business Centre Millennium III Baia Mare,
consisting of the rehabilitation of three significant historic
buildings in Baia Mare’s previously devalued Libertăţii Square (fig.
6), as well as a new design for the Business Plaza pedestrian zone
that connects the newly refurbished buildings, was completed
at the end of 2004. Together, these four components comprise
6. Rehabilitation of three significant
historic buildings in Baia Mare
141
a new business centre complete with turn-of-the-millennium
facilities and technology. This project7 received the largest
support granted (€4 million) by the European Commission at the
beginning of 2000 in Romania for the conservation of secular
buildings. In addition, this is the first of the European Union
projects of such a significant scale to be successfully completed in
this field8.
The project went through all the phases typical for a project
supported by the European Union: elaboration, modifications,
amendments, recurring reconsideration of specific issues, etc.
It matured, becoming fully substantial at the end of 2002, when
the contract for the implementation of the conservation works
was signed. The complexity of the work from the research to the
implementation phase, the multitude of problems that ensued,
and the diversity of values that the buildings contain required a
highly-skilled team of specialists from a broad range of disciplines.
A significant challenge in the implementation of the Millennium
III business centre is that the project was required to be complete
in an extremely brief period of time. The effective research and
design started in July 2002; the implementation of the project was
completed in December 2004.
The three historic buildings were selected from the 22 buildings
situated on the square. These were chosen to be rehabilitated
not only because of their important historic value, but also
because they were all properties owned by the local authorities,
which made the implementation of the project feasible within
the short period of time that was allotted. Thanks to the
implemented conservation works, these three buildings are the
first to benefit from the ongoing wide-ranging project aimed at
the re-establishment of the old administrative-commercial centre
of the town. The first of the three buildings, the Building at No.
2 Vasile Lucaciu Street (M1) (fig. 7, 8), is situated on the eastern
 7, 8. Building at No. 2 Vasile Lucaciu
Street (M1); before and after the
intervention
9, 10. Building at No. 17 Libertăţii
Square (M2); before and after the
intervention
142
side of the historic public square. A significantly decayed mixed
masonry construction, it once served as the historic town’s Black
Eagle Inn (Aquila Nigra), first mentioned as the town’s inn in 1736.
Built by the town to provide lodging for merchants and travellers,
the inn also housed a pub and functioned as an entertainment
and events’ space for the town. A town council record dated
March 1798 registered that the inn, a partially wooden structure,
could no longer meet the lodging requirements. The subsequent
construction between 1801 and 1803 united the two wings of the
existing building and enlarged it with another storey. In 1872 the
town hall moved into the building and the elevation of the former
inn was consequently re-designed.
At the start of the Millennium III project the building was in
decayed condition. The basement and ground floor have brick
vaults, and the first floor has an upper slab of oak beams. The roof
structure is also constructed of oak, in Eclectic style, with slender
elements and high quality carpenter’s joints. A main objective
of the project aimed at re-constituting the building’s Baroque
qualities as defined in the design from 1801. The intervention
began with the demolition of subsequent and valueless interior
partitions and the strengthening of the structure, as well as
the implementation of a reinforced concrete structure. The
introduction of the reinforced concrete frames and reinforced
concrete ring beam was the result of “negotiations” with the
project verifier for increasing the building’s performance under
gravitational and seismic loads, under the condition of changing
the height regime – by creating the attic and changing the
function.
This new structural system was necessary to protect against
seismic loads. Further issues arose when the new conference hall
was constructed within the courtyard space.
The Building at No. 17 Libertăţii Square (M2) (figg. 9, 10).
143
Throughout the history of its existence, the building at No. 17
has accommodated a variety of functions, from housing, shops,
and rooms to small workshops and storerooms. Situated at
the eastern edge of Libertăţii Square, the first mention of the
building at No. 17 appears in 1760. Listed as a category A historic
building, the stone house originally was the residence of György
Ivácskó. Later, in 1803, the property was owned by the Armenian
tradesman Márton Lázár, who sold metal works and pieces there
until 1842. The building’s sewage system is mentioned in 1819.
The final outline of the edifice, however, did not take shape until
1844. Its present layout is consistent with the typical ground plan
of buildings that are sited on narrow and very long plots. The
building consists of a partial basement, ground floor, and upper
floor. A portion of the building’s rear was so badly decayed that it
was subsequently demolished. A reinforced concrete ring beam
was added to strengthen and stabilize the existing structure.
Due to the building’s position on an elongated site, a new wing
of reinforced concrete construction was attached to the back of
the building, defining an interior covered courtyard space. This
new wing provides the technical, service, and building facilities
required for the introduced business centre. The building’s most
significant and interesting historic remnant is the Gothic frame
fragment preserved in situ on the elevation. The high ground
floor is the most representative aspect of the building. Massive
ashlar pillars support the sail vaults overhead and divide the
main hall-like space into two rows of bays. This large impressive
space serves as a state-of-the-art conference hall that looks out
onto Libertăţii Square. From this hall, newly restored tall wooden
doors with stone frames open outward along the longitudinal
elevation. This hall-like space dates back to the first decades of
the 1800s. The longitudinal elevation follows the course of Mihai
Viteazu Street and correlates to the rhythm of the interior pillars.
 11, 12. BLendvay House (M3); before
and after the intervention
13. Interior of BLendvay House (M3);
after the intervention
144
The basement is covered partially by brick vaults and partially by
a reinforced concrete slab. The ground floor has maintained the
brick vaults and the first floor has a slab of oak beams. The roof
structure is also constructed of oak, and was partially in a good
state, partially needing replacement without using the attic level.
The Lendvay House (M3) (fig. 11, 12, 13) is located on the
northern edge of Libertăţii Square, near the north-east corner.
At the beginning of the Millennium III project, the building was
in an excessive state of decay, requiring extreme and extensive
interventions. Due to the historic renown of the house, the
conservation work was imperative in saving this significant
example of the centre’s built heritage. The house’s name
was officially confirmed in 1881 when the town unveiled a
commemorative plaque (still seen on the house) in honour of the
birthplace of actor Márton Lendvay. This is one of the best-known
buildings in the town, due to both the reputation of the owners
and the architectural concept for the house, which proved to be
one of the most challenging constructions of that time.
The ground plan of the house is trapezoidal in shape, with the
short side facing the main square. The building now consists of a
basement, ground floor, and upper floor. Initially, however, there
were two separate single-storey buildings. The most significant
alteration to the building occurred in the 19th century, when
these two buildings were actually merged. The ground floor was
14. Lutheran church in Bistrița
15. Historical photo of Lutheran
church in Bistrița
145
extended northward to accommodate a stair leading to a new
upper floor that bridged across and joined the extant buildings.
The median space between the two original buildings then
became an open-air, vaulted corridor, serving as the central
circulation axis for the ground floor.
At the beginning of the Millennium project the house had been
abandoned since 1988 and was found in a very decayed condition.
Some of the technical assessments at that time indicated the
necessity of demolishing the building, and the dry rot (serpula
lacrymans) identified in the timber and masonry structure
supported this decision. Finally, 2/3 of the original structure could
be retained, to which a masonry structure was added, confined
by the current regulations for brick masonry structures, slabs,
and reinforced concrete stairs, as well as a new upper floor and a
new roof structure suitable for refurbishing within the initial roof
structure’s volume.
After the first five years monitoring period, the mayoralty tried
to find certain functions that would support the buildings and
the minimum maintenance works. The buildings still stand with
their 2004 appearance and have been the catalysts of future
interventions in the historic centre.
3. The ever-renewing Lutheran church in Bistrița
Another interesting, but also “long-lasting” work is the Lutheran
Church in Bistrița (fig. 14, 15, 16, 17). This important building that
dominates the historic centre of Bistrița has been the subject of
an intervention with an ever-changing approach since the early
1990s, when the beneficiary, the Lutheran Parish, commissioned
a conservation design and began the interventions at the level
of the Gothic roof structure, as well as the consolidation of the
western elevation.
The Lutheran Church in Bistriţa has suffered along time various
 16, 17. Computer modelling of the
Lutheran church ensemble
146
extensive historic interventions, carried out in different phases,
thus gaining its present appearance after the works from the
16th century carried out by Petrus Italus from Lugano, as well as
after the historicist interior remodelling from the beginning of the
20th century, and the conservation works after the fire of 11 June
2008. The 1990s opened a new chapter in the church’s history
– from conservation site with very reduced funding to extensive
interventions, overshadowed by a devastating fire.
The current conservation stage and the beginning of a European
Conservation project implementation is due to the collaboration
between the Lutheran Parish, the City Hall of Bistriţa, and a cross-
disciplinary team composed of various specialists9.
The church was erected, beginning with the 14th century, as
a basilica composed of a nave and two aisles, as well as two
western towers, on the spot of a former late Romanesque church.
It was transformed in 1478, when a small tower with a spiral
staircase was attached to the western elevation, preserving
from the old church two Gothic windows with pointed arches.
On the northern side of the precinct surrounding the church the
construction of the bell tower was begun, carried out in several
stages in 1478, 1487, 1509, 1513, 1519 and ending in 1544. Being
under the authority of the town, the bell tower, independent
from the church itself, could be entered through the smaller
tower with staircase mentioned above. In the 16th century, the
former structure of the edifice was abandoned in favour of a
hall church, which determined a new arrangement of the inner
space and its vaulting once again. Documents from the end of the
15th century mention the church’s poor state of preservation,
due to either earthquakes or foundation errors. In 1560 the
transformation of the edifice with a nave and two aisles into a
hall church had begun, the works led by stonemason Petrus Italus
from Lugano, ending in 1563, as stated by an inscription placed on
the western portal. The interior space received lierne and stellar
vaults with brick ribs, covered later with mural paintings, as it
has been discovered in 2013. The vault’s heightening determined
the need to employ on the western elevation a solution that was
new at that time in the surrounding areas, such as the masonry
pediment, conceived as a support for the church’s high roof
structure. Historic documents mention in 16 December 1559
the employment of the stonemason Petrus Italus from Lugano
and of the carpenter Andreas Faysel for the construction of the
roof10, together with the first donations11 for the intervention. The
intervention between 1560 and 1563 resulted in the nave’s Gothic
roof structure, with a span of over 22 m, wedged between the
western Renaissance gable and the eastern one found above the
triumphal arch, and with 39 main and secondary trusses set at a
distance of 1.03-1.45 m.
Specifically to Gothic roof structures, the longitudinal bracing
systems are placed in vertical longitudinal planes, three systems
each on two levels. During the following years no other major
intervention took place, until 1857, when a fire destroyed the
tower’s roof, leading to the reconstruction of its last floor in Neo-
Gothic style. A next step was an intervention in 1897, when some
of the elements were removed from the nave’s roof structure
and bracing systems were placed in some of the transversal spans
on supports ensured by raising the pillars. After this, the oldest
historical restoration of the church took place in 1926, made
according to the designs of professor Hermann Phelps, from the
Polytechnic Institute in Gdańsk.
In the ‘90s, the vaults’ extrados area was cleared of deposits,
followed by the roof structure’s reinforcement works, in
accordance with the conservation concept of the time, with
apparent metal elements and a horizontal metal bracing in the
plane of the tie-beams. The western elevation was strengthened
18, 19, 20. Roof ridge of the burnt
trusses and partially or integrally
replacing the burnt
21. Small tower with a spiral stair-
case
147
with embedded tie rods, thus eliminating the “historic” cracks on
the elevation. The works were continued slowly, and starting from
2007 these have been financed through funds for emergency
interventions, due to elements detaching from the tower’s
elevation. The structure of the tower’s spire was consolidated,
the copper roof covering was placed on it, when the wooden
scaffolding around the tower, reaching 52.5 m in height, was
destroyed by a devastating fire. After the fire in 2008, one of the
largest and most significant Gothic roof structures in Transylvania
became well known. The fire completely destroyed the interior
and roof structure of the tower, and damaged partially the first
nine trusses of the nave. After the fire, firstly all the elements
that could fall off at any time were removed, the next steps being
ensuring the structure’s safety until the full conservation of the
damaged area. While providing exterior protection, a computer
modelling of the church ensemble was launched parallel with the
conservation. The outstanding historic, aesthetic, and technical
value of the roof structure challenged both the designers and
the contractors. The biggest challenge: ensuring both the safety
and stability, as well as the preservation of the structure’s
historic values. The conservation concept followed the minimum
intervention philosophy, completing the roof ridge of the burnt
trusses and partially or integrally replacing the burnt elements of
the first nine trusses. The goal was to return to the initial, 16th
century situation, by using identical material with the one on site
(abies alba), worked by carving and with Gothic carpentry joints.
(fig. 18, 19, 20)
After the fire, the tower’s structure was strengthened and a new
metallic spatial structure (fig. 21) was added for the elevator and
staircases. Having the record of the burnt roof structure, a replica
of the tower roof was made in timber and new copper sheet was
used for roof covering. The damaged slab of the tower’s outer
 Fig. 21. Vaults of the Lutheran church
in Bistrita
Fig. 22. Vaults of the Lutheran church
in Bistrita
148
gallery was replaced with a new reinforced concrete slab, keeping
however the stone brackets at the corners and the metal profiles.
During the current building archaeology research, conducted in
several stages in 2008 and 2013, murals dating from different
periods were uncovered. On the nave’s northern side the restorer
found figural fragments from the 14th century, the church’s first
construction phase. On the vaulting of the nave and chancel,
paintings in Renaissance style were identified, belonging to the
concluding phase of the present church (the 1560s). The murals
consist primarily of Renaissance decorative, respectively figural
painting (e.g. the Old Testament story of Judith and Holofernes).
The decorative painting of the chancel’s vault (fig. 22, 23) is
limited to the keystones, because the original, 16th century
plaster of the vaults had already been removed during a later
intervention. The paintings were done in secco on the first, 16th
century plaster layer. The uncovering of the vaults’ painting was
made in April and June 2013, concomitantly with the structural
reinforcements of the vault and ribs. During the conservation, the
painted surface was cleaned, the plaster and paint layers were
fixed, and the areas with losses were retouched.
The concept aims at reproducing the ambiance of the 16th-
18th centuries. The original valuable pieces of furniture will
be conserved, along with the Baroque organ placed above the
entrance on the western side, the altar, and other precious
movable objects, including the chandeliers.
The ongoing European project will continue the reinforcement of
the vaults at the aisles’ ground floor level and of the load-bearing
walls, as well as the functional conversion; aside the function of
place of worship, the building will also serve as a museum and
venue for organ, opera concerts, etc., while the roof structure
with a considerable span (22 m without intermediate supports)
will be open to the public in organised groups, using artistic
lighting to enhance the timber elements.
Conclusion
The three interventions are only a small part of a wide range
of designs, works that have been carried out or are under
implementation12.
The series of interventions on the historic buildings in Transylvania
will continue this year with the help of European Funding
opportunities through the 2014-2020 Regional Operational
Program, Axis 5.1. The question is whether the specialists – from
researchers and designers to contractors – will be sufficient in
number and in the level of training to be able to cope with the
demands of preserving heritage values to the fullest.
Acknowledgement
We would like to thank the professors and collaborators that
have guided us in the direction of conservation. Those that are
no longer among us, but that have insisted on passing on their
knowledge to us, to those that are not satisfied with building only
new constructions.
We would also like to thank those colleagues that wished to be
trained in this field and continue to work with enthusiasm in this
area full of obstacles but also of success.
NOTES
1
Entity founded by engineer prof. Bálint Szabó, focused on the civil engineering
specialisation, the basic activity remaining the structural rehabilitation of historic
buildings. The old employees, collaborators of Utilitas SRL, already manage their
own “business” in the field of built heritage.
2
Led by the Sándor Benczédi, expert in architectural conservation, scientific vice-
president of the TUSNAD conference series between 1992 and 2003.
3
At the Catholic University in Leuven, at the School of Chaillot, or at the Budapest
University of Technology and Economics, Postgraduate Studies in Architectural
Conservation. The young specialists take part as interns in the surveying campaigns
149
organised by US/ICOMOS.
4
Under the leadership of engineer prof. Bálint Szabó, between 2001-2013,
three doctoral theses were developed on historic roof structures in Transylvania
(Romanesque, Gothic, and Baroque) the Eclectic one is still ongoing.
5
Conducted with specialists from Romania and Hungary. The results of the
inventory have led to isolated interventions with the purpose of preserving certain
values – mural paintings, roof structures, coffered ceilings, etc.
6
BHCT – Built Heritage Conservation Training Courses started in 2000 by
Transsylvania Trust Foundation.
7
Thus the conservation and adequate provisions for a business centre suitable
for the third millennium were financed through the PHARE 2001 SIF project,
Romanian code 0101.09.
8
The project won the Main Prize and the Nicholae Ghika Prize of the Ministry
of Culture and Religion for National Cultural Heritage in 2004. The Millennium
III Business Centre was also the main topic of the 2005 “Tusnad – Conference
Series on Theoretical and Practical Issues of Built Heritage” (and its associated
publication), held on site at the new business facilities in Baia Mare in May
2005. The head of design and the involved architects were Ildikó Mitru and
Ștefan Paskucz, (Noua Optiune Ltd.) the technical expert being engineer prof.
Bálint Szabó, PhD, and the coordination of the engineers’ team and the project
management during the design phase was ensured by engineer Imola Kirizsán,
PhD.
9
The specialists were representatives of the following organisations: Creativ Group
Ltd., Utilitas Ltd., Imago Picta Ltd., Fornax Ltd., and Ars Antiqua Ltd.
10
Mândrescu Gheorghe, Arhitectura în stil Renaştere la Bistriţa, Ed. Presa
universitară clujeană, 1999, Cluj-Napoca.
11
Ibidem p. 68, apud Otto Dahinten – Geschichte der Stadt Bistritz in
Siebenbürgen, 1988, Ed. Ernst Wagner, Böhlau Vlg. Köln-Viena, p. 238.
12
Complex conservation works coordinated also by architects Éva Eke, Zsuzsanna
Szilágyi Bartha, Cristina Tuţă-Filip, and Éva Dezső. The technical expert of the works
is engineer prof. Bálint Szabó, PhD.

THE CULTURAL HERITAGE CODE IN ROMANIA. CONCEPT AND EVOLUTION
Adrian CRĂCIUNESCU
150
Foreword
Although the idea of elaborating a code for the current heritage
legislation in Romania dates back to just ten years ago, a real
breakthrough happened only at the end of 2016. This consisted
in transforming some of the intentions in the “Preliminary Theses
of the Cultural Heritage Code”, the first administrative phase
required for any such a code
For almost a decade - since the idea of a cultural heritage code
emerged within the specialist milieu, no progress was made in
an essential aspect that was supposed to be the basis of this
legal synthesis of the current heritage legislation. Nobody could
express the essence of the need for such a legislative reform, by
identifying the vision of the society with respect to its cultural
heritage.
There was no clear concept about why we should protect the
cultural heritage and to what extent, and what would be the
constrains of preservation in terms of costs or bureaucracy. What
would the society expect from its heritage? And most importantly,
who should pay for it? Is it possible to apply the same principles
and procedures to all the cultural heritage, regardless of their
kind? In the present perception of cultural heritage probably this
is not possible; it is certainly the case – for instance - of movable
versus immovable heritage.
Being commissioned to coordinate a team of various specialists
from different fields of cultural heritage, I could observe the
elaboration of the heritage code, since it has started, by the time I
was leaving the central administration.
Staying connected to the administrative issues of this domain,
I could see “from the side walk” the course of inconsistent
developing of the code as a result of too many changes of
leadership in the Ministry of Culture and of too little real political
interest for the matter.
1. Bucharest. Biserica Coltea
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2016
151
Brief history of the idea of Cultural Heritage Code in Romania
The intention of implementing a legislative reform in the field of
cultural heritage was first announced by the Ministry of Culture
(Ministry of Culture and Religious Affairs at the time) in 2005-
2008, when this objective was one among many others of a
“cultural heritage strategy”. This intention was later on claimed
by all the ministers after 2008 (eleven until the end of 2016, one
of them in two separate terms). It seems that the origin of this
intention was the similar reforms already carried out in 2004 in
France or Italy, two Latin countries of an administrative tradition,
where strong authority at the central or regional level is present
in terms of managing their heritage. Later on, several neighboring
countries adopted unified legislations to deal with their cultural
heritage (such as Bulgaria, Croatia, Serbia or Montenegro). A
reform process already started in the UK in this domain (more
precisely in England). That counts as an example of a reform in
a country of a different administrative tradition in comparison
to France or Italy. In England the debate initiated in 2000 and in
2008, by the time that administration in Romania was joining
the trend, they reached the point of public debate on the
“Draft Heritage Protection Bill”. By 2013, this debate led to the
“Enterprise and Regulatory Reform Act”, a legislative document
that appears to adjust the need of heritage protection to the
current pressures of the economy, notably of the real estate and
construction industry segment. If in France the legislative process
was rather swift, based practically on reuniting the existing
laws under a single index, the reform in Italy and in England
seemed to be more profound, taking more time – 7 and 13 years,
respectively.
In Romania it took also a lot of time, but for very different
reasons. In order to be similar to the various European national
policies in the field of heritage, mostly with the traditional raw
 models of our administration that can be considered Italy and
especially France, the Romanian legislative process looked more
like a mimetic approach, perhaps stimulated by the process of
accession to the European Union (2007). The need for reform
was also related to the rising pressure upon the authorities,
denounced by numerous NGOs for their unsatisfactory
administrative practices. Since early 2000s, NGO’s voices became
stronger and stronger, very often accusing the destructive
effects of poor planned infrastructure, developing projects in
archaeological sites, over extended territories of urban and rural
protected areas or within natural reserves, in short, offences
related to the built cultural heritage, either individual historic
152 monuments or zones having some degree of legal protection,
for cultural or for natural reasons. An important moment in
the development of the public awareness was the recovery in
2006 – 2007 of the stolen Dacian golden bracelets from the
UNESCO WH Sites of Dacian Fortresses in Orăştie Mountains.
This was the pinnacle of the ever-growing phenomenon of
archaeological pouching. Another notorious case was the struggle
for the preservation of the antique mining cultural landscape
of Roşia Montană / Alburnus Major vs. the intended open-pit
mining project that would have destroyed the site that is now
on Romanian Tentative List of world heritage. Strong reactions
came following many demolitions within protected areas in
Bucharest and other important cities, the constant degrading of
the Saxon villages or of the picturesque villages in Maramureş.
Some of these cases were brought to international attention and
even generated many ICOMOS Resolutions for their protection.
In Transylvanian villages, some of the initiatives promoted by
Prince Charles of Great Britain were widely covered by media, and
helped rise public awareness on the problem. The criticism on
heritage issues even generated in 2016 a political movement that
today is represented in Romanian Parliament.
Despite this growing interest in heritage, the goals of the
necessary legislative reform remained vague and even the idea
of a new code was challenged by those who considered that in
2008 Romania already covered all species of the cultural heritage
throughout rather recent specific laws.
In this respect, currently we have in force:
- the law for protection of historic monuments (since 2001, with
several enforcement by-laws)
- the law for protection of archaeological heritage (initiated by
government ordinance in 2000, also with several by-laws for
enforcing it)
- the law for the protection of movable heritage (dating from
2001, combined with another act (2003) for the functioning of
museums and collections, with by-laws for enforcing them)
- the law for intangible heritage (promulgated in 2007)
- the law dealing with industrial heritage (issued in 2008 but with
no practical consequences ever since).
Beside the specific fields of cultural heritage, special legislation for
urban planning, building permits and for quality of the buildings
are also into force, all interfering with the built cultural heritage
protection. Therefore, one might say that the problem is not
the absence of a proper legislation (none of the components
being older than 20 years), but rather a very poor administrative
capacity of applying it in a satisfactory degree. However, as
many initiatives tried to amend these laws, many of them having
unclear provisions leading to an uneffective enforcement, all of
these called for a new, more explicit, more compact and effective
legislation as a Cultural Heritage Code could be. The accession to
the European Union led to the necessity to modify the existing
Romanian legislation in order to fit properly with the provisions
of the international conventions or EU directives (as it was the
case with the principle of freedom of service provision within
the EU that affected the existing Romanian system of licensing
the specialists in the field of cultural heritage restoration). The
beginning of this process was encouraged indirectly by the
instatement of a Presidential Commission in 2009 responsible for
producing a report on the state of the national cultural heritage.
Due to the lack of personnel and of proper funding risulting from
an inconsistent political support by the numerous ministers of
culture, we saw no results until 2016, despite the fact the Cultural
Heritage Code was mentioned as a priority by each and every
government. These were probably also the reasons for trying
initially just to assemble in a codex all the existing laws with only
minor corrections and not attempting a real legislative reform.
The scarce political interest for the matter can be also explained
by the legacy of the final years of the communist regime. That
period was characterized by a systematic destruction of the built
pre-war testimonies of th “exploiting capitalist society”, mainly in
the historic centers of many important towns or of the vernacular
ones in some of the villages. It might be explained also by the
constant idea, prevailing after 1990, that cultural heritage is
only a liability, a hurdle with respect to investments that bring
progress. This made sustainable development based on inclusion
and reuse of heritage almost never an option. In this respect, it
is widely known the case of the “Buzeşti – Uranus axis”, a street
that was widened by destroying the existing historic buildings,
including the oldest surviving covered market in Bucharest
(Hala Matache). This was a result of the will of the mayor who
always promoted the project sustaining that the area has to be
“cleaned up” and “sanitized” instead of being rehabilitated in an
way that would be self understood in western Europe. The same
visibility acquired a commercial operation of a mining company,
sustained by the local elected authorities from Alba County. The
company, backed by the local authorities, motivated their mining
project (that would mean total annihilation of the landscape) by
the assumption that cultural heritage had no proper economic
value and that it was not a viable alternative to their project. In
fact the mining development meant razing four mountains and
creating a lake of cyanide on an estimated area of 300 hectares
(about the size of Central Park New York or 7 times bigger than
Vatican City). As a perfect example of heritage perception, during
a debate aired on Romanian public television, a representative
of the mining company said that the village of Rosia Montană/
Alburnus Major lay over the projected open pit mining and
not vice versa – the project was superimposed on top of the
village. The same happens very often in the case of archeological
sites situated on the path of planned highways: they generate
“problems” since proper research prior to developing studies
was never considered. The consequence of works having to stop
unexpectedly in order to allow archaeologists to retrieve as much
information as possible from the sites of archaeological accidental
finds (always under constant time-pressure and with additional
costs) is always presented to the general public as a delay of the
investments due to the intervention of the archaeologists. One
can give such an example in the construction of an underground
parking in University Square in Bucharest. Although located at
the edge of the historic core of the town, work started only based
on the technical project of the parking in the underground, not
taking into consideration any of the well known historic plans
indicating potential important archaeological heritage. Nor had
the authorities required an urban plan for the reshaping of the
important public space above the future parking, as University
Square happens to be the first planned public space of the capital.
Obviously, when the excavations started on the site, media had
the chance to report the constant discovery of testimonies dating
back to 17th and 18th centuries as “breaking news”.
In terms of funding opportunities at the national level, one can
notice that such mentality of pla cing heritage in a blind spot
is consistent with the budget of the Ministry of Culture, which
for many years was one of the lowest in the European Union
(according to an interview of the minister of culture in 20101 )
down to the lowest level of spending in cultural field in European
Union in 20152 .
As for the external funding, for the first years after joining
the European Union there was a lack of interest for the built
heritage. In 2006 while preparing the first framework of European
structural funding for 2007-2013, when the general concept was
almost complete, the Ministry of Culture attempted to get some
provisions for funding the rehabilitation of its built heritage.
Despite the fact that heritage is something that by its nature has
an integrator character, with social contribution, with a specific
role in the professional development, in the restructuring of 153
urban or rural sites, as well as in tourism or other public services,
it was impossible to agree with the coordinators on a consistent
inclusion of heritage into the program for structural funding.
Therefore, unlike other countries such as Greece, Portugal or
Spain, opportunities for rehabilitating built heritage with the
support of European funds were scarce, connected mainly with
rural development section of the structural funds allocated for
Romania. More important investments came from the financing
scheme of SEE – Norway, Liechtenstein and Iceland, by means of
a memorandum with Romanian Government for 2009 – 2014 that
came into force in 2012. As for the current program of structural
funds for 2014-2020, there is a slight improvement since there
is a distinct possibility for funding rehabilitation of built heritage
within the “Operational Program for Regional Development”.
The available budget was not impressive since, for instance, on
the rural development axis, measure 7 (on services and village
enhancement) all the funds are already engaged before mid-
term.
A positive impact on the way heritage potential is perceived was
produced by the great success that Sibiu – European Cultural
Capital 2007 obtained at both the economic and social level. In
the same way, long time abandoned historic center of Bucharest,
generally portrayed as a vast ruin that has to be treated as a
plague (in the same way as previously mentioned Hala Matache
was), unexpectedly had an instant social and economic success
after some investments in its street infrastructure were made
between 2006 and 2011. Rapid concentration of private
investments in local pubs generated a huge interest for this
urban space previously ignored and even mocked. Despite the
fact that most of the built heritage in this area still desperately
needs restoration, it became a pole of attraction for the young
 generation and for the ever growing number of tourists. These
two very visible success stories connected with built heritage
led in the last 5-10 years to an important raise of interest shown
by some of the public authorities. They are now interested in
developing projects enabling them to get European funding for
the most varied, and sometimes rather extravagant, goals. As we
can see, this switch in perception of cultural heritage happened
while the project of the Cultural Heritage Code was on the halt.
Unfortunately, one can see that in recent years, while discovering
this real economic potential, a series of projects were developed
only because of the specific goal of getting money for them. In
such cases, the quality of restoration was usually only a secondary
154 issue compared to the bureaucratic aspects of funding. Thus, the
effects of such policies have been devastating for many of the
monuments involved, by distorting their authenticity to a great
extent or even by irreversibly destroying the original material. In
a random order, some of the affected monuments include the
fortresses and the central squares of Râşnov and Alba Iulia or
archaeological relevant sites such as the fortresses in Suceava
and Capidava. The archaeological Roman site of central Alba Iulia
was razed with bulldozers while refurbishing the park within its
Vauban fortress. This fashion was also taken over the border,
to the medieval fortress of Soroca, in the Republic of Moldova,
where a Romanian design team and a Romanian building
company transformed that 15th century monument into an
impression of “what should have been at the origin”, without
proper scientific evidence to support this operation. Sadly, these
examples are the direct result of the important financial input
from the European Union. The question of such distortion of built
heritage is certainly not only the problem of Romania but one that
tends to affect all Eastern European. In Eastern Europe it would
be more likely that such large investments are made due to the
level of the economic development of those countries. In Athens
2016, at the annual meeting of the Europa group of ICOMOS,
this issue was raised with concern by several other national
committees, within the scientific meeting on the specific topic of
“Reconstructions”.
Therefore, the future Cultural Heritage Code should anticipate
this type of economic pressure and the conflicts between the
cultural needs and the restrictions brought by the financial and
bureaucratic procedures. It has to be taken into account that,
when results are evaluated, these bureaucratic issues appear to
be more important than the cultural ones. This is why it is more
likely that projects specifically aimed at the rehabilitation of built
cultural heritage are not really efficient from the cultural point
of view and that in the future the funding system should be
reorganized on different evaluation criteria. If the catalyst role of
built heritage shall be recognized as such, it should be better in
the future that the major operational programs include selection
criteria that would make the heritage conservation component
a priority. This would mean that heritage could be more present
as a key selection criterion in all of the existing 9 different lines
of action of the structural funds scheme3 . For this reason, one of
the fundamental principles enunciated by the proposed Cultural
Heritage Code is the one clearly stating the fact that maintaining
and enhancing cultural heritage is one of the four pillars of
sustainable development4 .
Another significant aspect connected to heritage protection
as part of sustainable development is the concept of cultural
landscape. Even if Romania is one of the first countries ratifying
the European Landscape Convention (Florence 2001), it still
did not take any concrete legislative measure following this
act. Ignoring the landscape issue as a vital element of national
cultural heritage or as an essential mechanism of sustainable
development had direct consequences. Over the years we could
only see degrading many unique areas (such as the Black Sea
coast, a territory under constant development pressure even
in protected areas), causing collateral economic losses. In this
respect, landscape should also represent the integrator for public
policies aiming at protecting cultural and natural heritage in order
to achieve the proper economic development of the respective
zones.
Under these circumstances, we can conclude that the economic
potential of heritage is still not perceived in full and that there
is a clear tendency to use heritage just as a pretext for spending
with projects that are not enough controlled in respect of their
mostly negative and irreversible consequences for built heritage.
This situation was even addressed in European Parliament, as
a common European issue, and a report on this subject was
prepared by the Vice President of the Committee for culture
and education and presented in plenum of the parliamentary
assembly in September 20155 .
In 2015, within this domestic and international context, the
National Strategy for Defense of Romania was revised, one of
the novelties being the fact that cultural heritage was identified
as a key element in terms of the values, interests and symbols
that define a strong Romania6. Ever since, from this point of view,
cultural heritage became a matter of national security.
Work on the Cultural Heritage Code resumed in 2014 by
the appointment of a task group distinct from the ministry’s
apparatus, practically putting into question all written
materials gathered from the previous administrations. Shortly
thereafter, changes in the ministry leadership resulting from the
rearrangement of the political majority in Parliament put the code
on a halt until the end of 2015. When the political structure of the
government changed again, at the beginning of 2016, a new task
group was appointed by decision of the new minister of culture.
This group continued the work of its predecessor, but had to take
again into discussion the core principles of the project. The first
clear results were the 10 principles and the general structure of
the proposed code. Beside these, most of the concrete proposals
for the provisions involving immovable heritage were also written.
From this point on, a small group, part of the elaboration team
completed the document entitled “Preliminary Theses of the
Cultural Heritage Code” containing the principles, the structure
of the legislative proposals and the main explanation and
description of the expected content of the law, by article titles.
This document was circulated within the main ministries and
governmental agencies potentially affected or interested by the
legislative proposals. It was modified and completed according
to specific observations of these administrative structures and
obtained all the necessary consents. Ultimately, it was approved
by a Government Decision in November 2016. According to the
rules of the legislative process, this would be the starting point for
the Government to formulate a detailed proposal for a Code, in
order to be submitted to the Parliament.
This would be in brief the path and the context of the
development of the Cultural Heritage Code. The failure in
producing by now a precise and concentrated text serving as
a single framework for managing cultural heritage can still
be explained in many more details than that. The text that
substantiates the Preliminary Theses is doing precisely this.
Who should write the actual text of the reform in cultural
heritage legislation?
I already raised this question in a article publi shed by the
journal “Dilema Veche” in 20157 . I was then skeptical about the
promptness in devising a simpler, clearer and more effective
legislation because of the professional profile of the potential
persons that could be involved in such a task. It appears that
our dilemma is whether the new law should be written by the
clerks of the current administrative system or if these should
limit themselves to collect and assemble proposals from the
“people of culture” - as the general public identifies those who
are part of the so called cultural industry. These two options
could generate radical different approaches and results, the
choice being of pragmatic nature. It is obvious that politicians
and others involved in legislative or administrative sectors do not
have a proper understanding of heritage needs and, on the other
hand, those that are involved in cultural sectors usually have
no expertise in the field of law, policy and administration. The
problem became even more complicated since first drafts of the
code were developed by public clerks at the Ministry of Culture
who, due to the many other tasks they were responsible for, had
little time for such a delicate job. In fact, being overwhelmed by
their current tasks, they could focus only on their expertise field
and, on top of that, it appeared that there was no unifying vision 155
for the project. By “unifying vision” one should figure at least the
answers to the fundamental generic questions: “why?”, “what?”,
“to which extent?”, “with what costs?”, “who?” and some other
similar issues related to the management of public budget or of
the administrative system.
Starting “bottom up” or “top down”?
Another explanation for the delay in delivering a Cultural Heritage
Code is connected to the improper way in which the juridical
information necessary to be comprised in the new code was
structured. Very different results can be obtained when trying
to bundle all articles of the existing laws and sort them into a
new and unified one compared to running a process where one
would determine first some core principles of some vision. Such
a vision (either social, political, moral, economical or of other
similar nature) would be afterwards translated into lines of
actions, definitions, general rules and procedures of an entirely
new legislative text. The first option would generate a titanic
work, almost for sure without a clear goal, due to the fact that is
difficult to integrate all species of cultural heritage in this kind of
approach. Another problem is that for many of the current legal
provisions we seem to have forgotten the motivation of their
existence, some of them even tending to distort their original
scopes that emerged in late 19th century. One example could be
the concept of pre-emption. Another one would be the concept
of compulsory purchase applied to built heritage in need of
salvage. In both cases there arose the need to redefine them,
but such attempts were always related to their formal definition
and not to their essence. In fact, expropriation of built heritage
never happened because of the ambiguity of the legal definition,
including its relation to the purpose of such administrative action.
Ambiguity appears both in the legislation for built heritage
 Up: 2. Potlogi, Brancoveanu palace
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2014
Down: 3. Cisna ådioara biserica
sf.Mihail
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2012
156
and in the specific legislation on expropriation. It is not clear
today, neither for the general public nor (more importantly)
for the public administration, whether expropriation is a scope
in itself or it is merely an administrative tool. It is not clear
whether, in case of built heritage, expropriation has to be seen
as a punishment for the negligent owner or just as an extreme
measure for extreme situations that is made available to the
public authority. The same ambiguity is connected to pre-emption
since there is no substantiation of the right of the first buyer
given to public authorities. Therefore, almost no built heritage
pre-emptive acquisition happens as the purpose of such action
is unclear, hence debatable, and therefore a subject of potential
accusations towards the authority that would pursue it. When
such legal concepts are expressed without being subordinated to
clear principles, accepted and supported by most of the citizens,
they tend to be distorted in poor legal definitions resulting from
multiple amendments that occur during a long legislative process.
Principles and political consensus
As described above, the obstacles in the process of devising a
coherent legal text may be overcome only if the society would
agree on some fundamental ideas. A viable Cultural Heritage Code
should result from a set of principles that are easy to explain and
easy to understand. On the other hand, these principles have to
be widely accepted by the civil society and by the political parties.
This is a conclusion expressed in the explanatory text of the legal
project, in the part that identifies a series of aspects that require
a general political consensus in order for the law to be properly
enforced in the future. A part of them are reproduced hereafter.
Obviously, the need of cultural heritage protection inevitably
involves some legal measures that might create duties upon the
owners’ property rights. Compulsory maintenance or restoration
works would always generate higher costs in cultural heritage
properties compared to ordinary ones. It would also imply special
materials, sometimes it would require special skilled and trained
workers and complex technical procedures. All these aspects
lead to the idea of adequate compensations or support (fiscal,
financial or technical) provided by public authorities, in a degree
that still has to be decided by the society. It also requires a well
balanced coercion system enforced by public authorities, either at
the central or at the local level. Together – support and coercion –
they set up an administrative framework that might be perceived
in various ways, from lax to oppressive, depending on the political
doctrine of the party assessing it.
That is why setting the boundaries of the public policy actions
under the new legislative framework should have the widest
acceptance within society in general - be it politically represented
in parliament or by various non-governmental organizations,
commonly identified as “civil society”. As desired, there should be
an increase in the degree of law enforcement on a voluntary basis
and improved conditions so that the most efficient administrative
support can be granted. These boundaries have to be reasonable
to the broadest possible spectrum of society, in particular with
regard to a reasonable level for restricting ownership of protected
cultural proprieties or to the extent to which private owners can
be assisted by public budgets in order to protect and emphasise
assets registered as cultural heritage. They may also refer to the
severity or to the tolerance of the system of sanctions both in
their penal and contraventional forms and also to the State’s
option or obligation to intervene in special situations that could
be identified in a narrow range or, on the contrary, an extended
one.
On the other hand, the prevalence of the public interest over
157
the private interest and the fact that the protection of heritage
(cultural or natural) is an activity of public interest are concepts
that are neither explicit nor unanimously accepted. For
instance, in the current legislation we can see the prevalence
of environmental issues as compared to the preservation of
heritage. The case of Roşia Montană mining project offers the
best example of this state of affairs. It could be seen in this case
that the opposition to that project originated mainly for reasons
of environmental safety, namely the intended destruction of
the landscape by grinding off four mountains and the cyanide
accumulation on a huge scale. The question of millenary heritage
was less present in the public space even if it was easy to observe
that the first irrevocable casualty there would be the cultural
heritage. Hence the issue of the cultural heritage of Roşia
Montană is the fundamental issue in any decision making process.
This is proven by the numerous international calls to include this
objective in the UNESCO World Heritage List, since heritage in
Roşia Montană has unique characteristics, relevant to the history
of humanity. Obviously, the eventual loss of this heritage would
happen prior to any kind of pollution associated to the open pit
mining project. This attitude in setting priorities reflects once
more the negative effects of ignoring landscape as a planning and
development tool, a tool that integrates both cultural and natural
heritage, which are in fact inseparable.
However, the prevalence of environmental problems in relation
to heritage is most visible in the case of the so-called “thermal
rehabilitation” of existing building stock. In this matter, there was
no problem to devise a dedicated legal framework to support
enhancement of insulation in private housing. It led sometimes
to total subsidization for the increase of thermal efficiency of
the facades of many collective private housing in Romania. On
the opposite, the need to restore facades of privately owned
 On the next page:
4. Floresti, Cantacuzino palace
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino,
2014
158
historic monuments generates a different reaction of the public
authorities. In these circumstances they tend to justify themselves
for doing nothing to stop the constant decay of public space by
arguing that “there is no way to interfere with private property”.
It is an argument used whenever it was necessary to secure and
restore façade elements of protected buildings. On the contrary,
intervention upon this type of properties raised no problem for
the same authorities when the aging decorations of the facades
had to be stripped off in the name of public safety. It happened
recently in Cluj Napoca or in Bucharest, two of the most
resourceful cities in Romania. Even the “Sibiu - European Capital
of Culture 2007” program could have been severely impaired a
decade ago, despite the provisions in force (in Law 422/2001 and
in two separate government decisions) at the time that, in theory,
allowed public authorities to support private monuments owners.
Still, it took an additional normative act - GD 237/2006 – in order
to fund restoring the façades of the privately owned monuments
through this program. The benefits we can still see today, many
years after the end of that vast cultural program that, in fact,
turned out to be economically successful on a national scale. So,
when applied to the same properties, destruction appear to be
easier than conservation. Under these circumstances one might
obviously conclude that there is a problem in the concept of the
legal framework.
Another fundamental policy issue that may slow down the coding
process is the level of decentralization. The most balanced degree
of such decentralization in Romania’s administration has still to be
established. So far, in the projects promoted on decentralization
there have been sufficient proposals that might leave the central
cultural heritage authority without any lever to exercise real
control in the territory. This would be a certain fact ad it’s been
159
proposed a total transfer of competences at the local level on
approval, control and authorization. This option alarmed the
entire community of stakeholders in the field of cultural built
heritage protection, especially in connection to urban protected
areas.
The question of protected areas is certainly concerning local
authorities in the first place, as it is their prerogative to regulate
their urban development. But the fate of such areas does not lie
exclusively with the local competence in which the respective
historical centers are protected. Obviously, any error resulting
from the action of the leading political forces or from the local
economic pressure of the moment can lead to the alteration of
a heritage that, in fact, generates public image and economic
benefits at a national level. We may come to this conclusion only
by taking into account the flow of foreign tourists towards these Totally dependent on a general political consensus is also heritage protection – it was never meant that the tax should
specific sites. This is applicable to at least all those historical the creation of a balanced system for the funding of heritage increase by that percentage. Later on, as a result of the economic
localities that are included in the UNESCO World Heritage List ,but protection. In this respect, in the last decades it emerged clearly crisis that started in 2008, gambling revenues destined to the
not only to them. Therefore, in order to decide where the rational that covering this need directly through annual public budgets protection of historic monuments were redirected (by Emergency
limit is to be drawn in the process of decentralization, so that a is not satisfactory. The issue of the tax on historical monuments Ordinance of the Government no. 77/2009) to the central
reasonable balance would be found between the competences of has illustrated this need very well when funding has been first budget, without a clearly specified destination. In 2010, some
the local administration and those of the central administration, a connected to and then detached from the revenues of the members of parliament had a legislative initiative (L391/2010,
broad political consensus needs to be reached. Such a consensus State coming from taxes on gambling. When introducing the Legislative proposal for completing Article 53 of the Law no.
should go beyond what is strictly necessary for the adoption of revenue stamp on historical monuments into the Law 259/2006, 422/2001 on the protection of historical monuments) aimed at
a legal framework, it should aim at achieving a mentality and amending the Law 422/2001 on the protection of historic restoring this source of income to the benefit of the cultural built
practice capable to ensure consistency and predictability in monuments, there was opposition to this measure. The first heritage. It was definitively rejected by the Chamber of Deputies
addressing the needs of cultural heritage. Within this context, reaction of the National Lottery was to increase the price per in the plenary session of 03.06.2014. It is not by chance that in
it has to be also emphasised the need to clarify another numerical combination played and to state explicitly on the back many other European countries the funding of cultural heritage
fundamental issue. The notion of “public interest” in connection of the game bulletins that the price had been raised because of protection is made from the financial resources generated by
to cultural heritage, respectively the pre eminence of the general historical monuments and the introduction of the 2% revenue the national lotteries. It is a historical fact that, when the lottery
interest over the local one have to be better described or even stamp. Such a message could only harm the public commitment system in Romania was introduced in the19th century, based on
stated in the new law. to the benefit of heritage, since the law provided explicitly only the French model, it was a monopoly of the state. The permission
that 2% from the existing taxation is precisely directed to built given to organize a private lottery was then strict and had precise
 purposes, namely to support arts or social cases, to encourage
tourism development of certain holiday areas (it is no accident
that historical casinos are emblems of some old spa resorts).
Therefore, identifying the social purposes in which the proceeds
of the gambling tax could be used would be a major political
issue. It would also be fundamental to the State’s financial
capacity to support the cause of its cultural heritage without
generating additional taxes or charges for the population.
Equally political is the opportunity to decide on the financial or
fiscal model to be established by the Heritage Code. The question
is: should we still consider a weak state subsidy model or should
we initiate a reform? A reform would imply to use either a clear re
160 direction of percentages of the proceeds of the National Lottery
or to set up a form of sovereign investment fund dedicated to
multi-annual programs. Independently. Money coming from
lottery taxes is inevitably fluctuating but, at least, it doesn’t
burden the state budget based of current taxes and duties while
a sovereign fund would result from administrating investments
and properties. Models like Nobel Prizes awarded from the
Norwegian inventor’s wealth by the foundation that bears his
name, as his testamentary covenant8 could be observed. Another
model would be the Gojdu scholarships that were granted in late
19th and early 20th centuries from the benefits of administering
the property of the Romanian patriot, constituted by testament
as a legacy to Gojdu Foundation9. A reform in this sense is
absolutely necessary and the choices can only have a political and
administrative origin.
Again, this leads to the conclusion that we certainly need
a broader political consensus in order to obtain a coherent
vision of the cultural heritage and its protection policies. Such
a consensus can not really exist if it does not crystallize around
clear principles. With the support of ICOMOS Romania10 , several
rules have been identified, amended and supplemented, which
we can now consider to be essential and a proper foundation for
a viable Cultural Heritage Code. These were brought for debate
in the working groups established with a view to elaborate the
code. Following these debates, the 10 rules that must stand at
the origin of the expected law were synthesized. These have to
be inserted as such within the code, in a preliminary chapter, with
the precise goal to use them to better determine in the future
whether certain public policies orientated towards the cultural
heritage might be considered legitimate or not. Moreover, the
principles generate a pyramidal structure of the legal information
in the code, starting from their enunciation applicable to all
administrative cultural heritage practices. On this basis, a set
of rules common to all cultural heritage (tangible or intangible)
can then be established, detailing further only those measures
that would be specifically required for one or another of the
components of this heritage.
I reproduce hereafter the principles as we formulated them in the
Preliminary Theses of the Cultural Heritage Code.
I. Principle of non-renewable resources and sustainable
development:
Cultural heritage is a set of material and immaterial values that
constitute a non-renewable resource of fundamental importance
for the national identity and for the sustainable development.
II. The principle of public interest and of the State’s
responsibilities:
The protection of national cultural heritage is of public utility
and engages the responsibility of the State as it derives from the
Constitution.
III. The principle of diversity and complementarity of cultural
identities, without discrimination:
The protection and enhancement of the national cultural heritage
implies maintaining the diversity and complementarity of all its
expressions and forms, being either local or regional, regardless
if the social group that generated them can be characterized as
“minority” or “majority”.
IV. Principle of equitable responsibilities for each citizen in the
protection of cultural heritage:
Protecting the national cultural heritage is the responsibility of all
citizens but should not become a burden for any of them.
V. Principle of unity between cultural heritage and its context:
The cultural heritage is a complex of expressions, made up
of iconic items but also of less important elements that,
nevertheless, constitute the context of an iconic item and
contribute by association to its value.
VI. Principle of Authenticity:
The protection of cultural heritage aims at preserving and
transmitting the cultural resource to future generations in its
authentic and unaltered form.
VII. The principle of specialization:
The protection of cultural heritage involves a complex of actions
requiring a high specialization.
VIII. The principle of education:
Cultural heritage education is an inseparable part of the education
system and of the life long learning process of citizens.
IX. The principle of inclusion and accessibility:
Cultural heritage is the foundation for an inclusive and
participatory society.
X. Principle of identity and priority of obligations within the
international context:
Cultural heritage policy is an important part of Romania’s foreign
policies and the compliance to international treaties on the
protection of ratified cultural heritage is a priority.
If these principles were adopted and assumed by the entire
political system, and if society showed a broad acceptance of
them, a certain future for the Cultural Heritage Code might really
be consi dered. On the other hand, without a critical mass, things
will remain unchanged because there is still much to do in writing
the actual law texts, long after the approval of the Government’s
Preliminary Theses. Naturally, the well configured framework for
most of these articles already exists. However, it must be very
clear to everyone that a scientific and a professional agreement
may prove to be more difficult to achieve than a political one.
This means that things will drag for a while, until we will have a
relatively complete and fully coherent final text. The consistency,
simplicity and clarity of the future law are the sole premises for a
good management.
However, probably the most important goal in promoting these
principles in the future law (and in the sustainable public policies
that will follow) is to achieve an attractive legal framework
capable to convince citizens and any involved legal entities to
voluntary comply with the rigors required for preserving and
highlighting our cultural heritage.
Instead of conclusions
In November 2016, the Government approved the Preliminary
Theses of the Cultural Heritage Code, the decision (GD nr.
905/29.11.2016) being published in the Official Journal11.
According to the legal framework, the content of the future
concrete provisions will have to follow the sense, the general
orientation and the main solutions stated by the theses.
At that time, given the political context of the scheduled
parliamentary elections, I anticipated that the issue of continuing
the codification process will again be set aside for a while.
Unfortunately I was right in this respect. Without a real political
will, this extremely important project appeared to be buried one
more time. Important issues tend again to be subject of punctual
changes, based on the idea that if the code has no future, at least
to patch some of the existing flaws in the current legislation. In
the end, however, all these corrections will just be exactly that:
some patches on old clothes which, as they are fixed in one place,
they break into another. When one dresses up in such clothes
and gets out into the world, he will end up drawing everyone’s
attention due to the fact that a red pocket sewn with a white
thread on a green sleeve is never something of the best taste.
In this context, the existence of a document issued by the
Government that, at least, states the “ten commandments of
cultural heritage” (as we like to consider the principles enounced
above) might be considered an important step forward in the
making of the Cultural Heritage Code. Currently, one year after
the approval of the preliminary thesis, the National Institute of
Heritage is waiting for the acceptance of a cultural project aiming
at enhancing heritage legal system with the support of European
funding within the frame of POCA – Operational Program for 161
Improving the Administrative Capacity.
This is a translated version of an article published in: “Tendinţe
curente în protecţia patrimoniului arheologic din România şi
Republica Moldova”, Chişinău/Iaşi, Editura ARC, 2016, volume
coordinated by dr. Sergiu MUSTEAŢĂ, pp 93-108.
It reproduced parts of the text that are substantiating the
Preliminary Thesis of Cultural Heritage and that were written by
me, as coordinator of the task group established for this purpose
in the Ministry of Culture.
NOTES
1
http://ziarero.antena3.ro/articol.php?id=1284647815 (accessible November
2017)
2
https://www.agerpres.ro/economie/2017/08/07/romania-a-cheltuit-cel-mai-
putin-din-uniunea-europeana-pentru-cultura-in-2015-12-58-39 (accessible
November 2017)
3
details at: http://www.fonduri-structurale.ro (accessible November 2017)
4
UNESCO, The Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity, 2001; UN,
Johannesburg World Summit on Sustainable Development, 2002; UNESCO, The
Paris Declaration „On Heritage as a driver for development”, 2011
5
http://www.europarl.europa.eu/sides/getDoc.do?pubRef=-//EP//
TEXT+REPORT+A8-2015-0207+0+DOC+XML+V0//RO (accessible November 2017)
6
http://www.presidency.ro/files/userfiles/Strategia_Nationala_de_Aparare_a_
Tarii_1.pdf (accessible November 2017)
7
“Patrimoniul cultural politic”, in Dilema veche, nr. 584, 23-29 April 2015,
available also online at: http://dilemaveche.ro/sectiune/tema-saptamanii/
articol/patrimoniul-cultural-politic (accessible November 2017)
8
https://www.nobelprize.org/press/, accessible November 2017
9
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emanoil_Gojdu accessible November 2017
10
The Romanian National Committee ICOMOS has published on its website
this Decalogue of Heritage on the occasion of the National Culture Day,
January 15, 2015: http://www.icomos.ro/COMUNICAT-CNR-ICOMOS-TEZELE-
PATRIMONIULUI.pdf, accessible November 2017.
11
Monitorul Oficial, Partea I, nr. 1047/27.12.2016
 CULTURAL VALUES BETWEEN PRESERVATION THEORY, PRACTICE AND LAW.
EXCERPTS FROM THE ROMANIAN STORY
Hanna DERER
162
As expected, due to its nature, the current legal system in
Romania concerns itself not with “cultural values” but with
“historical monuments”. Moreover, within the specific law,
these are defined as properties, buildings and sites, that are not
“valuable” but “significant”1. Only, as well unsurprisingly, as soon
as the approach loses juridical strength in favour of the technical
one, terms as “e/valuation” and “value” find their way into rules
and regulations. With regard to the given topic, the most relevant
one is the methodological standard2 enforced for the inventories
required to identify possible future historical monuments, as
well as for the listing process. Being thus stated as the main
document that is still compulsory for anyone (as the law itself),
but also meant as a direct working instrument for experts, the
given procedure should be the link uniting (or even integrating)
the scientific view (as the only possible basis) and the legal
understanding of what preservation aims to achieve.
Age and Authenticity or “The Princess and the Frog”
The (above mentioned) methodological standard enacts
four assessing criteria: “a) age; b) the one referring to the
architectural, artistic and urbanistic value; c) that regarding
frequency; d) the standard concerning the memorial and
symbolic value”3. At first sight, this way of categorising the
various types of cultural values may be perceived as natural for,
in the end, these are meant to state the difference between
historical monuments and any other inheritance. But a second
look reveals the fact that buildings, ensembles, fragments of
urban and rural fabric and even whole human settlements, thus
items that are the products of architecture, of spontaneous
and / or planned developments at a larger scale and often
valued also for aesthetic features owed to the contribution of
the fine arts, have to be “measured” at first with a tool that has
nothing to do with any of these. Moreover, the value deriving
from age is strictly defined with respect to the year or period
the given artefact has been created. If erected before 1775 it is
exceptionally worthy, if created between 1775 and 1830 it enjoys
a very high appreciation, while items founded between 1830 and
1870 are considered of (simply) great importance. Accordingly,
historical monuments (or historical monuments to-be) built
between 1870 and 1920 should be perceived only of medium
value, those dating back to the period between 1920 and 1960
of low significance, while anything shaped after 1960 is, in the
eyes of the current law, completely worthless4. Facing this legally
binding scale, the first question that arises regards the concept
of a time limit (no matter which) in itself5, a question that may
find its answer in the barely studied historical evolution of what
is presently called preservation of cultural heritage. Nevertheless,
if approached from this angle, it is not the beginnings which
should be interrogated, for this area of activity started naturally
as a higher interest for antique items, not only all over Europe6,
but also in Romania. The specific scientific attentiveness of the
19th century7 was clearly “translated” eventually into the “legal
language” when, in 1915, the newly enforced law did declare all
churches and monasteries erected before 1834 to be historical
monuments8. Only, as already pointed out, referring to the
present-day time limit, it is rather the recent history of the field
that is relevant. In this regard, a quite strong indicator is the last
substantial study focusing on Bucharest, carried out before the
regime change occurred in 19909, between 1975 and 197710,
and aiming to define the historical core of the city. According to
the brief description of the applied method11, the first and key
criterion to identify both the historical centre and the larger so-
called “historical area” has been the age of all main components
of the urban tissue: street net, plots and building stock. In brief,
1. Property in 12A Nicolae Iorga
street in Bucharest – the former
Mihail Suțu estate.
163
within and for the last major preservation research on the
capital city (completed before 1990), the guiding principles did
overstress the value defined (solely) by numbers of decades and
centuries.
On the other hand, the present attitude did not automatically
adopt the inherited, historically developed position, as, according
to the current law, “Valuation based upon the age criterion is
balanced by authenticity in design, in building materials and
techniques and in setting, inversely proportional to age”12.
Although obviously this paragraph may need updating13, it
still states a common sense fact, valid in any case: the older a
building, the less genuine it is, (naturally) with regard to the first
stage of its historic time line (i.e. the period it was conceived
and erected according to the initial intents) and vice versa.
In other words, while a venerable long existence may hide
transplants and prostheses, the right kiss (of authenticity) may
turn the unattractive frog into a (still) young and desirable prince
(historical monument). But even in this simplified formula, the
legally binding requirement of weighing age with the scales of
authenticity is seldom applied.
One example14 regards the property in 12A Nicolae Iorga street in
Bucharest – the former Mihail Suțu estate (fig. 1/2) that took (like
in the story) three attempts to be finally rightfully appreciated
for its lifetime and genuineness. For the first time, this realty
has been assessed per se (and not, for instance, as one of many
urban components) in 2005, when the given study ascertained
that the [main] building had been erected in 1883, assumed
that the initial design regarding the inner spaces must have
been preserved, mentioned the vaulted cellar dating back to the
19th century and noticed that the facades are well preserved15,
without paying any real attention to these features. Four
years later, using the same information, an additional report,
 2. Property in 12A Nicolae Iorga
street in Bucharest – the former
Mihail Suțu estate. Photograph from
the end of the 19th century.
164
accepted all these former data and, moreover, established
without hesitation16 that the earliest concept referring to
the interior is still clearly recognisable, even stating that, with
regard to the 1883 stage, just minor changes had occurred.
Still, the significance ascribed with regard to age was defined as
medium17 i.e. precisely that imposed by law for edifices erected
between 1870 and 1920. It was the third research, completed
in 201618, that, in addition, has offered proof (also) for the
relative authenticity of the exterior envelope, by identifying and
analysing a photograph from the end of the 19th century (fig.
2), that revealed two major different yet perfectly integrated
building phases that, consequently, enhance each other’s merits.
As a consequence, instead of being (legally) considered (plainly)
of medium age value, the main edifice deserves to be appraised
as highly significant.
On Architectural, Artistic and, Particularly, on Urbanistic Values
or “Cinderella”
The property in 12A Nicolae Iorga street in Bucharest has been
underrated for several years as concerns its authenticity, but
also with regard to the second criterion enforced by the current
methodology, the one referring to “architectural, artistic and
urbanistic values” and which “aims to define the aesthetic
functional and technical value” of the given real estate, taking
into account any relevant aspect, starting with its design’s degree
of coherence, up to the relationship to its environment of any
kind19.
Looked at through this lenses, the former Mihail Suțu dwelling
(fig. 1) has been assessed in recent times (i.e. since 199020),
no later than 1992, when the whole street was listed as an
ensemble, along with four of its other buildings and their
premises21, namely those at the numbers 1, called “House
Grădișteanu”, 8 (today 8-10), “House Pillat”, 19, initially owned
by the Ollănescu family22, and 21, “House Arion”23. Under such
circumstances it may be of interest that, at least in one working
copy of the 1992 Historical Monuments’ List24, a fifth estate was
typed in, but afterwards crossed out: it has no number (for, not
even today, all edifices are signposted) but it is described as
hosting the Artists’ National Union. The newest research on the
property in 12A25 has (re)discovered that at least the main house,
the one facing the street, has been partially used as workshops
by different artists, until not that long ago26. Consequently, it may
be27 that, by 1992, the asset has been also envisioned for listing
but, in the end, rejected – most probably due to the lack of any
comprehensive research28, a hypothesis suggested, for instance,
by the fact, that, by that time, not even the former owner, Mihail
Suțu29, was known, as it was the case of other residences.
At any rate, eight years later, the asset was included into one of
the protected areas of Bucharest, recognised as such by means
of a specific urban regulation, adopted by the city council in
200030. This local law was requested by experts in order to
preserve valuable urban tissue, not necessarily containing
extraordinary, i.e. listed, edifices and / or ensembles, the kind
of fabric consisting in significant street nets, plots, green areas,
relationships between these, as well as between these and the
buildings. Judged thus at the scale of a larger urban extent,
the former Suțu dwelling was included – remarkably31 – not in
the protected area to which most of the Nicolae Iorga street
belongs, namely number 29, defined as “diffuse traditional
tissue”, but in the one comprising the oldest representative axis
of the whole town, Calea Victoriei – Victory Road, defined as
the symbol(ic street) of the city, i.e. the protected area number
1632. In brief, although it was not listed, when observed at urban
scale (and not at that of a single architectural object or of a
small-seized ensemble), the property in 12A Nicolae Iorga street
was considered to belong rather to the “family” of the (main)
boulevard than to that of the (central but still common) traffic
way.
Only, the status assigned to the former Suțu property by the
3. House Pillat, Bucharest
165
protected areas enforced in 2000 was not taken into account
by the first comprehensive study focusing primarily on this very
estate (performed in 2005). As a matter of fact, probably quite
the opposite happened for, being declared as being one of the
most evocative and emblematic group of edifices from the turn
of the 19th to the 20th century, inevitably the realty in 12A
Nicolae Iorga street was compared at least with the nearby ones
that face Victory Road, the “House Pillat” (fig. 3) and, doubtless,
with the “House Grădișteanu” (fig. 4). Although lower, the first
shows a richer decoration, with a greater impact on passers-
by (and not only), while the latter is obviously the landmark of
the crossing, due to its position, its impressive volume and its
architectural and ornamental opulence, that inevitably shadows
everything around. As a consequence, if the study carried out
in 2005 aimed, as declared, to assess the former Suțu property
within its relationships to the surrounding urban tissue and,
by doing so, fell into the trap defined by a simple comparison
with its context, the following judgement is less surprising
“Conclusion: We think that the realty in 12A Nicolae Iorga street
«House Mihail Suțu» does not meet sufficient architectural,
urbanistic and memorial qualities in order to give justification for
its listing as a historical monument, the building being one that
belongs to the ordinary stock of the town.” 33
 4. House Grădișteanu, Bucharest
5. Former Suțu property, Bucharest
166
Possibly encouraged by this deduction, three years later, in
2008, the owner did apply for the consent to demolish the
edifice, but, on the request of the experts’ forum entitled to
analyse such cases, the local authorities asked for a second
opinion. According to the law, the National Cultural Heritage
Institute was thus commissioned, in 2009, with the (counter)
expertise, a document that also briefly reports on the recent
events34 and quotes the study carried out in 2005 – including
its later extension consisting in precise instructions for future
actions: “the building may be replaced partial or totally; due
to the vaulting, the cellar is an architectural solution that may
be reused; […] if a new building is to be designed, this should
be subordinated to the historical monuments of the vicinity
(the houses Grădișteanu, Pillat, Krețulescu)”35. In brief, in 2008,
completely disregarded, the former Suțu property was one step
away to be erased. Fortunately, using (precisely) the (same) data
and information offered by the 2005 study, the 2009 expertise
provided a different interpretation and the former Suțu estate
in 12A Nicolae Iorga street was (eventually) listed36. It may be of
interest that it was exactly what the 2005 study despised, that
the 2009 expertise appreciated: an ordinary dwelling among
luxury residences. But is it really the case?
As a matter of fact, as the 2016 research37 has demonstrated,
being placed straight towards the public sidewalk and due to
its one storey height, the former Suțu property dominates the
neighbours since the day its main building was erected (fig. 1,
3), in spite of the changes the latter have undergone (fig. 4, 5).
Its position makes it less intimate and less cosy than the older
edifice across the street, the previous Krețulescu home, that
avoids the direct contact with the street and surrounds itself with
trees (fig. 2, 4), while both its stature and its severe architecture
makes it, in the end, more imposing (in an official manner) than
the younger building to its west, the former Pillat dwelling (fig.
3, 5). This may bedazzle with its richer ornaments, but is still a
low density type of house. Quite the opposite, the former Suțu
property seems to have fulfilled its urbanistic mission, for it has
introduced in this area of Bucharest a sort of residence that no
longer reminds of the rural ones, a sort of residence that fully
belongs to the central urban fabric. On the other hand, the
former Suțu property “is aware” of the fact that it is standing
along a secondary traffic way, the Nicolae Iorga street, and thus
leaves the top position in the overall hierarchy of a larger zone
to the plot at the crossing with the main representative axis of
Bucharest, the Victory Road, a plot that is correctly occupied by
the former Grădișteanu estate (fig. 6). Eventually, if the extended
fragment of urban tissue is analysed with respect to the various
categories of character to be perceived and read within the
urban images, this segment of the Nicolae Iorga street shows
no less than six such types (fig. 7) – succeeding each other in
the correct manner. Starting in the west, at the corner to the
Victory Road, towards east, where it merges with the Henri
Coandă street, in the midst of the island, the passer-by enjoys:
the most representative area of the previous Grădișteanu estate,
required by the prestigious Victory Road (fig. 6), followed, in the
best suitable manner, by the previous Pillat and Suțu properties
that make a still formal but less impressive transit (fig. 5) to the
intimate atmosphere of the residential area laying deep in the
urban fabric, as far as possible of main and thus crowded traffic
roads. This category consists actually in three different types. The
oldest one may be called “traditional” and is perfectly illustrated
by the prior Krețulescu home, a ground floor building surrounded
by a generous, as size, village like plot (fig. 4). Later on, during
the interbellum period, the “modern” type of living – in blocks
of flats – was spread on its part only to become, after the second
world war, the most frequent one. As the Nicolae Iorga street
develops in the centre of the city, both the ‘30s (fig. 8) and the
‘70s (fig. 9) did produce mainly high quality specimens and
only two real estate speculations (fig. 10, on the left) – that, of
course, represents a fifth kind of character. The sixth is due to
the only two modest dwellings (fig. 10, on the right) that have
resisted or found somehow their way into this core area of
Bucharest38. At any rate, looked at within this context (and other
kind of interpretation), the former Suțu property, with its urban
assignment and the brilliant way it fulfils it, cannot be considered
(any longer) to belong “to the ordinary stock of the town.”39 . To
be recognised as the desired one, everything what Cinderella
needs is the pair of right shoes.
Memory and Symbols or “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”
Along with the urbanistic value of the 12A Nicolae Iorga street,
those referring to architecture and artistic feature of the same
property have been deepened by the 2016 research40, while that
regarding frequency – the third legally binding criterion – did
not require that considerable adjustments. Quite the opposite
was necessary in the case of the fourth compulsory standard,
that concerning the memorial and symbolic value. According to
6. Former Grădișteanu estate, Bu-
charest
167
the law this is meant to consider properties tied to particular
historical, cultural, political or social moments or places, as
well as those representative for certain personalities. Further,
vanished but historically significant edifices, as well as those
present in the memory of communities, at European, national
or local level are also to be treasured in the same sense, as do
estates connected to specific traditions.41
From this angle, the first study, the one accomplished in 2005,
has recognised that the former Suțu property “has memorial
value due to the personality who has inhabited it for quite
some time” but considered at the same time that the damages
of the inner space and the lack of information prevent the
reconstitution of the ambience Mihail Suțu lived in42. This opinion
was not shared by the 2009 report that pleas for a high memorial
value, without further explanations, except repeating that the
owner has been a famous numismatist and one of the governors
of the National Bank of Romania43.
One may assume that the account’s author has adopted (even if
not explicitly) the correct point of view by considering that not
only the interior decoration, along with furniture and personal
belongings have the power to evoke their possessors, but also
 7. Segment of the Nicolae Iorga
street, Bucharest
168
the “outside” architecture, the way the property is organised, as
well as the location. In the end, these have been also chosen by
the owner(s) and are, therefore, as representative for her / him
/ them – even if, undeniably, in a less eloquent manner than,
for instance, the writing desk, topped with the inkpot and the
feather. Still, especially in the case of dwellings commissioned
by a given personality, even less readable architectural
remains should be preserved, at least because these may be
complemented in the future, if the data and information missing
in the present would be revealed, and / or may be explained
in almost any conceivable manner through many types of
technologies.
This is definitely the case of the property in 12A Nicolae Iorga
street which was made to order for Mihail Suțu – the rigorous
and yet creative numismatist, the diligent and yet innovative
future director of the Romanian postal service, the governor to
be of the National Bank in Romania, who also tried to establish
an archaeology museum and has donated his collections to
the Romanian Academy44. Even if not directly, the outline of his
personality becomes stronger in the light thrown by the contrast
between the rather severe architecture of his main residence in
Bucharest, on one hand, and the summer retreat on the Black
Sea shore, in the town Constanța, on the other hand, a castle
like building with evident Moorish influences. Apparently, Mihail
Suțu did enjoy variety and knew the difference between the
domicile of the high rank official and the refuge of the scholar.
Further of his features may be revealed by the unusual way the
main building of the Bucharest property is positioned (fig. 7), for
it divides the plot not as accustomed, into a front garden and a
back yard, but into two halves that are both placed towards the
street. It looks like the eastern side that received the visitors and
was, to this purpose, separated of the street by a transparent
metal fence, was meant to act as a cour d’honneur, more open
to the public, while the western half, initially protected by an
opaque wall (fig. 2), behind the wooden fence of the Krețulescu
home), was used by the family as an intimate garden, they shared
only with close friends. Another interesting fact that can be still
noticed at the estate in 12A Nicolae Iorga street and that may at
least raise questions with regard to the live of its owner consists
in the expanding of the edifice, either very soon after its (first)
completion or on purpose in a manner very similar (but not
identical) to the initial concept. On the other hand, the (remains
of the open) fireplace in the main ground floor room speaks of
the preference for elegant comfort and, simultaneously, for quiet
and long evenings of meditation. An intriguing surprise may
be the association between the Revival beam heads under the
window of the main staircase that remind of the Romanesque
column heads, each one different from any other, and the
Sezession rail accompanying the steps. But even if the reason
for such unexpected aspects concerning Mihail Suțu’s taste in
architecture will be never discovered, such data are still able to
allow a deeper understanding of his life and character, without
his writing desk, his inkpot and his feather.
Only, eventually, it is not the buildings related to important
historical events and / or well known personalities that are
underrated when it comes to their memorial and / or symbolic
value for such highlights of the past are already recognised
as being significant and therefore valued, as this appreciation
expands (as expected) over most of the connected things. As a
matter of fact, there are other certain types of edifices that do
not fulfil the current legal requirements but should be taken into
account from this point of view.
The most eloquent case in this respect is that of industrial
buildings and ensembles that encounter problems also when
judged according to the other criteria. In Romania most of
the oldest items of this kind of heritage date back only to
the second half of the 19th century, a reason why their age
value is frequently not that high. Moreover, it is the nature of
industrial realties to grow whenever there is profit and to get
modernised whenever a new technology is invented, but as this
special characteristic resulted in even newer constructions, it
is, according to the present-day law, a flaw and not a (positive)
quality. Likewise, as industrial edifices and groups firstly have to
function as efficient as possible, other architectural features are
the lesser goal of their designing process, not to mention the
artistic ones. Looked at from the urban planning angle, as the
communication ways and means to the raw material sources, as
well to the markets have (also) changed dramatically, (historical)
industrial properties have lost most of the specific value. Last
but not least, many have never known glorious happenings and
/ or (technical) geniuses and, consequently, fail also in being
appreciated for memorial and / or symbolic reasons. Only, as
numerous (other) individuals of the past three to five generations
of all urban settlements have spent their lives working in such
buildings and ensembles, these gain the power of the many. As a
matter of fact, without the seven dwarfs there would have been
no Snow White for the mighty and handsome prince to awake
with his kiss.
Often small towns have no other valuable legacy items than the
religious ones, those serving education and the industrial items.
Losing one or the other means thus to severely diminish their
cultural identity – as it was the case of Țăndărei. At the beginning
of the ‘90s (of the 20th century), according to the 1992 Historical
Monuments’ List, this centre – that is placed in the most fertile
plain of Romania – owned only three listed properties – the mill,
erected in 1934, the (oldest) church, dating back to 1839, and
Fig. 8. Building in Nicolae Iorga
street, Bucharest (‘30s)
Fig. 9. Building in Nicolae Iorga
street, Bucharest (‘70s)
169
the school, an edifice of the 20th century (1905). The 2004 issue
of the list, the first one published within the official organ of the
Romanian government, still comprised all three properties45. But
already the next edition, the one of 2010, did record only, so to
speak, two and half historical monuments for, with respect to
the mill, only two of its facades were to be found on the list46.
And five years later, in 2015, the cultural heritage of Țăndărei
had shrunk to just two thirds of its initial inventory: the mill
or, to be more precise, what was left of it in the 2010 version,
had completely vanished, being delisted entirely – leaving the
settlement to express its history and cultural identity only with
the church and the school47.
Buildings disappear – in Romania not only from an inventory.
Most have been neglected for decades. The communist state had
no means for the huge number of nationalized properties, the
former owners, degraded to tenants, often in different dwellings,
had no interest. Whether if legally recognised as such or not,
most of the historical monuments were treated the same. As a
consequence, in the present, (too) many are in a poor (physical)
shape, not that easy to improve. It is thus understandable
that experts are mainly concerned to find, in each case, the
appropriate kind of intervention/s. The “how” to preserve
prevails.
This mission is twice as difficult for each item is unique but still
subject of general guiding principles – including those referring to
the evaluation process. From this last point of view, once again,
Romania finds itself in an unusual situation. After the regime shift
occurred in 1990, it was crucial to have, as soon as possible, a list
reflecting more accurate the cultural heritage in Romania that
the communist one which was severely influenced by politics48.
Therefore, the majority of the current historical monuments have
 Fig. 10. Buildings in Nicolae Iorga
street, Bucharest, Bucharest
170
been declared as such without a comprehensive research.
Moreover, not only buildings (are) change(d), but the assessment
principles and tools as well: new criteria are added, already
considered ones are provided more detailed definitions,
relationships between standards disregarded until yesterday can
no longer be ignored. In brief, the “what” to preserve has its own
and continuous development.
This is (only) one reason why it is, at least from time to time,
necessary to focus less on the “how” and more on the “what”.
The other reason is that answering this second question may
improve the response to the first.
NOTES
1
422 / 2001, s I 1 (2): „În sensul prezentei legi, monumentele istorice sunt bunuri
imobile, construcții și terenuri situate pe teritoriul României, semnificative pentru
istoria, cultura și civilizația națională și universală [sic].” “With regard to this
law, historical monuments are properties, buildings and sites in Romania, that
are significant for the national history, culture and civilisation and for those of
humankind.”
2
Enforced as a decree signed by the minister of culture. The current one is known
as 2260 / 2008 (in spite of the following updates).
3
Auth. transl. 2260 /2008, s III 7 (2): „Clasarea unui imobil se realizează în
baza următoarelor criterii: a) criteriul vechimii; b) criteriul referitor la valoarea
arhitecturală, artistică și urbanistică; c) criteriul referitor la frecvență (raritate și
unicitate); d) criteriul referitor la valoarea memorial-simbolică.”
4
All these value ranges are enforced as such by 2260 / 2008.
5
A time limit as a compulsory condition for listing is not necessarily a concept
accepted that easy, a fact clearly indicated by the discussions within the workshop
of the European Association for Architectural Education called “Conservation
/ Regeneration: the Modernist Neighbourhood”, held in Bucharest, in autumn
2011, and suggested by some conclusions of the working group dealing with the
theoretical and methodological issues (Derer 2013, p.125).
6
Jokilehto 2005, p. 7 (and, by far, not only).
7
The interest for antique items was vivid in Transylvania already at the beginning
of the 19th century, a fact proved by the research of Johann Michael Ackner
(Wollmann 1982, p. 11, as well as pp. 30-164), while Ludwig Reißenberger
was studying medieval buildings (Frodl, p. 105 and 107). Simultaneously, in
Wallachia, the inventory completed in 1832 seems to have favoured age as
selection criterion (Moldovan 2013, p. 115). The interest for old(est) edifices was
also present in Moldavia where, already by 1866 Josef Hlavka had thoroughly
investigated the local medieval religious edifices, a topic resumed at the turn of
the century towards the next by Karl Romstorfer who even used its principles in
designs of modern churches (Derer 2008, p. 104).
8
Greceanu 1990, p. 59.
9
Due to those political changes, the preservation of cultural heritage in Romania
has known a new beginning (even if the development since did not prove to be
one of the best).
10
Curinschi (coord.) 1976
11
Cristea & Sandu & Popescu-Criveanu & Voiculescu 1977.
12
Auth. transl. 2260 / 2008, s III 8 (2): „Evaluarea în baza criteriului vechimii este
ponderată de autenticitatea concepției, materialelor și procedeelor de construcție
și a amplasamentului, invers proporțional cu vechimea imobilului.” Authenticity
in workmanship (Fielden & Jokilehto 1993, p. 17) is missing, the concept of
“authenticity” itself is neither defined, nor connected to the issue consisting in
the credibility of the information source (ICOMOS 1994).
13
With regard to the integrity concept (UNESCO 2005), as well as to more recent
developments (as, for instance, those related to the Nara+20 Document or those
related to the freshly revived discussions on reconstruction).
14
Of (too) many encountered by the author, as a member of the Cultural Heritage
Records Section of the National Commission for Historical Monuments, cases
that are all protected (as expected) for reasons regarding confidentiality and the
copyright (including by means of a specific written agreement), until the given
procedure is ended.
15
Mucenic 2005, pp. 13-14, respectively 14-15. It may be of interest to notice
that the 2005 study considers the cellar vaulting to be obsolete with regard to
the assumed period of constructions (1883), without even mentioning another
possible hypothesis i.e. the one supposing that the cellar is an older structure
integrated in the 1883 erected main building of Mihail Suțu.
16
The author of the 2009 report is an architect, while the 2005 research was
carried out by an art historian.
17
Sion 2009, pp. 2-3, respective p 2.
18
Derer et alii 2016.
19
Auth. transl. 2260 / 2008, s III 9: „Criteriul referitor la valoarea arhitecturală,
artistică și urbanistică are drept scop stabilirea valorii imobilului din punct de
vedere estetic, funcțional și tehnic.” Obvious, at least the concept “aesthetic
value” requires a discussion that exceeds this article.
20
See footnote 9.
21
LMI 1992, p. 136.
22
By that time identified as a customs building.
23
Named, by that time, “House Slătineanu”, for this family was related (also) to
the Arion family.
24
A copy of which is owned by the author.
25
Derer et alii 2016.
26
This information was offered by Romeo Constantin Gheorghiță who not only
lives at 12 Nicolae Iorga street but is himself an artist.
27
As the Artists’ National Union used to have, until 2008, its headquarters in 21
Nicolae Iorga street, it may also be that two different experts have entered the
same property twice, once as “House Slătineanu” (today “House Arion”, see
footnote 23) and the second time as the mentioned headquarters. The double
may have been noticed and, consequently, one position was crossed out. Of
course, according to this (other) scenario, in 1992 there was no intent to list the
property in 12A Nicolae Iorga.
28
As a matter of fact, the 1992 List of Historical Monuments – the first not
communist one (see footnote 9) – was completed without detailed studies,
as, after the regime change, it was crucial to have, as soon as possible, a list
reflecting more accurate the cultural heritage in Romania that the one before,
enforced in 1955 and severely influenced by politics. The latter did comprise only
4.345 cultural monuments for the whole country (LMC 1955, pages 11, 140, 163
and 190), while the emergency list completed in 1992 included around 18.500
historical monuments, meaning 23.697 objects (Sandu 2006, p. 191).
29
Even if Mihail Suțu may be not that renowned, he is, nevertheless, the member
of a well-known family, in both former Romanian princely states, Walachia and
Moldavia.
30
PUZ ZCP 2000.
31
The information on the status with regard to the protected areas in Bucharest,
as well as its interpretation are based upon Derer et alii 2016.
32
PUZ ZCP 2000, protected areas number 29 and 16.
33
Auth. transl. Mucenic 2005, page 2 for the research objectives and 17 for the
conclusion – „Concluzie: Credem că imobilul din strada Nicolae Iorga nr.12A
«Casa Mihail Suțu» nu întrunește suficiente calități arhitecturale, urbanistice
sau memorial care să justifice clasarea sa ca monument istoric [sic] clădirea
aparținând fondului construit comun al orașului.”.
34
The documents requested by law for any demolishing permit had been
submitted at the Bucharest local decentralised service of the Ministry of Culture
in Bucharest, in November 2008, and extended with the design for the replacing
building, in January 2009, only to be rejected the same month, by the Regional
Commission for Historical Monuments. Both the owner and the local authority (!)
171
objected to this decision, one reason why the file reached the Cultural Heritage
Records Section of the National Commission for Historical Monuments on the
16th of April 2009. These (other) experts did suggest that the property might be
valuable enough to be listed and, consequently, the National Cultural Heritage
Institute was commissioned with the given (counter)expertise.
35
Auth. transl. Mucenic 2005-2008 non vidi, apud Sion 2009, pp.1-2: „construcția
ar putea fi înlocuită parțial sau total; pivnița, datorită prezenței bolților, este
o soluție arhitecturală valoroasă care ar putea fi revalorificată; […] în cazul
proiectării unei construcții noi, aceasta s-ar subordona monumentelor istorice în
raza cărora se află (casele Grădișteanu, Pillat, Krețulescu) … .”
36
Historical monument code B-II-m-B-20977, LMI 2015, p. 611. The ministerial
order for its listing was enforced on the 10th of August 2010, by being published,
according to the law, in the official organ of the Romanian government
(http://www.avocatnet.ro/content/articles/id_20636/Monitorul_Oficial_
Partea_I_Nr._549_550_551_si_552_-_5_august_2010.html or http://www.cdep.
ro/pls/legis/legis_pck.lista_mof?idp=20159 (accessed on the 17th of July 2016).
37
Derer et alii 2016.
38
As a matter of fact, one of these two ordinary buildings may be one of the
oldest still standing and, consequently, may belong to a stage in history when this
part of the city was not that “noble” as it became only towards the end of the
19th century (as the representative edifices prove).
39
Auth. transl. Mucenic 2005, p. 17 (see footnote 33).
40
Derer et alii 2016.
41
2260 / 2008 s III 11 (2).
42
Auth. transl. Mucenic 2005, pp. 16-17; „Imobilul Suțu are valoare memorială
prin personalitatea celui ce l-a locuit o perioadă însemnată … .” The 2005 study
ignores the fact that the building was designed at order for Mihail Suțu himself.
43
Sion 2009, p. 4.
44
Derer et alii 2016, pp. 4-5.
45
LMI 1992, respectively LMI 2004, County Ialomița, pp. 15-16, codes IL-II-
m-B-14163, IL-II-m-B-14164, respectively IL-II-m-B-14165.
46
LMI 2010, p. 1506, same codes.
47
LMI 2015, p. 1606, codes IL-II-m-B-14164, respectively IL-II-m-B-14165. The
author has been involved only in the 2008 battle for the mill in Țăndărei, when
the first unfortunate decision was fell i.e. to keep within the List of Historical
Monuments only two facades
48
For details see footnote 28
 THE BEGINNINGS OF MODERN PRACTICES OF CONSERVATION OF THE BUILT HERITAGE IN 19TH CENTURY
ROMANIA: THE INVOLVEMENT OF FOREIGN ARCHITECTS
Horia MOLDOVAN
172
In Wallachia and Moldavia1, the first attempts to preserve and
maintain what would later be known as “historic monuments”
date from the 17th century and continued throughout the 18th
century, during the reigns of the Phanariots. Such endeavors were,
however, limited to the small circles of the elite and were varied
both in their approach and their results. They focused mainly on
repairing, extending and, quite often, altering old buildings, out
of a feeling of continuity and with the aim of adapting them to
immediate functional needs, thereby prolonging their existence.
In the first decades of the 19th century, concern for the historical
heritage shrank considerably, and the few measures taken against
destruction of old buildings were motivated by considerations
connected to usefulness or representativeness.
Interest in history, mainly viewed from the practical standpoint of
its ability to consolidate the national idea and national cohesion2,
became more visible after 1830. The recourse to the past selected,
in this early phase of Romanian modernity, those monuments that
were historically crucial and capable of arousing patriotic feelings.
In the text of the Organic Regulations3 a series of pragmatic rather
than dogmatic measures are laid out, which demanded that
historical architecture should be maintained and even capitalized
upon4. Gheorghe Bibescu (1842-1848) was the first ruler to raise
the issue of the shortage of professionals with the technical
training to be able to restore old architecture5. In this context, at
the end of May 1844, at the suggestion of Vladimir Blaremberg6,
supervision of work on the mediaeval monasteries of Wallachia
was entrusted to the Swiss Johann Schlatter7 (1808-1865), who
was appointed “monastic architect”8. While Schlatter conducted
and took responsibility for the projects, they were put into
application with the help of his collaborators, and the monasteries’
abbots were also involved in the supervision of the works and
administration of the finances. The position of “monastery
architect” was established in Wallachia (and later in Moldavia) in
the same period in which the first institutions for the protection
and restoration of historic architecture appeared in Western
Europe. At the current stage of research, it is difficult to determine
which of the western models influenced developments in
Wallachia. Schlatter’s status, duties, and, above all, practical results
were more often different from those of the French “inspectors”
(Inspecteur des monuments historiques) or German “conservators”
(Konservator der Kunstdenkmäler), and his interventions differed
from what was understood by restoration at that time. Although
in numerous situations “restoration” denoted the rebuilding of a
monument in a form often different from the original, there were
also situations in which Schlatter can be thanked for saving major
works of architecture. A significant example is that of the church
of the Stavropoleos Inn in Bucharest, whose abbot had requested
that the “monastery architect” demolish and rebuild it9. A leading
figure in matters concerning mediaeval church and monastic
architecture, Schlatter was not the only one to have intervened
in the architectural heritage. In many other situations, other
architects of foreign origin were involved in such projects: the
Catalan Xavier Villacrosse at the Church of St George in Bucharest
(finished in 1855), the Dalmatian Luigi Lipizer at the Kretzulescu
Church in Bucharest (1859-60) and the Crețulescu Church in
Târgovişte (c. 1863) etc.
Schlatter’s activity as “monastery architect” responsible for
supervising repairs and rebuilding work on the old monasteries
of Wallachia commenced in 1844, and by 1865 he had dealt
with dozens of monastic complexes and churches. In some cases
minimal measures were taken to save buildings from falling into
ruin, and in other cases Schlatter and his co-workers went as far
as to demolish and reconstruct buildings in a form completely
different from the original, due in large part to the commission
he had received. The building work begun during the reign of
Gheorghe Bibescu was mostly completed in the second half of
the 19th century, towards the end of the reign of Barbu Dimitrie
Ştirbei (1849-1853, 1854-1856), who took decisive action to
preserve or reorient the aims of the initial projects. From the
archive documents regarding the numerous works in which Johann
Schlatter was involved it is possible to reconstruct in broad outlines
the manner in which they were developed. Information about the
drafting of plans, visits to sites around the country, supervision
of “conductors” (heads of building site, who also had direct
responsibility for the designing of the plans), collaboration with
other architects and institutions of state, and specific instructions
on the organization of building works provides a picture of one
facet of the architectural practice in mid-nineteenth-century
Wallachia.
In Schlatter’s activity as “monastery architect”, there is a single
example of the complete reconstruction of a monastery: Bistrița in
Vâlcea County. The structures that today make up the monastery
complex (except the hospital chapel and the alterations carried
out in the 20th century) are the result of the rebuilding work
undertaken during the reigns of Gheorghe Bibescu and Barbu
Ştirbei between 1846 and 1856, whose purpose was to transform it
into a summer princely residence. In the secondary written sources
references to Bistrița in its reconstructed form are inconsistent,
sometimes lack firm arguments, and judge the complex
subjectively, outside its context, as the monastery is included
in lists of those historic Wallachian monuments “mutilated” by
foreign architects active in the Principality at the beginning of the
modern period. The plans were drawn up by Iulius Fraywald under
the supervision of Johann Schlatter. Nevertheless, after building
work was resumed at the beginning of the reign of Barbu Știrbei,
the written reports regarding the Bistrița site rarely mention
1. The Church of the Bistriţa
monastery, Vâlcea County
Photo credit: H. Moldovan
2. Chindia Tower, part of the Princely
Court at Târgovişte, at the beginning
of the 20th century (postal card)
173
Fraywald, who continued to deal with additions to and adaptations
of the plans. On the other hand, the correspondence and reports
concentrate on the activity of Schlatter and his collaborator Karl
Benisch10, who were both involved in creating the new buildings
as well as in supervising the building site. Work on the buildings
in the precincts was completed a year after the consecration of
the church, in 1855, when painter Gheorghe Tattarescu began
work on the murals. For contemporaries, Bistrița was a major
achievement, and its architecture, which differed from the local
architecture, aroused admiration. The monastic complex at Bistrița
(fig. 1) is a unique illustration of the conception and realization of
an architectural program that combines two functions of equal
importance: the monastery and the summer residence, both
subordinate to the complex’s representative historical character.
Besides the Bistrița complex, another monument that was
completely rebuilt, in a gothic revival manner, was the Chindia
Tower (fig.2), part of the Princely Court at Târgovişte.
A second category, with numerous examples, includes buildings
whose phases prior to interventions in the 19th century have
been only partly preserved. Following building work in the mid-
nineteenth century, the monasteries of Tismana (Gorj County),
Arnota (Vâlcea County), Dealu (Dâmboviţa County), Mărcuța (near
Bucharest), Antim (Bucharest) and Cozia (Vâlcea County) preserve
only fragments of their mediaeval fabric. Likewise, the churches
of the Old Court and Radu-Vodă Monastery in Bucharest and the
church of Negoești Monastery (Călăraşi County) still preserve a part
of the alterations made during works supervised by Schlatter.
With numerous interruptions, work at the Tismana Monastery
(fig.3) (Gorj County) lasted from 1845 to 1856, and the complex
was partly rebuilt in a Rundbogenstil manner in order to house a
temporary residence for the prince, to which spaces that would
serve as a prison were also added. Whereas at Tismana the prison
 3. Tismana monastery at the end
of the 19th century (D.I.T.A.C.P.-
U.A.U.I.M., „Al. Tzigara-Samurcaş”
Collection)
174
was of secondary importance, the alterations to the Arnota
Monastery (fig.4) aimed to transform the whole complex into a
place of detention for political opponents.
During the period of the Organic Regulations, in Wallachia there
were six main prisons (Bucharest, Giurgiu, Brăila, Craiova, the
Telega salt works, which were part of the Mărgineni monastic
estate in Prahova, and the Vâlcea salt mines) and fourteen county
prisons, as well as places of detention in monasteries “specially
organized” for this purpose. The salt mines, destined only for
male prisoners, were generally reserved for those serving life
sentences. The other prisons housed prisoners serving shorter
sentences. While the main prisons were financed from the state
budget, the county prisons were administered using the incomes
of the magistracy, with a large part of the money coming from
work performed by the prisoners. The reforms of the Organic
Regulations period laid down regulations for both kinds of prisons.
In 1841, state engineer Vladimir Blaremberg, appointed Dvornik
of Prisons, drew up a “model plan”. The drawings, accompanied
by written specifications, did not include the details necessary for
it to be put into practice, since it is rather a sketch by an amateur
architect. Even if Blaremberg’s ideas remained without result, they
laid the groundwork for the creation of prison cellblocks, a model
that had been followed in western architecture since the beginning
of the 18th century. In the context of the slow modernization of
the penitentiary system in Wallachia, the prison designed and
built at Arnota Monastery inaugurated an architectural program
that was to come to maturity in Romania in the late nineteenth
and early 20th century. What is particularly striking about the
reconstruction work is the originality of the functional solution.
Arnota was the first prison with individual cells to be built in
Wallachia, making use of a compact, self-contained plan, more
than half a century after the use of prisons with radial cells became
widespread in Western Europe. In spite of the sinister reputation
of Arnota in the imagination of the time, no prisoners were ever
locked up in Ştirbei’s modern penitentiary, and the building was
eventually abandoned and left to fall into ruin.
Among the projects supervised by Schlatter, one distinct group
is formed by the monastery complexes (with either religious
or lay function) and churches where his interventions were
insignificant (repairs, minor alterations) or remained in the
drawing board phase. The relevance of these case studies is minor
in relation to the general evolution of architecture in Wallachia,
but they do offer significant information from the point of view
of the current directions and practices in architecture at the
time, the organization of building sites, and the juridical and
institutional contexts of the period of the transition to modernity.
Likewise, examination of these examples allows a reconstruction
of sequences that are important, sometimes essential, in
understanding the evolution of the buildings in question. The
critics have judged Schlatter’s unimplemented plans from a
dual perspective. In some cases, the fact that they were not
implemented has been considered to be beneficial, as the historic
monuments in question have been preserved in their original,
unaltered state, while in other, more numerous cases, the absence
of concrete measures led to significant and irreversible losses,
examples in this respect being the late 19th century evolution
of the monastic complexes at Snagov (Ilfov County) and the Old
Metropolitan Church in Târgovişte (Dâmboviţa County).
The attention given to the historical architectural heritage enters a
new stage during the reign of Alexandru Ioan Cuza (1859-1866)11,
the reforms he promoted – of which the secularization of the
monasteries, adopted as a law at the end of 186312 – having direct
implications for the intentions and concrete actions of protection.
In May 1863, Cuza signed the decree of beginning the restoration
4. Arnota monastery, at the end of
the 19th century (From Alexandru
Antoniu, Album general al României,
Partea I, Dresda şi Berlin, Stengel &
Co., 1901)
175
works of the bishopric church in Curtea de Argeş (fig 5, 6, 7)13. In
the same year, Gaetano Burelly14 was appointed by ministerial
order to perform the preliminary research, but his involvement
had no consistent results, the works being postponed until 1870.
In the same year 1864, by the “Antiquities Museum Regulation”,
Cuza approved the establishment of an “Archeological Committee”
led by General Mavros, which was responsible for “the good state
of national monuments of any kind (...) and their preservation
and restoration”15. The activity of the committee, apart from an
impetus given to archaeological research, has remained without
any trace.
In April 1874, Prince Carol I16 signed the decree appointing the
members of the “Honorific Commission of Historic Monuments”:
M. Kogălniceanu, Al. Odobescu, C. Bolliac, Al. Orăscu, D. Berindei,
Dim. Sturza, Theodor Rosetti and C. I. Stăncescu. A few months
later the Minister Titu Maiorescu, was sending a circular letter to
secular and religious local administrations to inform them that “(…)
the government, preoccupied with the conservation of historic
and artistic monuments which we have in the country, assembled
a commission whom it assigned the task to ascertain, register and
conserve, to the extent that will be possible, these monuments”17.
Maiorescu was asking local representatives to contribute to the
creation of the “Register of public monuments” by reporting the
existing cultural values in the country18. “The Commission for Public
Monuments” was supposed to operate based on a regulation
which provided in detail its status and duties19. Nevertheless, the
immediate results of these legal acts were not very significant in
the Principalities, the spotlight being still on the construction site
opened at the Curtea de Argeş bishopric church, where a new
contract was signed with architect Filip Montoreanu20 in 1870.
Despite the assumed duties, Montoreanu didn’t manage to start
the restoration. Before 1874, the only accomplished intervention

176
was that of sculptor Karl Storck at the stone plinth of the church.
Following a delay in the achievement of Montoreanuʼs project, the
works were again postponed and the architect lost the contract.
When the position of “chief architect” became vacant, the
Romanian government, through Minister Titu Maiorescu,
approached French architect Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc,
an older acquaintance of prince Carol I. Viollet-le-Duc sent to
Curtea de Argeș his collaborator Anatole de Baudot, former
vice-president of the Commission des Monuments Historiques
in France. Returning to France, after a thorough examination of
the monument, de Baudot and Viollet-le-Duc prepared a detailed
report on the building condition and the necessary restoration
interventions, submitted to the authorities in Bucharest at the
end of 187421. The recommendations for the faithful restoration
according to the original shape included three categories of works:
consolidation and ensuring the good condition of the building’s
preserved elements; recomposing the parts which had been fully
destroyed, based on unquestionable evidence; and finally, the
furniture and the exterior and interior decorations.22 Considering
that none of them was able to become directly involved, Viollet-
le-Duc recommended to Titu Maiorescu his “student and friend” ,
architect Lecomte.
Émile-André Lecomte du Noüyʼs name24 occurs frequently in the
Romanian architectural historiography, becoming famous for his
involvement in the restoration or reconstruction works of some
of the most representative Romanian medieval monuments25, as
well as in new projects26. Despite the large number of controversies
generated by his work – most of which was conducted under the
patronage of Carol I – and the abundant documentary evidence
available, one century after the architect’s death the Romanian
architectural history still lacks a detailed and objective research of
his activity that covered four decades (1875-1914). The drawings,
surveys and plans of the projects or photographs donated by
Lecomte du Noüy to the Royal Foundations, selectively published
in articles or synthesis papers, continue to be a very valuable
material, from at least three points of view: the documentation of
several of the most important old Romanian architectural works,
the understanding of the inception of modern restoration practices
at the turn of the 20th century and, last but not least, the role that
his reconstruction works played in the modern development of
Romanian Orthodox religious architecture.
The construction works at Curtea de Argeş started again under
the coordination of Lecomte du Noüy in 1875, and the first
reports indicated that Lecomte du Noüyʼs intervention plans
were diverging from the path outlined by his masters. Although
the deadline for completing the restoration works was in 2 years,
in 1877 the minister proposed an extension of the agreement
with the French architect27. At the beginning of 1878, architects
Alexandru Orăscu and Karl Benisch appreciated that about 2/3 of
the work had been completed, and that it had been performed
“soundly and competently”28. Despite some brutal gestures (such
as the complete demolition of the monastery precincts or the
reconstruction of the little pavilion – or “canthar”29 – in front of
the church entrance in a new shape, with no connection to the
original), during the course of the works the central administration
representatives were mostly concerned with quantitative aspects
(the necessary funding and the committed deadlines) rather than
with qualitative ones. Although the building founded by Neagoe
Basarab30 and consecrated in 1517 was preserved to a large extent,
it was also subject to substantial modifications and additions. The
dome above the nave, damaged during the earthquakes in 1802
and 1838, had to be rebuilt. Lecomte du Noüy recomposed the
upper part of the western side of the drum, restored the exterior
sculpture and replaced the stone jambs of the windows31. Although
the dome base was still solid, interventions were made upon the
discharge structure, with the squinches above the nave being built
in a slightly different shape32. The central dome above the nave
was also only partly preserved, with two sides of the drum being
rebuilt33, by replacing only the damaged stone parts. The eroded
sculptures were also “refreshed by chiseling”34. The small domes in
the south-western and north-western corners of the narthex were
also rebuilt, as the fine original structure, affected by earthquakes,
did not allow for superficial repairs. Although Viollet-le-Duc had
recommended a lead roof gutter, Lecomte du Noüy modified the
upper cornice by adding a draining system carved in stone, richly
decorated, provided with gargoyles which discharged water above
a second cornice, again made of stone, replacing the old lead
cover. The original lead cover, fixed upon a thick layer of compact
soil, had been displaced by earthquakes. Lecomte du Noüy
completely replaced the old roof structure and cover and, for the
new one added the metal ornaments, the presence of which, not
confirmed by documents or other evidence, had been approved,
as per his notes, by members of the Romanian Academy. The
need to “restore” the decoration at the western twisted domes
cornices was one of the items included in the report prepared by
the commission established in 1874. Despite any factual evidence
On the previous page::
5. Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc,
Anatole de Baudot: Restoration
solutions for various parts of the
bishopric church at Curtea de Argeş
(1874) – the upper metal roof gutter,
the decorative rampant and the
ditches of the platform on which
the church was built, as well as
a proposal for covering the main
access area (N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I.
collection, file 342/1875)
On the current page:
6, 7. The bishopric church at
Curtea de Argeş before and after 177
the restoration works (D.I.T.A.C.P.
/ U.A.U.I.M., „Lecomte du Noüy”
Collection)
of the presence of decorative details, the text mentioned that
“the small domes in front of the church also require this delicate
decorative element, which has certainly disappeared over time”35.
In the case of the small twisted domes, Lecomte du Noüy added
new ornaments, different from those existing at the cornices of the
narthex and nave dome, both having the lily flower as leitmotif.
The façade decorations were also altered. Some of the sculpted
stone disks above the blind arcade were replaced, the marble bars
between the lower register windows were replaced with new ones,
which raised criticism towards the French architect who “chiseled
the sculptures again and scraped the walls, a barbarian thing to
do!” and “painted the outer church walls in oil paint, an even more
barbarian thing to do”36. The lily flower motive was reused in the
reconstruction of the stone fence around the platform which the
church was built on. At the beginning of the restoration works
“some people still remembered” that fence, although “there were
not even traces left of it”37. Traces of the foundation had been
found during the excavation works around the church, as well as
about 50 sculpted flowers from the original parapet38, so their
recomposing was based on certain evidence.
In a report of 1879, Th. Aman, Th. Stefănescu, K. Storck and Al.
Săvulescu maintained that “the restorer should be the faithful slave

178
of the noble original concept, all the more so that each stone of
this monument testifies that its architect was an exquisite artist”39
and no innovation, no matter how slight, “should be allowed”40.
In 1880, however, the contracted works were accepted, “the
Commission in charge with acknowledging the performed works”
concluded that “Mr. Lecomte accomplished his task for the exterior
restoration and he could be issued a discharge document for
this”41.
To continue the works inside the building, the members of the
commission established by the Ministry of Religion and Public
Instruction believed that “the restoration should reproduce exactly
the old layout, style and decorations”42. Following the unsuccessful
search for a local artist capable of continuing the site works,
the ministry renewed the agreement with Lecomte du Noüy at
the beginning of 188143. Inside the church, the French architect
decided to remove what was left from the old frescoes, affected by
the recent fire in the winter of 1867, “replacing them with an oil
decoration, which is as expensive as it is fantastic and unsuitable”44.
In addition to removing the old frescoes, the interior pavement
was also replaced during the last stage of the works. In the absence
of the old furniture destroyed by the fire, the architect had full
freedom to imagine a new one, and the new objects made were
not exempt from the blame of the contemporaries who qualified
them as useless, “over decorated and of a doubtful taste”45. Upon
completion of the restoration, the total costs of the works carried
out in the interval 1875-86 were estimated at 1,501,000 lei46, which
is three times more than initially estimated47.
The condition of advanced decay of Neagoeʼs church as well as the
repeated hesitations and the lack of experience of those involved
in restoration projects (starting with 1863) would have certainly
resulted in irreversible losses, or perhaps even the complete ruin of
the monument, considered by Alexandru Odobescu “the main title
of glory of old Romanian art”48. Despite all its shortcomings, the
intervention led by Lecomte du Noüy may be considered without
any hesitation, the first restoration – in the modern sense of the
concept – of a Romanian monument.
One cannot say the same about the result of the works carried
out at the church of the Trei Ierarhi Monastery in Iaşi, regarded
by some historians as a second example of successful restoration,
together with the bishopric church in Curtea de Argeş. The urgent
need for repair works at the church and the monastery premises
was notified to the Ministry of Religion and Public Instruction
by the church caretaker, Bishop Iosif Bobulescu, in May 187849.
The Assembly of Deputies immediately approved financing for
a project drawn by a specialist. The ministry appointed for the
preliminary steps architect Carol Kugler50 . More than 3 years after
the beginning of the discussions between the clergymen in charge
and the authorities, minister V. A. Urechia, based on approval by
the Council of Ministers, appointed Lecomte du Noüy to prepare a
preliminary report and then to initiate the restoration works.
Upon the commencement of the works Lecomte du Noüy
appointed Nicolae Gabrielescu, his collaborator at Curtea de Argeş,
as site foreman and he committed through the contract to also
concern himself, in addition to the intervention to the church
itself, with the statue of the founder, Prince Vasile Lupu (1634-
1653) and to embellish the church surroundings by demolishing
the old buildings of the monastery. It was proposed from the
beginning to keep only one building (fully refurbished) from the old
monastery complex – the refectory (“the Gothic hall”)51. Despite
the criticism launched in 1879 on the progress of the restoration
works at Curtea de Argeş52, no conditions were imposed to the
French architect at Trei Ierarhi: “Mr. Lecomte will have full freedom
of action regarding the artistic performance of the restoration
works”53. In the summer of 1882, following the thorough
examination of the building, Lecomte du Noüy sent a report to
the minister presenting the condition of damages and alterations
suffered by the building during the years: replacement of the roof,
changes at the upper parts of the buttresses, substantial alteration
of the domes bases “which are not a reason of praise for those
who attacked such monuments”54. The building was cracked from
the base to the cornice as a result of earthquakes, while fires
had affected the sculpted decoration. During the following years
research continued, bringing out “difficulties and surprises which
wholly changed the initial estimation of the works”55, worsening
the problems which required a solution.
As the church continued to be used, the intervention works
started in the domes area with the rebuilding of the one above
the narthex. The old dome was demolished down to the level of
the support arches and was rebuilt in a shape considered by the
French architect to be true to the original. The collapse hazard
made Lecomte du Noüy rebuild the columns, arches and the upper
separation wall between the nave and the narthex56, with the
8, 9. É-A. Lecomte du Noüy (or his
collaborators): cross-section through
the Trei Ierarhi church before
and after the intervention works
(D.I.T.A.C.P. / U.A.U.I.M., “Lecomte du
Noüy” Collection)
179
roof structure being supported in the meantime by complicated
scaffolding. In addition, in the narthex, the two pairs of side niches
for the princely tombs weakened the stability of the northern
and southern walls, although located symmetrically under the
window spaces. It was decided to build “strong masonry” arches
above the alcoves, for consolidation and for rationalizing the load
distributions. In parallel with these works, it was also started to
dismantle the dome above the nave, which required ceasing the
religious service. Surprisingly, although aware of the importance
of preserving the old building’s authenticity, at the beginning of
1885 Lecomte du Noüy wrote to the minister describing the radical
decisions he had been and would be forced to make: “Instead
of limiting our work to repairing the façades by re-chiseling the
sculptures and replacing damaged parts, we had to rebuild again
most of the sculpture and masonry. (...) It was not possible to reuse
any part of the two domes, nor of the upper part of the church
body and the main cornice. All these parts which have to be rebuilt
again stand for half of the outer surface of the monument”57.
 10. South-east view of Sf. Dumitru
church in Craiova, before demolition
(D.I.T.A.C.P. / U.A.U.I.M., „Al. Tzigara-
Samurcaş” Collection)
180
The text also mentioned the possibility to return to the assumed
polychromy of the outer decoration, sustained by tradition
although lacking clear evidence. Although the idea of gilding and
coloring the façades was abandoned, the faithful restoration of the
complicated sculpted ornaments is surprising.
Further works revealed many other issues which required more or
less substantial rebuilding, more or less true to the original. At the
beginning of year 1887, when the construction works were getting
close to completion, Lecomte du Noüy requested a new budget
extension to justify the large amounts already spent and stated in
the report to the Ministry of Religion and Public Instruction that
“to ensure a solid work we were gradually forced to completely
rebuild the monument from the foundation to the top. The work
was extremely difficult, particularly under the tower above the
narthex where the whole masonry was rebuilt, replacing the old
building with a new one.”58 Without questioning in any way the
abandonment of original elements, Lecomte du Noüy believed
that building a 30 m high solid church, covered with sculpted
ornaments from the base to the upper part of the domes, for the
amount of 623,000 lei, was a worthy performance. The interior
rearrangement and redecoration works continued after 1900 and
the church was consecrated again in the presence of the royal
family in October 190459.
Whereas in the case of the bishopric church at Curtea de Argeş
we can speak about a restoration with many alterations brought
about by the subjective approach of Lecomte du Noüy, at Trei
Ierarhi (fig. 8, 9) the project ended in a reconstruction, from many
points of view an idealized one, of the church of Vasile Lupu. The
differences in architectural concept between what Lecomte du
Noüy found and what he left behind were identified by G. Balş60
11. South-east view of Sf.
Dumitru church in Craiova, after
reconstruction (D.I.T.A.C.P. /
U.A.U.I.M., “Lecomte du Noüy”
Collection)
181
based on a comparative analysis between the built edifice and
the survey of the original, prepared by architect Ştefan Emilian61,
accompanied by the descriptive text of S. Mureşianu62. Thus, the
main transformations consisted of in heightening the domes above
the narthex and the nave, reconstructing the exonarthex vaults at a
lower level, modifying the nave vaulting and adding new decorative
elements, reducing the height of corner buttresses and raising
those neighboring the side apses of the nave (thus interrupting
the median twisted moldings). It is difficult to appreciate today to
what extent the old church building could have been preserved,
even in part. The demolition and gradual reconstruction were
however performed over more than 5 years, based on the approval
and under the observation of secular and religious authorities; the
justified blames were those related to the constant tendency of
the French architect to correct and complete the architecture and
decorations based on criteria related solely to his subjective taste
and understanding.
Some protests of Romanian architects and elites started to
arise even during the development of construction works.
Nevertheless, the interest and concern of the royal house for the
works led by Lecomte du Noüy allowed the continuation of the
construction works, while the financial investigations regarding
the huge amounts spent had no consequences. Actually, part
of the amounts for the reconstruction works were allocated by
Carol I directly from the “royal cassette”; this kind of subsidies
started on the occasion of the break of the financial crisis of 1901
and continued for eight years63. This was justified by the King’s
intention to add a new significance to some of the key monuments
of medieval history – that of the new monarchy64. Showing no
resentments for the alteration of the authenticity of old buildings,
immediately after the re-consecration of the bishopric church at
Curtea de Argeş, in his speech at the parliament, the King said:
 “The reconstruction of old monuments was a project which has
always enjoyed my highest interest. I happily applauded the day
when the beautiful Argeş bishopric cathedral was rendered back
to religious service, restored in splendor and beauty. We will soon
celebrate the consecration of the metropolitan church in Craiova
and the Trei Ierarhi church in Iaşi. A nation which respects its
ancestral monuments and particularly those of Christian piety and
belief has a secure and firm future.”65
The complete demolition of some important monuments raised
heavy blames from the Romanian cultural elite, as well as from
some of the most important professionals of the time. Virulent
criticism supported by thoroughgoing argumentations addressed
182 directly to Lecomte du Noüy has even been published by his close
collaborators, although they had often expressed their opinion
in favor of demolition. Posterity retained too little from the
conservative intentions of Lecomte du Noüy, just as it pardoned
too easily the role of the other actors involved in the construction
works led by the French architect. For instance, in the autumn of
1884, in his letter addressed to the French architect, the minister
of religion and public instruction G. Tocilescu did not exclude the
demolition and reconstruction of Sf. Dumitru Church in Craiova
(fig 10, 11), where no religious service had been held for 40 years
because of its ruined condition66. Nevertheless, when commenting
on the “unfortunate transformations” undergone by the church in
the past, Lecomte du Noüy expressed his confidence that he would
be able to restore the monument to its “original physiognomy”,
claiming that a reconstruction was not necessary, despite its
advanced state of decay67.
Despite the enthusiasm shown by the King upon completion of the
works at Curtea de Argeş, Nicolae Gabrielescu, former inspector
of the restoration works coordinated by Lecomte du Noüy, did not
hesitate to express his contrary opinions to those of his superior
regarding the restoration of the Golia Tower in Iași. Considering
the intervention far too difficult, Lecomte du Noüy had avoided
to give a solution for that edifice which was in an advanced state
of decay and subject to the risk of collapse68. The ministry was
consequently deciding for the demolition. Gabrielescu intervened
however, stating in a report that “no matter how damaged a
building might be solutions can be found to consolidate and
preserve it.” The text suggests his obvious opposition towards
the attitude of Lecomte du Noüy in coordinating interventions to
old monuments: “I maintained that an old building should not be
demolished, regardless of its condition, because the destruction
of a historical relic is an irretrievable misdeed. (…) We are tied
to these monuments by precious memories; they are an unseen
evidence of past centuries of a nation and a source of studies for
artists in the future.”69 The divergences between the two continued
to deepen, with Gabrielescu having a doubtful attitude. Despite
his straightforward expression of opinions regarding the obligation
to preserve the Golia Tower, his position was completely different
in some of the projects on which he collaborated with Lecomte
du Noüy. In Craiova he believed that Sf. Dumitru Church “is too
decayed; and it is almost impossible to keep at least one brick of
it; it should be completely rebuilt”70. In a letter sent to Lecomte
du Noüy in 1888, he expressed similar considerations as to what
could be done at the belfry tower at Trei Ierarhi in Iași: “Pour le
clocher, j’ai examiné de près; j’ai monté pour me rendre compte
de l’état où il est et il y aura plus d’avantage a le démolir, surtout
qu’il faut refaire tout le bas, un travail soigneux et délicat”71. It
can be assumed that Gabrielescuʼs ambiguous position drew the
attention of Lecomte du Noüy; in a report written in the summer
of 1889 he requested, among other measures proposed to reduce
the costs associated with the restoration of the Trei Ierarhi church,
the dismissal of inspector Gabrielescu, whose role would no longer
be justified while the restoration works was coming to an end72.
The proposal is accepted by the ministry and Gabrielescu is fired
from his position. He got immediately involved in the restoration of
Golia Tower (where the restoration works was completed in 1906),
and published in Iaşi the brochure called Privire generală asupra
monumentelor naţionale şi mijlocul de a împiedica distrugerea
lor73. Although not mentioning any name, the text was directly
targeting the activity of Lecomte du Noüy: “people should once
and for all abandon the idea that they achieved anything, when
making a monument more beautiful than it was. (...) Such criminal
pleasures at the expense of the monuments and the country
should be prevented. It is ridiculous to see someone who, not
being able to achieve new beautiful things, wants to embellish old
ones.” Considering the evidence certifying that Gabrielescu was
directly involved in the demolition of some old buildings as well
as his latent conflict with Lecomte du Noüy, with whom he had
worked together for more than a decade (1876-89), his case can
only be judged with some reserves.
The attacks from close collaborators continued with Memoriu
pentru luminarea publicului în afacerea restaurărilor de
monumente istorice74, published by Gabrielescu, and the articles
Restaurarea monumentelor istorice în străinătate şi în România75
and Ce este o restaurare. Cu privire la Biserica Sf. Nicolae din
Iaşi76, both written by George Sterian.77 Based on the principles of
restoration presented by Viollet-le-Duc in Dictionnaire raisonné de
lʼarchitecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle (1854-1868), Sterian
challenged, on the one hand, the interventions led by Lecomte du
Noüy and, on the other hand, the decisions of those who validated
them. In the first article, focused on the examples of the bishopric
church in Curtea de Argeş and the Trei Ierarhi monastery in Iaşi,
Sterian started his case with the definition of “restoration” given
by the French master, recklessly construed by those who “altered
entire monuments under the pretext that the original structure of
the edifice they restored was defective (...) [invoking] the authority
of Viollet-le-Duc to cover their ignorance and cunning.”78 Sterian
mentioned the unjustified extension of restoration works and the
expenditure of extravagant amounts as compared to the initial
provisions of Viollet-le-Duc and de Baudot and openly criticized the
megalomania which governed the works at Argeş: “and in order
to satisfy our appetite for beautiful things and our exuberance
of new rich louts, we furnished the church with all sort of gilded
pieces, copied from all furniture styles in other countries.”79 His
considerations, some of which are justified, become somehow
pejorative, particularly in the subtle references to the churches
rebuilt from their foundations: “Following such criminal acts (with
reference to the restoration works at Curtea de Argeş and Iaşi),
another nation would have taken some rest; we however go on
tirelessly. Without realizing anything and proud of our first success,
we started to long for new and bigger successes along the path
of destruction. (...) We searched for all churches which, based on
their artistic value and historical interest, should be subject to our
restoration plots. We surrounded them with nice scaffolds and,
if this operation did not damage them sufficiently, we uncovered
them and left the vaults open, abandoned for 3 or 4 years
continuously, until they became just good enough for restoration;
then we demolished them so as to be able to rebuild them with
grandeur, altering them at our own will and building them different
from the original.”80
In the same year 1890, some of the most famous names of
Romanian architecture and arts signed a petition addressed
to the prime minister listing the errors of Lecomte du Noüyʼs
approach; they requested the application of the “Regulation of the
Commission for Public Monuments” approved by the King in 1874,
until a special law would be adopted, as well as the establishment
of an “Architectural-Archaeological Commission”, “consisting of
specialists in architecture and archaeology, to examine what has
been done till now and to study the way forward for the truthful
preservation of these noble relics of our past”81. Thus, the first
meeting of the “Honorific Commission for Public Monuments” was
held in April, according to the provisions of the 1874 regulation.
The minute of the meeting mentioned that the restoration works
of Lecomte du Noüy had become a “matter of national interest”82,
and for this reason it was proposed to appoint an “over-arbitration
to examine and give an opinion on these works, from an artistic
perspective”83. The architect who was supposed to judge what
had been achieved and how the existing construction sites should
continue should “not be involved in the criticisms and disputes
which arose in the country.”84
Upon Maiorescuʼs proposal, it was agreed during the meeting
to call Henri Révoil to Romania, a corresponding member of the
Institute de France, involved in the restoration of French historical
monuments.85 The objectivity of Révoilʼs opinions is doubtful,
considering that he stood up for the “erudite and skilled” Lecomte
du Noüy against the “undeserved and cunning” criticisms and he 183
brought forward again, tendentiously, the difference between
“conservation” and “restoration”. Thus conservation meant
“maintaining [the monument] in its current state, that is, giving
it to posterity in its current condition”, whereas restoration
involved “rendering it its original condition, that is, making it again
appropriate for its purpose”. In the light of this understanding of
restoration, the architect, “in the absence of reliable documents,
takes his inspiration first from what he sees and then from what he
can find in similar monuments. He should become well acquainted
with the idea of the artist who created the work and collect all
information justifying his innovations.”86 The presence of Révoil
and his report were publicly challenged, considering that “the
investigation was done in private, listening only to one party”, and
the result was considered “an act of complaisance”87, to which
Gabrielescu responded by a detailed critical analysis in the pages of
Analele arhitecturei of 1891.88
The century elapsed since the completion of Lecomte du Noüyʼs
construction works has gradually alleviated the fierceness with
which his contemporaries blamed the unwary sacrifice of valuable
medieval monuments to replace them with fanciful projects,
subjective interpretations of the Eastern Orthodox architecture.
Bringing forward again the reconstruction works performed
by Lecomte du Noüy as “restoration works”, Carmen Popescu
considered it legitimate that the French architect achieved
what Romanian architects had not managed to, lacking either
the opportunities or, rather, lacking resources: creating a new
architecture able to synthesize and to represent Romanian
Orthodoxy in modern times.89 Despite the disapprovals of his
contemporaries, the results of Lecomte du Noüyʼs construction and
restoration works in Târgovişte, Craiova and Iaşi had an undeniable
influence upon the further evolution of Romanian religious
architecture.
 As Schlatter before, one century after his death, Lecomte du Noüy designed by the Austrian architect Friedrich von Schmidt. In 1891 Benisch was one de Argeş, the church and refectory of the Trei Ierarhi Monastery and the Princely 65
Cuvântările, 1939, p. 444.
continues to be a controversial character. His work also remains of the founders of the Romanian Architects Society, whose vice-president was. Church of St. Nicolae in Iaşi, the old Metropolitan Church in Târgovişte and St. 66
Restaurarea,1890, p. 147.
11
Alexandru Ioan Cuza (1820-1873) was elected on the 5th of January 1859 prince Demetrius Church in Craiova. 67
Ibidem, p. 151.
just as controversial, so much discussed upon, but still lacking of Moldavia and on the 24th of January prince of Wallachia, becoming the first ruler 26
The work of Lecomte du Noüy included several new achievements: the Episcopal 68
Iftimi, Ichim, 2010, p. 202.
a comprehensive and thorough study, based on the archive of the Romanian United Principalities. Palace of Curtea de Argeş, the Chapel of the Holy Trinity of Ştirbei family in Craiova, 69
Ibidem, p. 203. The restoration of the Golia Tower was initiated by Gabrielescu in
material kept, rather than on the large number of opinions or 12
Bujoreanu, 1873: Decree No. 1251 din 15 September 1863, pp. 1796-1797. the Brătianu family chapel at Florica, the Bucharest School of Bridges and Roads 1889 and was completed in 1906.
interpretations, often jaundiced, mainly focused on his restoration
13
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 4. In 1860, at the initiative of the “K. K. committee in Vienna (with architect Marie Joseph Cassien Bernard) etc. 70
Révoil, 1890, pp. 38-39.
for the research and preservation of monuments”, a thorough study of the history 27
Restaurarea, 1890, pp. 64-65. 71
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 205, ref. 1. Letter dated on 12 December 1888.
and reconstruction works. Suspected of having purloined some and architecture of the monument, signed by Ludwig Reissenberger, was already 28
Ibidem, p. 65. 72
Ibidem, p. 211.
heritage values, criticized for his artistic ambitions for the sake published: “Die bischöfliche Klosterkirche bei Kurtea d’Argis in der Walachai” în 29
Călători, 1976, p. 167, ref. 40. 73
“Overview on national monuments and on the means to prevent their
of which he overrode invaluable monuments of the Romanian Jahrbuch der Central Commission zur Erforschung und Erhaltung der Baudenkmale, 30
Neagoe Basarab (c. 1459-1521), ruler of Wallachia from 1512 to 1521. destruction” in Analele arhitecturei 1890, pp. 148-152, 160-162.
medieval history, Lecomte du Noüy enjoyed however the appraisal Viena, 1860. The text was also re-edited in French on the occasion of the 1867 31
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 89. 74
Memoire for informing the public on the issue of historical monument
Universal Paris Exhibition (“L’Église du monastère Kurtea d’Argis en Valachie”, Viena, 32
Ionescu, 1940, p. 135. restoration.
of some of the most prominent persons of the time; the study Imprimerie de Charles Gerold fils, 1867) and also in Romanian in the last decade of 33
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 89. 75
The restoration of historical monuments abroad and in Romania.
of his activity is thus a requisite for completing the perspective the 19th century (Analele arhitecturei şi ale artelor cu care se leagă, 1890). 34
Ibidem, p. 58. 76
What is restoration. With a focus on Sf. Nicolae church in Iaşi.
184 of a history upon which the 19th century left a deep and often 14
Antonio Gaetano Burelly (c. 1820-1896) was a Romanian architect of Italian 35
Ibidem, p. 24. 77
Sterian, 1890, pp. 50-58 and 98-101. 185
beneficial footprint. origin, who studied architecture at the École des Beaux-Arts (2è classe). Most of 36
Popescu, 1999, p. 295. 78
Ibidem, p. 52.
his accomplishments concerned public contracts as “town architect” of Bucharest 37
Tocilescu, 1887, p. 57. 79
Ibidem, p. 55.
(1853-1855 and 1856-1859) or as the architect of the Ministry of Religion and Public 38
Ibidem, p. 58. 80
Ibidem.
NOTES Instruction (from 1864). 39
Ibidem, pp. 78-81. 81
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 223. The petition, signed, among others, by Theodor
1
Wallachia is the southern part of Romania, stretching between the Danube 15
Greceanu, p. 3. 40
Ibidem, p. 80. Aman, Karl Benisch (formerly a close collaborator of Johann Schlatter), Ştefan
and the Carpathian Mountains, while Moldavia is the eastern part of Romania, 16
Carol I of Romania (Karl Eitel Friedrich Zephyrinus Ludwig von Hohenzollern- 41
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 111. The Commission Report dated 8 December 1880. Ciocârlan, Nicolae Gabrielescu (trained actually on Lecomte’s sites), Ion Mincu,
stretching between the Carpathian Mountains and the river Prut. Wallachia includes Sigmaringen, 1839-1914), ruler (prince) between 1866-1881 and king of Romania 42
Ibidem, p. 112. Gheorghe Mandrea, Dimitrie Maimarolu, G. D. Mirea, Alexandru Orăscu, Al.
the historical provinces separated by the river Olt – Oltenia on the western side and between 1881-1914. 43
Ibidem, pp. 114-116. Săvulescu, Ion Socolescu, George Sterian (similarly to Gabrielescu, a close
Muntenia on the eastern side. 17
N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I. collection, file 7/1874, f. 31. 44
Révoil, 1890, p. 7. collaborator of Lecomte), Karl Storck or Gheorghe Tattarescu..
2
Cornea, 2008, p. 427. 18
Ibidem, f. 32. 45
Ibidem. 82
Ibidem, p. 226, Minute No. 1 with the presentation of restoration works made by
3
The Organic Regulations, adopted in Wallachia in 1831 and in Moldavia in 1832, 19
Ibidem, f. 25-26. 46
Tocilescu, 1887, p. 63. the Ministry of Religion and Public Instruction (27 April 1890).
were legal texts of constitutional nature. Drawn up under the supervision and 20
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 7. See also Crosnier Leconte, 1999-2000, p. 88: Montoreanu 47
N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I. collection, file 342/1875, f. 125-127. 83
Ibidem.
with the direct involvement of Russia, and subsequently ratified by the Ottoman had been accepted at École des Beaux-Arts in the primary cycle in 1865. It is not 48
Odobescu, 1908, p. 263, ref. 1. Excerpt from the closing speech of the Romanian 84
Ibidem, p. 241, Honorific Commission of Public Monuments, Minute no. 3 (12
Porte, the Regulations, despite their conservatism, were the first step towards the known to what extent he followed architecture courses, considering that his file Academy meeting of 1879. May 1890). The statement belongs to M. Kogălniceanu.
modernization of the Principalities. Besides introducing fundamental principles does not include any assessment sheet. 49
N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I. collection, file 130I/1874, f. 52, 52v. Report of Iosif 85
Ionescu, 1979, p. 53. See also Bergdoll, 1994, p. 210, 269. Révoil had gained his
– such as the separation of the powers of state – the Regulations also included 21
N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I. collection, file 342/1875, f. 3-19v. Bobulescu (6 May 1878). fame for the thorough study of Romanesque architecture in the south of France
numerous stipulations as to state institutions, the economy, infrastructure, the army 22
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 17. 50
Carol Kugler (Karl von Kugler) is mainly known for his activity as “town architect” (LʼArchitecture romane du midi de la France, Paris, 1866-73), as well as for his long
etc. The legislation was amended and expanded and remained in force until the 23
Ibidem, file 342/1875, f. 28. of Iaşi and later within the Ministry of Religion and Public Instruction of Moldavia; term involvement in the construction works of Romanesque-Byzantine churches
Union of the Principalities in 1859. 24
See Moldovan, 2017, pp. 118-124. Born in Paris on 7 September 1844, André- see Moldovan, 2014. Sainte-Marie-Majeure and Notre Dame de la Garde in Marseille, as a successor of
4
Curinschi-Vorona, 1996, pp. 157-159. Emile Lecomte had access to artistic education since childhood. In 1859 he enrolled 51
The demolition of the “Gothic hall” started in 1893 and extended even after the architects Léon Vaudoyer and Henri-Jacques Espérandieu.
5
National Archives of Romania, Central Historical National Archives (N.A.R.- at the École Impériale de Dessin et Mathématique under the name André Lecomte. death of Lecomte du Noüy. The site was closed after the fire which broke in winter 86
Révoil, 1890, p. 2.
C.H.N.A.), Ministry of Religion and Public Instruction (M.R.P.I.) collection, file Former student of Joseph Auguste Émile Vaudremer, Anatole de Baudot and Eugène 1916-1917 and the reconstruction works were completed in 1960. 87
Restaurarea monumentelor istorice in Analele arhitecturei şi ale artelor cu care
12/1844, f. 7. Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc, Lecomte du Noüy was involved in a number of projects on 52
Restaurarea, 1890, pp. 78-81. The report of the Commission including Th. Aman, se légă, An II, 1891, Bucureşti, 1892, p. 17.
6
Vladimir Blaremberg (1811-1846), dignitary of Flemish-Belgian origin, came to which little is known: in 1864 he was leading the construction works at the Monaco Th. Ştefănescu, K. Storck and Alex. Săvulescu (November 3rd 1879). 88
Ibidem, pp. 17-27, 43-51.
Wallachia as an officer of the Russian army in 1828, settling here after marrying Palace; in 1868 he was in charge of the funeral chapel of Princess De la Tour 53
N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I. collection, file 130I/1874, f. 177v. Art. 7 of the contract 89
Popescu, 2004, p. 105.
ruler Alexandru Dimitrie Ghica’s sister. He was concerned with archaeological dʼAuvergne on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem etc. According to Alexandru Tzigara- dated 1 April 1882.
excavations in Oltenia, the dilettantism of his researches being criticized later on. In Samurcaş, Lecomte du Noüy had collaborated as inspector with the Commission des 54
Ibidem, f. 88v. A. Lecomte du Noüy’s report on the damage condition of the Trei
1832 Blaremberg has been appointed Chief of the State Engineering Service (until Monuments Historiques in France. In 1873 he went to Palestine as a member of the Ierarhi Church (8 July 1882).
1846). In 1841 Blaremberg received the rank of “Chancellor (Logofăt) of the Faith” archaeological mission led by Charles Clermont-Ganneau, member of Institute de 55
Ibidem, file 130II/1874, f. 78. Report of architect A. Lecomte No. 61 addressed to
and “Dvornik of Prisons” in the State Department of the Internal Affairs. France. Lecomte du Noüy arrived in Romania in 1875, planning to stay here for only the Ministry of Religion and Public Instruction (13 February 1885).
7
For an extensive research concerning Schlatter’s activity, see Moldovan, 2013. two years, until the completion of restoration works at Curtea de Argeş. However, 56
Ibidem.
8
N.A.R.-C.H.N.A., M.R.P.I. collection, file 12/1844, f. 12. the important projects assigned to him, as well as the lack of a comfortable family 57
Ibidem, f.78v.
9
Nedioglu, 1925, pp. 159-160. life made him spend most of his life here. With his “gentle temper and thorough 58
Restaurarea, 1890, p. 188. A. Lecomte’s report on the overall financial estimation
10
Karl Benisch (1822-1896) was born in Austria at Jägendorf. He studied architecture erudition” and being “wholly dedicated to the work undertaken”, Lecomte du Noüy of the works at the Trei Ierarhi (12 January 1887).
in Vienna and Munich, settling in Pest. In 1847, at the request of the Romanian had close relationships with the Romanian cultural and political elite. Lecomte du 59
Bogdan, 1916, pp. 527-530.
prince, he entered the administration of Wallachia. Since the beginning of his work Noüy died in 1914 and, at Queen Elisabetaʼs initiative, approved by King Ferdinand 60
Balş, 1933, pp.134-145.
in the Principality, Bensich has collaborated with Johann Schlatter. Besides his I, he was buried in the cemetery of Flămânzeşti Church (the hospital chapel of the 61
Ibidem, pp. 135, 141.
involvement in projects concerning historical architecture, Benisch has developed former Curtea de Argeş monastery). 62
Analele arhitecturei, 1890, pp. 60-64, 88-93, 101-104.
new construction projects, mostly for the state. Since 1880, Benisch has worked 25
The works under the coordination of the “Special Service of Restoration” led by 63
Lapedatu, 1911, p. 788.
on finishing works at the Catholic cathedral of St. Joseph in Bucharest (1873-1884), Lecomte du Noüy, active until 1914, were those of the Bishopric Church in Curtea 64
Voinescu ,1944, p. 148.
 BUCAREST BURNS? NAMELY RESTORATION OF MONUMENTS AND URBAN POLICY IN ROMANIA DURING THE
REGIME OF NICOLAE CEAUŞESCU
Stefano D’AVINO
186
In Romania at the beginning of the Twentieth century, and
in particular after the declaration of national unity (1918),
the interest of the restorers was mainly concentrated on the
protection of religious monuments. A different direction was
taken after Second World War, above all after the foundation, in
1953, of the Direction of Historical Monuments1; in this historical
period there was, in fact, a wider diversification of protective
actions, which also extended to archeological sites, medieval
citadels, mansions and palaces.
“Paradoxically, in a period negative from the economical, social
and cultural point of view, the preservation and restoration
activity was reorganized, amplified and it gained in rigour
and objectivity. Even if some methods do not seem to be not
perfectly linked to the context or some solutions, at times, basic,
the methodological approach, at least on a theoretical level,
appears in line with what was happening in the rest of Europe,
and the State earmarked substantial funds to support research
and restoration activity” (Criticos, 2012, 125).
In the first years of the communist regime the archeological sites
of Adamclisi, Capidava and Histria were put under protection,
and many monuments in a more or less advanced state of
deterioration were object of conservation; nonetheless the
Direction of Monuments sometimes conflicted with the State
authorities which preferred to support a “progressive” urban
policy. Subsequently, during the national-communist period,
the official propaganda even goes as far as promoting both
archeological research and activating the restoration of ancient
vestiges.
The development of restoration activity in Romania after World
War II introduced the programmatic concern for monuments in a
state of ruin, together with the concept of innovative restoration,
applicable in the cases of inclusion of new components in
1. Potlogi palace
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2014
2. Mogoşoaia palace
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015
187
historical complexes, and the use of modern techniques and
materials for the integration of documented, but disappeared,
elements. In this period different positions were present in
Romania, relative to interventions on ruins: from the complete or
partial rebuilding to the preservation in a state of ruin; and also
intermediate solutions2.
The total rebuilding, previously proclaimed at the conference in
Athens 1931, was definitely influenced by European examples
reconstituting the symbolic value of the monuments damaged
during the war; however, this methodological method does not
seem to have had a significant influence on the interventions on
historical monuments, rebuilt or reintegrated in 1950’s-1960’s.
An example of such a tendency is constituted by the Potlogi
palace (1698-1699), the first court of Prince Brâncoveanu,
restored in 1954-1956 by architects Ştefan Balş and Radu
Udroiu (fig. 1). Potlogi represents the archetype of aristocratic
residential architecture in Wallachia, synthesis of local traditions
and Palladian influence, and therefore a landmark in the history
of Romanian architecture. Abandoned in 1714, the building
gradually lost the upper register of its brick walls, the roofs of
the main floor and the covering, the lodge and the entrance
pavilion, significant elements of which only vague documentary
indications existed.
The restorers, opting for the full reconstruction as optimal
solution finalized to the safeguarding of the building and of its
delicate interior and exterior grouting decoration, reintegrated
the brickwork facades and rebuilt reinforced concrete roofs,
without however making the intervention distinguishable.
The disappeared elements were recomposed by analogy with
Mogoşoaia palace (fig. 2), the most representative example of a
princely residence of the period, in turn inspired by the original
model, precisely Potlogi; so it results as having been recreated
 3. The inauguration of the
Adamclisi’s triumphal monument
restoration in the presence of
Nicolae Ceauşescu. (May 28, 1977)
5. Bucharest, intervention of
‘liberation’ of biserica Schitul
Maicilor,1982; successively shifted
by several hundred meters. (private
archive)
188
with elements taken from its modified copy (Mogoşoaia),
“paradoxically acquiring ideal ‘stylistic purity’ based on the
restorers hypotheses. The recovery of the plastic integrity of the
palatial prototype Potlogi, actualized by analogical reconstitution
operations, has become, in this case, an example of ‘in style’
design, whose historical faking might be legitimated by the
exemplary significance of the building and justified by its didactic
role (Criticos, 2012, 127).
In this case, as in the contemporary restoration of Moldoviţa
monastery (Corneliu Dan e Ștefan Balş, 1955-1957), an
unprejudiced use of reinforced concrete can be observed, a
material acknowledged as “modern” a priori and therefore
enthusiastically adopted in the field of restoration (especially in
the first decades after World War II), but which over time has
proved inadequate; above all, due to the fact that, coated with a
plaster analogous to that used for the original wall equipments, it
suggest a fake authenticity.
In the Seventies, therefore, attention to the recognizability of
the intervention begins to manifest itself in Romania, as attested
in the refectory of Dragomirna monastery, (Ioana Grigorescu e
Nicolae Diaconu, 1961-1970) where, on the base of documentary
evidence, the reinforced concrete is used to reproduce the
primary spatiality and the geometry of the original roofs but
properly coated with plaster to distinguish it from more ancient
elements.
An example of total reconstitution configures in the restoration
of Adamclisi’s triumphal monument in Trophaeum Traiani (Dan
Rusovan, 1975-1977)3 (fig. 3).
With the beginning of the last period of the socialist regime,
historically coincident with the national-communist period of
Ceauşescu dictatorship (1967), the power finds its legitimacy
in the national history tradition and first of all in the Dacian-
4. Bucharest, Curtea Veche.
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015
6. Bucharest, Calea Vâcâresti (private
archive, 1985). In the foreground
church of Sf. Nicolae Jitnitâ.
(Popescu, 2-3)
189
Roman origins; therefore the heritage preservation becomes
a propaganda tool of the State, which causes, consequently,
the allocation of substantial resources for the preservation and
restoration both of Dacian citadels of Monti Orăştiei, both of
the Roman cities of Porolissum (Alba Iulia), Potaissa (Turda) and
Celei.
During the same years other models are tried: the arrangement
in the form of ruin, solution which inscribes itself in the course
of archeological restoration, was adopted in many of the
interventions made between 1960 and 1970; a paradigmatic
example is represented by the restoration of the citadel of
Suceava, ancient seat of the Moldovan throne, affected by large
preservation and restoration works managed by architects
Nicolae Diaconu e Virgil Antonescu. The deliverance of the
area from vegetation and materials there accumulated reveals
to restorers the substantial lack of ruins, which might have
supported an anastylosis reconstruction; this led to the choice
to consolidate and partially reintegrate the portions which had divided into plots, auctioned and then occupied by houses and interrupted once the Department of the National Cultural
preserved unmistakable proof of the original forms. commercial buildings which included original walls. Heritage was disbanded in 1977, at the wish of Ceauşescu,
A similar course of action was followed at Neamţ fortress (XIV-XV The archeological excavation campaign, which started in 1967 following the Commission’s criticism of the demolition of the
centuries) where, between 1968 and 1972, architect Ştefan Balş generated a broad debate about the intervention modalities biserica Enei (which dated back to 1611), while, at the same
proposed an exercise of partial reintegration of the walls and the in the area, resulted in an intense activity of demolition and time, “ideological demolitions” (Kovacs, 2005, 31) (fig. 6) were
reconstruction, based on the discovery of ground traces, of the “deliverance” (fig. 5). The subsequent restoration work of the intensified and intellectuals were subjected to harsh repression.
access bridge pylons. Court ruins, led by Nicolae Pruncu between 1972 and 1974, was Also the disastrous earthquake that happened in that year was
Most of the interventions after Second World War made use, aimed to the preservation of the monument in its state of ruin, exploited for the fulfillment of the programmatic destruction
however, of mixed solutions, combining partial reconstitutions with partial re-integration devoted, at least in the intentions of of signs of the past, one of the purposes not declared by
and ruins; as appears obvious in the Bucarest Curtea Veche (fig. the restorer, to suggesting possible mental returns. Ceauşescu’s regime: rather than restore or rebuild the
4), original core of the Romanian capital. Built in the sixteenth Till the end of the seventies, therefore a substantial restoration monuments damaged by the earthquake, there shall be their
century by Vlad Ţepeş on a fifteenth century’s pre-existing one, work took place in Romania, even if it was mainly addressed demolition, with the pretext of modernization and urban
the building was object of enlargements and transformations to ancient monuments rather than to more recent; which recovery. Such in the church of Cotroceni Palace that was still
till the first half of the eighteenth century, when its irreversible highlights the political desire to ‘anchor’ the period culture to considered for the renovation that followed the earthquake, only
decline began. At the end of the century, the ground was the Dacia-Roman roots. All restoration activities were essentially for the communist authorities to deem it “inconsistent” with the
 7. Bucharest, biserica Cotroceni.
The church was demolished after
the damages suffered due to the
earthquake of 1977. (Iana, 20)
8. Bucharest, biserica Cotroceni. The
arrangement of the ashes of the
church (1992-1993). (Iana, 20)
9. Bucharest, biserica Cotroceni. The
church after reconstruction, 2009.
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2014
10. Piteşti. The architecture of
Ceauşescu replaced the traditional
190 one. (www.Panoramio.com)
11. Giurgiu, Turnul cu Ceas. (www.
giugiu.semnal)
12. Bucharest, glimpse of str.
Mamulari.
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2015
rest of the buildings and tear it down in 1984 (figg. 7, 8, 9).
The plan had the purpose of destroying the cultural tradition
and the memory of the Country, replacing it with a “new
socialist tradition” and, in essence, aimed at the construction
of a new identity. Year after year, entire buildings and churches
were demolished to leave space for the construction of
massive complexes with the primary purpose of destroying the
conscience of a nation, its history and its root; a purpose which
was pursued despite a law, issued just some years before (1947),
that would explicitly preserve the monuments in the field of
urban and rural planning.
The autonomy policy towards Moscow, began by Gheorghe
Gheorghiu-Dej and continued by Ceauşescu, while it gained
the Western agreement, it did however make the regime
more feeble, in particular in internal policy; consequently, the
construction of a deep legitimacy became necessary, which went
beyond the simple popular recognition of a power based on
repression, pursuing, exactly, the invention of a new tradition.
Till the fall, in 1989, of Ceauşescu’s regime several urban centers
were completely redrawn through vast campaigns of demolition
and reconstruction, and the reorganization of rural areas had
well started with the destruction of the first villages in North of
Bucarest (Giurescu, 1989, Preface) which, according to the State
program, would be replaced by agro-industrial centers.
The intensive occupation of vast peripheral areas also met the
need for accommodations induced by the massive migration of a
large part of rural population towards big cities.
The first great demolition intervention of the urban historical
centers concerned Suceava (1961), where any architecture not
appreciated as a historical monument was demolished (replaced
by extensive condominiums), as well as Botoşani, Iaşi, Piatra-
Neamţ, Bacău, Buzău, Constanţa, Baia Mare, Vaslui, Giurgiu,
13. Bucharest, biserica Sf. Ion Nou,
plaţa Unirii, demolished in 1985.
(Popescu, 18)
14. Bucharest, biserica Sf. Vineri,
demolished in 1987. (private archive)
191
Târgovişte e Piteşti4 (fig. 10); in the last case the town was razed
and rebuilt between 1966-1988, motivating the feat with the
assertion that “the pre-war architecture has no special value;
exclusively three important building must be built in the centre
to put an end to the urban disarray” (Soare, 1973, 4).
Sporadic and isolated were the voices of dissent; observing
the destruction operated in Giurgiu old town, only an original
solitary tower remains today as proof (fig. 11), Dino Giurescu, in
1983, said: “Demolish the heritage of urban architecture means
deleting pages of history from memory; young people, will
live soon in a town where almost nothing will ever remember
anymore the past Romanian civilization (…) To abandon urban
and rural traditional architecture means giving up one’s own
identity. This should never be thought or done, unless we want
to compromise our future as a nation” (Giurescu, 1985, 5).
Traditional architecture and traditional urban fabric have been
deleted and replaced by collective housing and the road network
has been redrawn: a new urban model has been imposed,
without any connection with the past, with isolated, ‘freed’,
historical monuments, sometimes hidden among the new
buildings.
Naturally, the city of Bucarest was taken as an exemplary
workshop: the plan of systematic demolition aimed at redrawing
the urban face, unifying it, according to the new model imposed
by the regime, began in 1980; and ended four years later. The
destruction caused by the earthquake of 1977 was used as
a pretext for wide-ranging demolition activity in the city of
Bucharest: the regime’s goal was to change the face of the capital
and Romanian society, forging a new national identity unattached
to traditional institutions while removing pre-communist
Romania from what would be a newly reconstructed national
memory.
 15. Bucharest, biserica Kretzulescu.
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2012
16. Bucharest, mănăstire Vacaresti.
The interior of the church before its
destruction. (private archive)
17. Bucharest, the demolition of
the monastery church of Vacaresti.
(private archive)
18. Bucharest, sf. Ilie. The church in
its current placing.
Photo credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2016
192
To the paradigmatic symbols of this process of transformation
can be added the double aspect of the street front of str.
Mamulari (fig. 12) which, for different circumstances, did not
see the work of planned replacement completed; namely the
reorganization of the area of Revolution Square .
A separate chapter is constituted by the relationship with the
Church. In this context the Romanian Orthodox Church, the most
widespread religion in Romania, found itself forced to adopt an
attitude of moderate closure and cohabitation, also because of
the retention (at least in the first years of the regime established
by Ceauşescu) of special privileges which compared to other
religions were reserved to Orthodox clergy according to the
Constitution issued in 1923.
On the other hand, appeared immediately clear that after the
destruction of the old political system and of its institutions,
the last important obstacle towards the establishment of a
communist regime in Romania, which was to be implemented
through the eradication of traditional institutions and the
programmatic change of the face of the society through
nationalization, collectivization and urbanization of rural areas,
was the Church.
After the mini-cultural revolution promoted by Ceauşescu in
the middle sixties, atheist propaganda was resumed in the
following decade, concretizing in a process of ‘devitalization’ of
the ecclesiastical institution conducted through a campaign of
the demolition of the places of worship expected in the plan
for the organization of the cities and the urbanization of rural
areas5. So in Bucarest, among others, Sf. Ion Nou (fig. 13) and
Sf. Vineri churches (fig. 14) was razed; while other testimonies,
for example biserica Kretzulescu (fig. 15), were separeted from
the urban fabric (and, in essence, marginalized) when even
hidden within residential blocks, as in the case of the ‘biserica’
Doamnei. Neither the protests of some intellectuals, like Grigore
Eunescu e Dinu Giurescu, were enough to prevent this, because
in December 1984 carries out the destruction of the monastery
of Vacaresti (figg. 16-17), the biggest after those of Mount Athos,
the main place of worship of the Romanian Orthodox Church;
of that, only some scraps of painted plasters and some portions
of the indoor colonnade, today stored at the Mogosoaia Palace,
are rescued from the bulldozers. Last act of an obsessive attempt
to find a source of legitimacy carried out by Ceauşescu for his
regime through the creation of a new identity and the contextual
removal of the memory of pre-communist Romania, pursued
with programmatic destruction of its memories.
Nor did the operations during which a number of religious
buildings were moved (in certain cases by several hundred
metres) (figg. 18,19), most of them carried out by the engineer
Eugeniu Iordachescu between 1982 and the 1988, in any lessen
the negative legacy of the program, even though, in the final
analysis, they did ensure the preservation of the buildings6;
still, once the churches were relocated, they found themselves
‘isolated’ in an urban context dominated by constructions that
were expressions of the regime (fig. 21).
The following text resumes, and improves with a broader critical
and iconographic framework, a paper published in M. P. Garcia,
C. Varagnoli (eds.), Heritage in conflict, Roma 2015, pp. 161-172.
REFERENCES
SOARE Pompiliu, Studiu centru Piteşti, ‘Arhitectura’, XXI (1972), 2 (141), p. 4.
GIURESCU, Dinu, Istoria se păstrează şi prin arhitectură, ‘Argeş’, XX (1985), p.5.
GIURESCU Dinu The razing of Romania’s past, Washington D.C., National Trust for
Historic Preservation, Prefazione (1989).
IANA Andreia Cristina, Biserica Fostei Mânâstiri Cotroceni. Recontrucţia. Bucureşti
2014.
KOVÁCS Kazmer, Timpul monumentului istoric, Bucureşti 2003.
POPESCU Cristian, Bucureşti – Arhipelag. Demolarire anilor ’80: ştergeri, urme,
reveniri, Bucureşti 2007.
CRITICOS Mihaela, La pratica dell’intervento in edifici allo stato di rudere. Il caso
della Romania, in Il rudere: conservazione vs reintegrazione?, Proceedings of
International workshop, Pescara – Bucarest 2011. Pescara 2012, pp.122-149.
BIRZU Câlin, Intervenţii de conservare, restaurare şi punere în valoare a pieselor
litice decorate salvate de la demolarea bisericii mânâstirei Vâcâresti, ‘Caitele
On the previous page:
19. Bucharest, the demolition of
the monastery Mihai Voda. (private
archive)
On the current page:
20. Bucharest, mănăstire Mihai
Voda. The monastery church during
operations for its displacement.
(private archive)
21. Bucharest, the church of Mihai
Voda in its current placing. (photo
credit: Stefano D’Avino, 2017)
193
restaurârii’, 2014, pp. 60-71.
NOTES
1
Until 1947 the ‘Commission for Public Monuments’, created in 1892 on
the French model (at the same time as the adoption of the Law on historical
monuments), and named, since 1900, ‘Commission of historical monuments’,
operated in Romania. After World War II, with the rise of the communist regime
this system was suppressed, together with other ‘bourgeois’ institutions, and in
its stead in 1951 the ‘Scientific Commission of museums and historical and artistic
monuments’ was constituted, soon flanked by the ‘Direction of Architectural
Monuments’ (1953), which later become ‘Direction of Historical Monuments’
(1959).
2
On this matter compare: CURINSCHI-VORONA, Gheorghe (1995) Arhitectura.
Urbanism. Restaurare, Bucureşti: Ed. Tehnică, pp. 181-184.
3
Adamclisi it’s a village of Dobrogea, region located between the Danube and
the Black Sea, known in ancient times as the Roman province of Scythia Minor.
In proximity to the site there is a great archeological complex which includes
a Roman city, Municipium Tropaeum Traiani, some extra muros buildings
(cemetery, aqueducts, furnaces) and a group of memorial monuments, among
which the triumphal monument (106-109 a.C.). On this matter compare:
RUSOVAN, Dan, VECERDEA, Gheorghe (1979) Ansamblul monumentelor de la
Adamclisi, Arhitectura, 2, pp. 9-15.
4
On this matter compare, including an axtensive bibliography: IONESCU, Grigore
(1966) Să punem în valoare ansamblurile arhitecturale, Arhitectura, XIV, 1
(9), p. 9; SANDU, Alexandru (1973), Pentru o inţelegere complexă, ştiinţifică a
restructurării urbane, Arhitectura, XXI, 4 (143), p.7; CIUBOTARU, Ioan (1973),
Reconstrucţie, renovare sau restructurare urbană?, Arhitectura, XXI, 4 (143),
p. 60; LÂZÂRESCU, Cezar (1966), Studiu pentru sistematizarea zonei centrale a
oraşului Piteşti, Arhitectura, XIV, 6 (103), pp. 50-52, 71.
5
In the decade between 1977 and 1987, no fewer than twenty religious buildings
were demolished, and not in Bucharest alone, including some of the finest
examples of the Romanian architectural tradition (Manastiria Cotroceni, sf.
Spiridon Vechi, Manastiria Vacaresti).
6
The technique used to move the churches without damaging them involved
excavating below their foundations, in a sequential series of worksites, and
installing rails along which the heavy buildings were moved using hydraulic levers.
 SYNTETIC REPLICAS OF ARCHITECTURAL DETAILS USING 3D
MODELLING AND 3D PRINTING
Adrian GHEORGHIU, Ioan ANDREESCU
194
Introduction
Built heritage is a substantial component of our “Cultural
heritage”, an expression of the ways of living developed and
passed from generation to generation by a community, a
testimony of its shared valued and beliefs.
The built heritage is a component of our Tangible Heritage
(Icomos 2002); cityscapes and heritage buildings make cities
unique and able to preserve and enhance our shared identities.
Our own city, Timisoara, the westernmost city of Romania, is a
living proof of the important role the fabric of heritage buildings
and public spaces play in our daily life.
Timisoara is a city almost 750 years old, but very few material
remnants from this distant past were preserved.
It was an angevine outpost in medieval Hungary, the capital of a
vast region called Banat, a Turkish city (between 1541-1716), the
main city of a habsburgic province, and after 1918 a Romanian
city.
Its present shape was forged continuously between mid 18th
and early 20th century, the decisive pre-modern era of Central
Europe (Mitteleuropa)1. It was only recently that a complex
urban renewal project allowed for the archaeological uncovering
of a more distant past.
The city has an inner core, The Citadel, where the main
institutional buildings were disposed along a perfect octagonal
grid enclosed inside a formidable Vauban fortress; around
the nucleus were several satellite towns, each displaying an
unique character. When the fortress was levelled in the late
19th century, the satellites and the core were reunited into an
urban continuum imagined by the famous architect and urbanist
Ludwig von Ybl in 18992.
It is the consistent fabric of this urban tissue connecting the
historic nuclei that gives Timisoara its unique identity; thousands
of beautiful houses (fig. 1) displaying magnificent constructive
and architectural details and beautifully crafted ornamental
patterns3.
Beside a few dozens of high-rank monumental heritage
buildings, the bulk of our urban heritage consists of this average
historic buildings still in use today, an essential part of our day-
to-day “ambiente”.
The same condition is to be found in most central European
cities and in western European cities as well.
These buildings (figg. 2,3) are exposed to the effect of pollution,
weathering, changes in use and even unfortunate tentatives of
remodelling and restructuring. Labeled as “minor architecture”
in opposed to major monuments, such buildings are supposed to
benefit from “reduced” or “simplified” recovery proceeding, as
background for “important” heritage structures.
When it takes place, each intervention impoverishes and
mutilates the ornamental wealth of these buildings, affecting the
special qualities of the urban space.
In my personal practice, over several decades, I have always
respected the position of P. Philippot, who sustained that it is
an ethical and cultural must to carefully preserve the image
of the pre modern city from late 19th and early 20th century,
without favoring supposedly more “important” periods4.
There are several causes for the accelerated decline of these
unique buildings: first, the decrease in both public and private
funding for maintenance and restoration, correlated with the
sheer number of such buildings. The traditional assessment
proceedings – restoration survey, materials assessment –
are time consuming and expensive and so are the costs of
intervention.
On the previous page:
1. Timisoara historic building
2, 3. Historic building in the Citadel,
before and after restoration
On the current page:
4, 5. Timisoara building restoration
and consolidation (2004)
195
In the field of structural consolidation, new technologies are
accepted (fig. 4, 5) (carbon fiber, steel); in surface restoration
there is a general consensus about preserving the time-honored
traditional crafts, which brings us to the second cause of the
dramatic downfall of handicraft, which causes poor results in
work quality and loss of precious details.
Generally, “minor” architecture in Mitteleuropa displays brick
structures, wooden floors and attics, plaster finishing and
plaster, ceramic, metal and wood ornaments. The materials are
of average quality but the craftsmanship is exquisite.
In the last twenty years in our country craft techniques were
replaced by off-the-shelf industrial technologies, art and craft
schools closed and the time-honored apprenticeship system
almost disappeared. The very few available artisans have
become cultural heroes, but cannot cope with the huge demand.
In most western countries this process started even earlier.
The temptation to use modern materials and techniques in
the restoration field has led to the prevalence of the aesthetics
of “contrast”, a vulgarization of the remarkable Castelvecchio
(Verona) intervention by Carlo Scarpa some fifty years ago5.
Instead of this approach we propose a methodology which
can generate accurately reproduced elements that can replace
damaged or missing details and ornaments in heritage buildings,
by using high-tech imaging and 3D printing techniques.
This approach will obviously trigger a theoretical debate about
authenticity, patina, replica, simulacrum, etc.
The exact replication of the Lascaux site and artifacts (1984)
attracted Jean Baudrillard’s comment that both the original and
the replica underwent a loss of meaning and became “artificial”,
sophisticated and expressive6.
The installation of a high-tech replica of the famous
Marcus Aurelius equestrian statue in Campidoglio and the

196
“museification” of the original inside a pavilion designed by Calro
Aymonino produced a heated debate between W.Veltroni, then
minister of culture, who praised the protection of the original,
and the former director of the Central Institute of Restoration,
who considered the decision as “an attack on decency, good
taste and culture”7.
Developments
The process is based on data collecting, the 3D modelling of the
existing elements, allowing for further virtual manipulation and
resulting in the accurate 3D printing of a replica of the chosen
elements.
The printed elements installation on the site is becoming easier,
less specialized and consequently more cost efficient.
In order to test the proceedings, we have chosen the “Great
Synagogue” in the Citadel of Timisoara, (fig. 6, 7) inaugurated in
1865 by the emperor Franz Joseph I. This centrally shaped and
domed brick building is enveloped in a “moorish-andalusian”
decorated façade and stands out for both civic dignity of the
newly emancipated Jewish community and its desire to integrate
in the modern society.
Our choice was an ornamental ceramic tile from the main
façade, measuring 23.3 x 23.3 x 3.5 cm.
The production of an accurate replica is a three-step process.
The first step is the collection of data about the studied object
through laser scanning or digital photogrammetry.
Our first choice was digital photogrammetry because it can be
done with commercial cameras and it is more cost effective than
high performance laser scanning.
Through photogrammetric procedure (fig. 8), successive
overlapping photos of the object are taken (75% - 80% overlap)
Accurate scaling is obtained by using reference markers. In
On the previous page:
On the left: 6, 7. The Great Syna-
gogue from the Citadel of Timisoara
On the right: 8. Data colection
Up: 9. Data processing: element
cloud point, wireframe, solid, solid
textured
On the current page:
10, 11. FDM-PLA printing machine
and result
197
connection with the photogrammetric data collection, one of
our collaborators, Mr. Lucian Vuicin (from Helicam S.A. hightech
imaging firm) imagined a Linear Motion Central System for
Digital Photogrammetric Survey. The system is comprised of
three elements:
- An ultra-light modular tress structure constructed from carbon
fiber and assembled via special aluminum connection;
- A motorized four axis camera mount made of carbon fiber, and
- A programmable electronic controller.
Although it was not available during our data collection,
it could seriously improve the speed and accuracy of the
photogrammetric process, especially for archeological and
architectural applications. We also tested a consumer 3D
scanner and a semi-pro “point and shoot” 3D scanner, but finally
we processed the photogrammetric data collection.
The second step was data processing (fig. 9) using available
software as “3DModeller” or “Photoscanner”. The steps were:
element point cloud, element wireframe, element solid and
finally the element solid textured.
The third step was the 3D printing itself. This step was preceded
by an assessment of the available 3D technologies, materials
and finishes. After exploring both the consecrated and the
newer, innovative technologies, we have chosen the following
printing technologies and materials: FDM-PLA (Fused Deposition
Modelling – Polyactide Resin – filament) SLS – poly laurin lactam
(Laser Sintering or Sterolithography – polyamide 12, nylon 12),
ProJet – powder infiltrant & CMYK binders, PolyJet – Photo
Polymers (Polymerised Vero White Plus) and the mcor (A4
standard office paper).
Before the 3D printing, a 3D model validation process is
necessary. The process has six steps:
 12, 13. SLS printing machine and
result
198
- Size check – the physical boundaries of the 3d print machine
wall thickness
- File format check
- Is the file in the standard (STL, PL Y, OBJ) format?
- Polygon count check.
- Normals check. Face normals define the “inside” and “outside”
of the model.
Manifoldness check. Due to the nature of the 3D printing
process, all models need to be closed, manifolded objects.
Manifold means that each edge in the model is shared by exactly
two faces – not more and not less. Manifolds objects are always
closed.
The analysis of our five print technologies produced the
following results:
1. The FDM-PLA (fig. 10, 11) produced a cheap monochrome
(white) textured copy of unconvincing quality
2. The SLS – Poly-laurin lactam (polyamide 12), Nylon 12, (fig.
12, 13) produced a rather expensive monochrome (white),
geometrically accurate replica; we gave up the next step, the
manual coloring of the tile.
3. The Pro-Jet – powder infiltrate & CMYK binders (fig. 14, 15)
technology produced an impressive replica in terms of geometry,
texture and perfect reproduction of colours. The price for a tile
was rather important, but the potential cost reduction in case of
extended use is considerable.
4. The PolyJet - (Polymerised Vero White Plus) technology was
apparently a winner in terms of both cost and quality. In fact, the
color programme failed to perform.
5. The mcor - A4 standard paper + colored inkjet cartridges, a
new and revolutionary 3D printing technique could not be tested
because of a communication breakdown with the mcor partner.
The experience was enlightening: this is a field in full
development, new technologies appear periodically and the
potential is huge.
Even the trivial FDM-PLA can be used with success if covered by
paint or plaster. The more evolved SLS (Laser Sintering) and the
sophisticated ProJet are able to produce high quality replicas.
The high cost of the experimental testing could drop quickly in
case of extended use.
Conclusions
The rapid development of technology is fundamentally
influencing our approach to the built heritage. A large array of
miniaturized sensors (laser, photo, UV, X-ray, spectrograph) are
available as well as new technical means of recognition (drones,
satellites).
Now we are able to explore and model our built environment
with great accuracy and we can store these models (including
the kind of precise 3D solid model we have used) in virtual
archives.
The 2D and especially the 3D printers are allowing us to produce
amazing copies and/or replicas of the most complex artifacts.
In 2006, the “Fondazione Cini” reached an agreement with the
Louvre museum, which granted “Factum Arte” the permission
to produce a full scale high-tech replica of Veronese’s painting
“Le Nozze di Cana”, destined to the Cenacolo Palladiano in the
convent of “San Giorgio Maggiore” in Venice.
The working methodology was similar to ours: A photo scanner
using large CCD sensors scanned the painting mounted on a
precision telescopic mast. The data was pre-assembled using
Photoshop scripting and colors adjusted using high quality
photographs.
The printing was done using a purpose built flatbed printer on
14, 15. Pro-Jet printing machine and
result
199
gesso coated canvas. The result was placed in the Cenacolo in NOTES
order to reproduce the original outlook of the space. It was
1
Opris, M. 1987, “Timisoara”, Editura Tehnica,Bucuresti, p. 86-113
2
Opris, M. 1987, “Timisoara”, Editura Tehnica,Bucuresti, p. 117-121
generally considered a huge success8. 3
Opris, M., Botescu, M., 2014, “Arhitectura Istorica din Timisoara”, Editura
This approach brings us to the controversial problem of Tempus ISBN 978-973-1958-28-6 p. 157-172
authenticity in restoration. 4
Philippot, P. 1986, “Il restauro degli intonaci colorati in architectura, l’esempio
After all, as Cesare Brandi warned some time ago, that di Roma e la questione di metodo” in Bolletino d’arte, Supplemento al n 35-36
(“Intonaci, colore e coloriture nell’ edilizia storica”, Atti di Convegno di studi
restoration is essentially a product of its own time and space, Roma 25-27 Ottobre 1984) 1984, parte II, p 139-141
and it’s an act of critical interpretation9. 5
Murphy, R. 1990, “Carlo Scarpa and the Castelvecchio”, Boston, Butterworth
Managing weathering and damage, completing for the losses are Architecture, p. 4-9
central to our care for the built heritage.
6
Baudrillard, J. 1994, “Simulacra and Simulation”, University of Michigan Press,
p. 18
We have always a purpose when we restore, and that purpose is 7
Augias, C. 1993, “Marco Aurelio Scende in Piazza”, La Republica N. 5, p. 27
evolving continuously and is always open to debate. 8
Fondazione Sergio Cini. “Il progetto Nozze di Cana a San Giorgio” (PDF) – www.
We are acting in our own time, influenced by our realities, cini.it
technologies, values and perceptions.
9
Brandi, C. 1996. “Teoria Restaurarii” (Teoria del restauro), Editura Meridiane,
Bucuresti, p. 58-59
P. Philippot indicated that “authentic relationship with the past 10
Philippot, P. 1996. “Restauration from the perspective of the humanities” in
must not only recognize the unbridgeable gap that has formed, Nicholas Stanley Price, M.K. Talley jr. and Alessandra Melucco Vaccaro, Historical
after historicism, between us and the past; it must also integrate and Philosophical
this distance into the actualization of the work produced by the Issues in Conservation of Cultural Heritage (Los Angeles – The Getty Conservation
Institute), p. 225
intervention”10. 11
Brandi, C. 1996 in Price et al., p. 233
Some problems as the patina are to be considered, as Brandi 12
Choay, F. 1998. “Alegoria Patrimoniului”, Uniunea Arhitectilor din Romania, Ed.
itself remarked, on a case by case basis11. Simeria, p. 184-195
Françoise Choay expressed her hope that architecture will
have an important memorial role to play despite the loss of
our “competence d’edifier”12, namely our capacity to build and
transfer meaning in the traditional way.
I am still optimist - after all we want to preserve what is our
“ambiente” with an insightful use of the means provided by our
evolving technology.
Acknowledgements: This research received no specific grant
from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-
profit sectors.
 THE RESTORATION OF EARLY 20TH CENTURY RESIDENTIAL
BUILDINGS IN BUCHAREST
Mircea CRIŞAN
200
Even if too ‘young’ to be considered of ‘historical’ value1 , the
early 20th century residential buildings in Bucharest are some of
the most important components of the traditional urban tissue,
as well as important cultural resources, relevant for the Romanian
history of architecture and urbanization. They are the material
testimony of a significant moment in the evolution of the city,
recalling a period when Bucharest was a sophisticated capital with
great economic power, an avant-garde artistic movement, cutting-
edge Modernist architecture, and a social life which rivalled that
of any other major city in Europe.
The houses built in Bucharest at the beginning of the 20th
century generally exhibit innovative architectural expressions,
from Neo-Romanian style to Cubism. Often the houses have
generous surfaces, large openings and flexible spaces. A
common characteristic is the attention given to detail, designed
with elegance and executed with good quality materials
and workmanship. At the same time, these buildings are
experimenting with the new materials and technologies of the
period. In Romania, as in other European countries, the end of
the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century were
marked by the transition from the pre-modern techniques to the
modern ones based on steel and concrete. In the first decades
of the 20th century, the establishment of Romanian cement
factories and the start of the national industrial production of
reinforcing steel bars stimulated this process; thus, the traditional
floors in wood, as well as the steel floors promoted at the end of
the 19th century, were extensively replaced by those in reinforced
concrete.
Usually the construction of the low-rise residential buildings
associated load-bearing brick masonry with reinforced concrete
floors, but they were designed only to resist gravity loads,
not earthquakes. Sometimes the buildings present vertical
discontinuities of the load-bearing elements. The reinforced
concrete floors do not have bond beams and the slab thickness
is much less than what would be accepted today. The reinforcing
systems, as well as the compressive strength of the concrete, are
below those accepted by current norms: usually the reinforcing
bars are 6–8 mm in diameter at a spacing of 20–25 cm; the
concrete is of low quality, with a compressive strength below 150
daN/cm2. In time, such intrinsic vulnerabilities, associated with
the permanent vertical loads and under repeated strong seismic
actions, have led to more or less visible damage and a weakening
of the resistance capacity.
The current structural restoration works are meant to correct
decay phenomena but also to satisfy the use requirements of the
new owners, while ensuring users’ safety.
The question of the structural safety is especially important
(and threatening) in the case of the Romanian built heritage,
which is confronted with strong earthquakes and restrictive
Codes. As Bernard Feilden says, ‘many times a historic building
has the options of being destroyed by the Codes or by the next
earthquake’2.
It is generally accepted that in restoration the minimum effective
intervention capable of preserving the building’s integrity and
users’ safety is the best policy; usually it can be put in practice by
improving the existing structure and avoiding its transformation
into a new one responding to contemporary norms. But often
the engineer has to manage a very delicate equilibrium between
conservation and transformation: sometimes inherent defects
and/or an advanced state of decay ask for a ‘hard’ intervention;
other times the prevalence of the transformation can be
determined by extensive architectural modifications required
by the client, imposing a radical structural intervention. Above
all, the severe restrictions proper to a strong seismic area are
On the previous page:
1. The building designed in Neo-
Romanian style by Octav Doicescu
as a private residence for Nicolae
Caranfil.
On the current page:
2, 3, 4. Plants and section of
the building designed in Neo-
Romanian style by Octav Doicescu
as a private residence for Nicolae
Caranfil.
201
constantly present.
In the following paragraphs, we’ll present the restoration of
three residential buildings built in the 1930s and set in the same
modernist neighbourhood in Bucharest. These examples illustrate
different architectural styles representative for the early 20th
century in Bucharest and different restoration situations.
The first example is a building designed in Neo-Romanian style
by Octav Doicescu3 as a private residence for Nicolae Caranfil,
engineer and director of the General Company for Gas and
Electricity in Bucharest. Building construction started in 1935,
under the supervision of a famous engineer and contractor of
the period, Emil Prager (fig.1). It is currently listed as an historic
monument of local interest.
In 1947 the house was nationalised and converted to an embassy.
After 1990 it became the headquarters of a political party, until
2010, when the building was returned to the successors of the
former owner, who subsequently sold it; the new owner intends
to use the house as a family residence and has decided to invest
in the rehabilitation of the building.
The villa has generous living spaces on two levels, a semi-
basement intended for secondary functions, and a large attic.
There is a large front garden and an inner court (figs.2, 3, 4). The
house preserves the original finishes, decoration and integrated
furniture (figs. 5, 6).
The building was generally well preserved; some decay symptoms
(mainly due to deficiencies of the water drainage system) were
locally visible.
Only minor changes were requested by the new users. The
architectural project4 preserved the spatial structure of the
building and gave prevalence to conservation, proposing:
─ few local modifications of partitions;
─ the conversion of the spaces in the basement and attic;
 5,6. The original finishes,
decoration and integrated
furniture of the Nicolae Caranfil’s
house.
202
─ the restoration of the original inner and exterior decorations
and artistic components (stone columns, decorative panels,
balustrades, etc.), integrated furniture, windows and doors in
wood and steel, inner and exterior floor finishes and pavements;
─ treatments against rising damp, the removal of biological
deposits and invasive vegetation;
─ the substitution of the old services and equipment, with
modern, more efficient ones;
─ the restoration of the garden according to the original design.
The masonry building structure with reinforced concrete slabs
didn’t present major decay symptoms; it passed successfully
through several strong earthquakes (three of them over 7 degrees
on the Richter scale). However, the construction had some
intrinsic vulnerabilities consisting of local vertical discontinuities
of certain load-bearing walls. The structural restoration project5
proposed interventions meant to correct the inherent defects of
the building and to improve its overall seismic behaviour:
─ the strengthening of the junction between façade and inner
cross-walls by inserting reinforcing steel bars and epoxy mortar
grout;
─ the strengthening of the façade walls with polymeric mesh
covered by hydraulic lime mortar;
─ the strengthening of the walls on the first floor that are
not directly supported on the ground floor and of the beams
supporting these walls, with carbon fibre strips and fabrics;
The restoration works were concluded in 20146.
(figs. 7, 8).
The second example is a one-family villa built in 1932 for Nicolae
Tabacovici, Director of the Statistics Department of the Ministry
of War, in an eclectic style featuring some local Art Deco elements
and a particular touch of traditionalism (fig. 9).
After nationalisation the house became the headquarter an
embassy. In 2004 the building was returned to the successors
of the initial owner, who sold it. In 2009 the villa became the
property of the current owner, who decided to restore it for his
family’s residential use.
The building is protected as an historic monument of local
interest.
The villa has a semi-basement, ground floor, one upper level and
a high attic; it is surrounded by a large garden (figs. 10,11). The
construction is in load-bearing masonry with wood and reinforced
concrete floors.
The diagnosis pointed out some inherent deficiencies:
─ in the upper part of the building, the wooden floor was unable
to restrain the walls’ movement arising from horizontal actions,
and in time the walls lost their verticality;
─ the reinforced concrete floors over the semi-basement and over
the ground floor had major intrinsic deficiencies:
─ in the slabs and beams, the concrete cover was insufficient and
on large areas the reinforcing bars were exposed and corroded
(fig. 12);
─ the concrete in the beams was segregated and had a reduced
strength, thus the beams were presenting cracks corresponding
to the casting joints;
─ the beam stirrups were positioned at large distances, thus the
beams were lacking shear resistance;
─ the end bearings of the lintels over the large door openings
were insufficient;
─ due to the soil settlement along the western façade (caused by
accidental water leaks), the cross-walls were presenting parabolic
cracks; the rotation tendency of the façade was amplified by the
outward thrust of the high roof.
The architectural project preserved7 the original spatial
composition of the building, adapting it to the new use
requirements through some local transformations (the creation
of new wall openings and closure of other ones, the demolition of
some partition walls, the introduction of new lightweight partition
walls, the introduction of an elevator connecting the four levels
of the building), as well as some rotations of the functions
assigned to certain spaces and the functional valorisation of
unused spaces (in the basement and attic). The existing exterior
finishes and decoration elements were preserved, subject to the
necessary restoration works. The interior finishes (which have
been repeatedly replaced over time) have been substituted with
new ones.
The attic was redesigned as an open space for rest and leisure;
thus, the existing roof structure (with many vertical supports)
was replaced with a new one with only four columns (fig. 13)8 ;
in this way the spatial flow has been increased, but certain walls
now have to carry major concentrated loads. At the same time,
the new heating and cooling equipment attached to the floors
has significantly increased the loads to be carried by the building
structure (fig. 14).
Up: 7,8. The restoration works
concluded in 2014.
Down left: 9. One-family villa built
in 1932 for Nicolae Tabacovici.
Down right: 10. External view and
internal view of the villa.
203
The structural project9 proposed interventions meant to
correct the intrinsic defects of the building described above
and to increase its strength capacity in order to cope with the
supplementary loads brought on by the changes in use:
─ the strengthening of the junction between façade and inner
cross-walls by insertion of reinforcing steel bars and epoxy mortar
grout;
─ the strengthening of the inner walls with 5cm reinforced
cement coating on both sides;
─ the enlargement of the foundations;
─ the stiffening of the wooden floor over the upper level with
5-7cm reinforced concrete topping (fig. 15);
─ the strengthening of the reinforced concrete floors by grouting
with epoxy resins and placing carbon fibre strips and fabrics on
the beams (fig. 16).
Geothermal heat pumps (inserted in the garden) and solar panels
(on the far side of the roof) were provided in order to improve the
energetic consume of the building in use, controlled by a Building
Management System which was implemented.
 11. External view and internal view Up and down left: 14, 15, 16.
of the villa. Particulars of the floors.

Down right: 12. Particular of In the ceter: 17. The restoration

corroded the reinforcing bars works were concluded in 2014

13. The attic of the villa Down right: 18, 19. Modernist
villa designed by Henriette
Delavrancea–Gibory, for Prof. Victor
Vâlcovici

204 205
The restoration works were concluded in 201410 (fig. 17).
The third example is a Modernist villa designed by Henriette
Delavrancea–Gibory11 in 1933, for Prof. Victor Vâlcovici,
mathematician and member of the Romanian Academy; his
successors sold the house to the current owners.
The building has semi-basement, ground floor, one upper level
and an attic. It is currently protected as an historic monument of
local interest.
The construction is of load-bearing masonry with reinforced
concrete floors consisting of a very thin slab (5cm) on beams
(about 15 x 25cm) at approximately 60cm spacing.
In 2002 the building was restored and its functionality was
improved for private residential use. The architectural project12
preserved the original partition of the house. The attic was NOTES
converted to living use and was designed as an open space for 1
In Romania (and not only), built heritage dating from the 20th century is
leisure. considered of low age value.2 https://
2
Feilden, B. M. 2003. Conservation of Historic Buildings. Oxford.
The structural intervention13 was dictated by the intrinsic defects 3
Octav Doicescu (1902–1981) is a well known Romanian architect, author of
and the damage to the existing floors and to some walls, as well many representative buildings and residences in Bucharest.
as by the additional loads due to the new use given to the attic. 4
Architectural project by arch. Cătălina Preda.
The existing concrete floors over the ground floor and over the
5
Structural project by eng. Mircea Crişan.
6
Survey drawings and photos provided by arch. Cătălina Preda.
upper level were strengthened with carbon fibre strips applied 7
Architectural project by arch. Virgil Apostol and arch. Ştefan Bâlici.
to the damaged beams after previous grouting of the cracks with 8
The new roof structure was designed and executed by Wood Beton s.p.a.
epoxy resins; the same treatment was applied to the beams over Gruppo Nulli, Italy.
the ground floor supporting walls without vertical continuity.
9
Structural project by, eng. Mircea Crişan.
10
Survey drawings provided by arch. Virgil Apostol and arch. Ştefan Bâlici.
On the masonry walls presenting thin cracks, diagonal carbon Photos by M. Crişan.
fibre strips were applied. 11
Henriette Delavrancea-Gibory (1894-1987) is a particular personality
Original elements – such as window frames, doors, interior within Romanian architecture, famous mainly for the villas she designed in
stairs and balustrades – were preserved and restored. The the interwar period.
12
Architectural project by Tomniţa Florescu.
exterior cement-lime plaster was remade, preserving the 13
Structural project by eng. Mircea Crişan.
original characteristics of composition, colour and texture 14
Photos by Mircea Crişan.
(figs. 18, 19)14.
The restoration works were concluded in 2003.
 “ST CATHERINE” NURSERY IN BUCHAREST: RESTORATION,
CONSOLIDATION AND VALORISATION
Ruxandra NEMȚEANU
206
In Bucharest, the capital of Wallachia, then of the United
Principalities, the area north of current Victoriei Square or
“the Head Road”, as it was called in the early 1800s, was the
place where the route to Mogoşoaia or, further on, over the
Carpathians, towards Braşov, started. The road was outlined
and terraced between 1832-1835 to ease the traffic of Russian
occupation troops, being named Şoseaua Kiseleff [Kiseleff
Avenue] as an homage to General Pavel Kiseleff.
Pavel Kiseleff is the one who undertook major steps to urbanize
and modernize Bucharest as a governor, to accomplish and
implement the fundamental act – the constitution – the Organic
Regulations, covering vital provisions for the city.
Documents show that the route was created by deforesting
and organizing the northern territory of the city. This urban
intervention regularized the image of the area, that took the
look of a cared-for and attracting place where the locals loved
to go for a walk. The road included two small squares named
Rond I and Rond II, which allowed a diversified traffic. Later on,
between 1845-1850, during the ruling of Gheorghe Bibescu
and Barbu Ştirbei and under the supervision of the German
landscaper Wilhelm Mayer, a park was arranged along the
avenue, to the right and to the left. The “Kiseleff Park” was the
first public park set in Bucharest.
Then the area developed, going through urbanistic and
architectural transformations related to the city trend to expand
more to the north, pushing the limit of the urban territory from
“the Head Road” to Rond III, placed at the north of the lakes,
where a racecourse would be later built after the project of
architect I. D. Berindei. As for Rond II, the square was created
at the junction of Salcia Street (later P. S. Aurelian/ Michurin
Blvd., today’s Marshal Averescu Blvd.) with Kiseleff Avenue
and Șos. Herăstrău (Calea Dorobanţi, then on the section up to
current Aviatorilor Blvd.: Aleea Trandafirilor/ Marshal Prezan
Blvd.), where in 1918 would be erected the provisional wooden
construction of a “Triumphal Arch” following the Parisian model
(Fig. 1, 2).
Specially built to mark the glorious entry in the capital of
victorious Romanian troops under the leadership of King
Ferdinand, in 1921-1922 the Triumphal Arch turned into a
permanent public monument of brick and stone, with the
contribution of architect Petre Antonescu. From this round area,
a short street was later drawn to connect the Square of the Arch
of Triumph with Mărăşti Blvd., outlining a star square, once again
after the Parisian model.
In the second half of the 19th century and in early 1900s,
other major public buildings were added to these meaningful
constructions. Along the first section of the Avenue, up to Rond
I, we find: “Grigore Antipa” Natural History Museum (1906),
the Geologic Institute (1906-1907, architect V.G. Ştefănescu),
and on the site of the former state mint, the National Art and
Ethnography Museum (1912-1929, architect N. Ghica-Budeşti).
The “St Catherine” establishment was among the first
compounds placed in the north of the capital, next to Rond
II – the Square of the Triumphal Arch and the adjoining road to
Kiseleff Avenue, outlined towards the green areas, to the future
Herăstrău Park. Especially built to shelter orphans and poor
mothers and their offspring, the former “St Catherine” Nursery
came out after 1950 under the name of “Nursery no. 1”, and
after 1990 as “St Catherine” Placement Centre1. The ensemble
is doubly protected, once on the list of Historical Monuments in
20042, regularly updated, and also through the Protected Built
Area no. 72 in Bucharest, Averescu Parcelling3.
This paper attempts to briefly outline its history, architecture,
restoration and valorisation, considering the fact that for 15
years substantial material and human efforts were dedicated
to rehabilitate this ensemble. In addition, we can say that this
year an initiated cycle will be completed with the start of the
execution of the design proposal for the adjoining park. I will
focus on pavilions on which I coordinated the works as head
project manager and expert of the Ministry of Culture in relation
to the restoration projects for: the main gate and the gate
pavilions Pp1 and Pp2, pavilion P2, pavilion P5, galleries, kitchen
pavilion, “St Catherine” Chapel and the park of the ensemble.
Establishment History
The former “St Catherine” Nursery is located in the north
of Bucharest, at the junction of current Marshal Averescu
Boulevard – Caşin Street – Kiseleff Avenue. At the date of its
construction, it came to fill in the need for social protection,
bringing a new model of behaviour and introducing a
programme never before approached by the local architecture.
The need to protect orphans is to be noted for the first time
during the ruling of Alexandru Ipsilanti (1774-1782; 1796-
1797) when an “orphanotrophion” was set up within a social
programme to feed and raise children, the “offspring of poor
parents”. The institution had two sections: one for the girls and
another for the boys, each with a shelter for 100 children.
During the 19th century, after the reunification of the
Principalities and the set-up of the modern state, the city hall,
among social establishments supported by community funding,
had already an orphanage, but it served exclusively elderly
children, while those under 1 year of age were cared for by
employed nannies, leading to a poor monitoring of their case.
The case of very young children remained a problem until the
moment when a group of ladies in the Bucharest elite decided to
set up an orphanage for children aged 0-2.
In the autumn of 1897, on 25 November, “St Catherine”
1. Current plan of the precincts of
“St Catherine” former Nursery and
Rond II with The Triumphal Arch
Square.
2. Current photo of Square and
Triumphal Arch
Photo credit: Serioja Bocsok, 2017
207
Nursery was set up as a private initiative, a society created
as an “institute to raise poor new-borns”. According to the
statute, “the nursery gets in its care children from poor parents,
impoverished by numerous offspring, children of poor peasants,
and those left without a mother”. Young mothers were received
to raise their children, with the purpose to keep their babies.
At first, in 1897, was rented a building in 17, Pache Protopopescu
with the capacity of 30 beds. The management was composed
only by ladies and included: Ecaterina G. Cantacuzino – Chair,
Teodora Văcărescu – Vice-Chair, Irina Cantacuzino – Treasurer, Dr
Toma Ionescu – Secretary; members included Moruzi, Olănescu,
Lamotescu, Vlasto, Lascăr, Grădişteanu, Costinescu, Monteoru,
Crissoveloni, Marghiloman, Dumitrescu, and Anghelescu,
these being the founding members. Queen Elisabeth was
Honorary Chair. Mihail Mirinescu served as the Doctor of the
establishment4.
Funding came only from private sources in the form of donations
in cash, in kind, membership fees, small grants, balls and parties
to support the society or lotteries, the cost of one child being
assessed at 760-800 lei/year to cover the expenses for nannies,
food, maintenance of the child, heating, lighting, doctor, and
medicines.
In 1899 there was an attempt to buy a plot to build a special
place for the institution. Through an initiative discussed in
the Parliament, it was offered a plot placed at the junction of
Salcia St. and Kiseleff St. and belonging to the “state estate of
Herăstrău”. In 1900, the establishment participated in the Paris
International Exhibition, and was awarded the gold medal.
Then, in 1906, it received an honorary diploma and a plaque at
Romania’s General Exhibition, taking place on the occasion of
the 40th jubilee of King Charles I.
Initially the home accommodated 30 children, but their number
 3. Façades – perspectives of St
Catherine ensemble, view from
the main entrance from the
construction permit in 1900, arch. I.
D. Berindei.
208
grew to 50. One third were children received with full funding,
while for the remaining two thirds a fee was paid, depending
on the material status of their parents. Starting from 1907, the
institute received a grant from the state (20,000 lei per year),
against the provision by the Nursery of 30 additional beds for
orphans.
The institution was under a special case during WWI. Then, one
pavilion was made available to the Red Cross. During that time,
children were supported via private funding from the Chair, Mrs
Ecaterina G. Cantacuzino. After the war, substantial donations
came from the American Red Cross. In 1922, the status of the
establishment changed according to the regulations imposed by
the Ministry of Labour and Social Protection, which took over
the management of the orphanage.
In recognition of the role played by “St Catherine” Nursery, on
the 25th anniversary of the foundation, in 1925, the great artist
George Enescu held an extraordinary concert at the Athenaeum
to support the society.
The establishment continued to work with the same
effectiveness, being mentioned in the 1933 Yearbook, along with
other two charities, “Materna”, in charge of children aged 0-7,
and “Queen Elisabeth”.
After 1948, “St Catherine” Nursery turned into a public
establishment funded by the state, keeping its profile, but
changing the name in “Nursery no.1” and “Centre for Social
Assistance”.
“St Catherine” Nursery Buildings History
26 May 1900 is the date when architect Wilhelm Bast submits
on behalf of Ecaterina C. Cantacuzino, the application to get
“the permit to build for the ‘St Catherine’ Nursery a building
complying with hygiene needs, except luxury on a plot offered
by the state (…) to the left of Kiseleff Avenue, at Rond II.” Mrs
Cantacuzino asks “the honourable City Hall to exempt the ‘St
Catherine’ Society from payment of construction and other
taxes… taking into account the humanitarian purpose it follows.”
The request is approved by the then Mayor of Bucharest, the
famous writer Barbu Ştefănescu Delavrancea, who motivates his
decision as follows: “both ‘St Catherine’ and ‘Materna’ nurseries
provide a real service to the City Hall. If the two nurseries
wouldn’t be able to host all those poor children, it would be City
Hall’s duty to receive them. Besides, I think it is a duty of the
community to encourage private initiative in matters of public
assistance, especially in our case where such initiatives are noted
as rare and when they emerge [31 May 1900]”, so that the
construction permit was granted with the exceptional exemption
of authorization taxation, “though there is no precedent”5.
The same document states that the building needs to comply
with legal provisions: “regulatory plans and in strict compliance
with art. 7 of the ‘City Urban Act’ to withdraw the building 10m
from the axis of the road as it was actually done. The building
will be though more withdrawn.” According to Construction
Permit no. 231 on 3 June 1900, “massive brick buildings worked
in plaster, covered in mortar, with latrines and systematic
sewerage with ventilation, according to regulation… [on a
surface of] 1,174.70 sq. m [and having]… one floor.” The plans
are undersigned by architect Ion D. Berindei, the family architect
of Ecaterina and Gheorghe Grigore Cantacuzino (Fig. 3).
In 1900, only a part of the buildings mentioned in the plans
attached to the construction permit were built, namely the
two entrance pavilions (Pp1 and Pp2), the Main Administration
Building, with a connecting corridor and the southern lateral
pavilion (P3). In 1901, the grant voted by the Parliament
of 50,000 lei led to the completion of new buildings of the
orphanage: the nursery, the former place for feeding bottles
(“biberonerie”) – kitchen. In 1901, St Catherine Chapel was
built thanks to personal funds donated by Irina Ghica, born
Cantacuzino, Ecaterina Cantacuzino’s daughter.
In 1908, through funds coming from Chair Ecaterina Cantacuzino,
Irina Ghica’s testament (prematurely deceased) and other
donations, a new pavilion (P4) was built, symmetrical with
the southern one (P3), of which it copied as a mirror the plan,
though it is signed by the architect-engineer Grigore Cerchez
(mentioned as Cerkez in the plan), for which on 8 May 1907 a
new construction permit is granted in relation to a building with
a capacity of 50 beds and a laundry equipped with a mechanical
system (Fig. 4, 5).
In 1914, the Chair of the board, Mrs Ecaterina Cantacuzino,
donates other funds to build an infirmary to the left of the
entrance (pavilion P1) and to repair the existing ones.
According to the description given on the occasion of the 25th
anniversary, in 1925 the institution consisted of the following
buildings:
“At the entrance, to the right, there is the gatekeeper’s house,
to the left, the children’s reception and a medical office (…) The
institute consists of one administration building, the main body,
connected by two galleries to two pavilions. The administration
includes: the chancery, the laboratory, the dining rooms for staff
and nannies, and a room for linen. On the first floor, staff rooms,
and in the basement, the kitchen, the room for feeding bottles
and pantry.
The pavilions have similar functions: after a hall with cabinets
there is a long hall with 3 rooms for children (64 beds). At the
end there are: the bathroom for the children, the bathroom
for the nannies, and the toilet. The first floor has 4 rooms for
nannies, 4 rooms in the infirmary, one quarantine room for
4, 5. Photos of the time (about
1904) with the first pavilions built
after the project of arch. I. D.
Berindei.
209
children, one infirmary for nannies and the room of the intern”6.
Connected to the administration, to the back, there was an
amphitheatre and the chapel, all connected by doors, having
a direct axial circulation of children from bedrooms to the
classroom-amphitheatre, then to the chapel, for prayers. In
the back of the main building, in the yard, there was “a laundry
equipped with a mechanical system, stables, one office and a
mortuary room for necropsy.”
Two access routes, for pedestrians and for vehicles, enabled -
and continue to enable to this date – the flow to the interior, one
from Mărăşeşti Street, and another, the main one, from Marshal
Averescu Blvd., former P. S. Aurelian (Fig. 6, 7).
In 1926, two independent pavilions (P1 and P2) were built to the
left and to the right of the entrance by the architect J. Mandi.7
These are buildings with a ground floor and a first floor with
rooms for mothers and children. They are symmetrical buildings,
placed next to each other, with two independent staircases
connected between the buildings. The structural frame consisted
of a main brick wall with reinforced concrete floors, wooden
framework, shingle roofing, woodwork, simple interior and
exterior plaster, and simple mosaic floor in the halls, the medical
cabinets, toilets, kitchen, and moquette in the playing rooms or
bedrooms. The window and door frames are simple, preserving
the symmetry, the only decoration being in the upper floor
windows, of apparent brick work.
The functional distribution of the P1 pavilion provides two
entrances, perfectly symmetrical, a secondary working entrance,
with access to the heater on the mezzanine, and two slightly
balanced staircases at each end of the two corridors of the
symmetrical main entrances, four rooms (bedrooms and playing
rooms for small children) and the corresponding kitchen – on
the ground floor, toilets and medical offices for babies – on the
 6. Photos of the time (post 1907),
pavilion built after the project of
arch. Grigore Cerchez, simetrical
to the pavilion built by arch. I. D.
Berindei.
7. Extract from Bucharest map
guide of 1923; the ensemble had
pavilions Pp1, Pp2, 3 and 4, the
main pavilion, the Amphitheatre
pavilion, the chapel, two
connecting galleries, and the
“Kitchen” pavilion already built.
210
upper floor. The distribution of P2 pavilion is similar to that of
P1 pavilion, the partition of the pavilion being two connected
buildings, blind wall next to each other, symmetrical under the
same roof.
In 1934, architect I. Costinescu designed Pavilion P58 with rooms
and bedrooms for the babies. These are pavilions to the north
and to the south of the chapel (P5 and P6), connected to the
main pavilion through new symmetrical galleries. Also during
this time, were built the pavilion to the right of the gate (P2) and
the entrance pavilions (Pp1 and Pp2).
All these pavilions follow more or less the Neo-Romanian style,
with common features: ceramic roofing, shingles, arches over
the doors-windows in apparent brick, girdles of cogs in apparent
brick, wood corbels at the roof edge, roofing on wooden corbels.
After 1977, was completed pavilion P7: laundry, kitchen (in the
former nursery) and the installation of the heating system.
Architect I.D. Berindei and family Gheorghe Gr. Cantacuzino
Architect Ion D. Berindei (1871-1928), one of the major
personalities of Romanian architecture in the late 19th - early
20th century, carried out his professional activity mainly
in Bucharest. Trained at the École des Beaux Arts in Paris
(graduated in 1897) in the spirit of the academic eclecticism, he
completed ample works, the main programme he serves being
the one-family housing for high ranked individuals. He was the
son of architect Dumitru Berindei9 (1832-1884), a graduate of
the same École de Beaux Arts in Paris (1859). Dumitru Berindei
was Minister of Public Works between 1870-1871 under the
Ghica government, and a deputy in the Romanian Parliament.
He was born the same year as Gheorghe Gr. Cantacuzino10 - the
Nabob; both studied in Paris during the same period, and later
were elected in the Parliament. These circumstances led to
a close friendship between the two, which materialized with
the choice of Ion Berindei, son of Dumitru, as the architect of
the family residence. Gheorghe Grigore Cantacuzino Palace on
Victoriei Street was erected according to the plans of the 31
years old architect in the academic eclectic style mixed with Art
Nouveau, fashionable at that time in France. The Palace was
meant to serve as home for Nabob’s son, Mihai G. Cantacuzino,
also a major political figure, of close age as the architect. The
project of the palace was authorized through the construction
permit no.20 of June 12, 190211, soon after I. D. Berindei had
designed the “St Catherine” Nursery.
One of the first works of the young architect was the villa of the
general Arion, located on the newly-drawn Colţea Boulevard
(1897). The G.G. Cantacuzino Palace on Calea Victoriei, today’s
G. Enescu Museum, is an impressive work for its monumentality,
the original arrangement of the spaces, the elegance and
ampleness of decoration. Among the other projects that
followed, deserve to be mentioned: the Admiral Urseanu House
(meant to serve as astronomy observatory) on Colțea Boulevard,
currently Lascăr Catargiu Boulevard; the Assan House in
Alexandru Lahovari Square, currently property of the Romanian
Academy; the Al.G. Florescu House in Clopotarii Vechi Street,
now home of the Cultural Centre of Germany “J.W. Goethe” in H.
Coandă Street; the Toma Stelian House on 10, Kiseleff Avenue;
the Grigore Filipescu House on 40, Nicolae Filipescu Street. The
architect was also responsible of other special programmes such
as the (no longer present) racecourse in the Avenue.
I. D. Berindei completes with “St Catherine” Nursery an unusual
architectural programme in the collection of Romanian architect
to that date, in line with European models, a remarkable work
for the originality of partition and the way it sorted out a
new social function. The Nursery was followed by the Queen
Elizabeth Care Centre, an establishment for disabled people.
The functions of shelter, feeding, and optimal raising of infant
orphans were expressed in the shaping of pavilions and interior
spaces, with short connections between the pavilions, fitted with
the necessary equipment to comply with hygiene, education
and development requirements, a direct connection to the park,
a permanent communication between the various rooms to
ensure the necessary contact ‘mothers’-children. Remarkable is
also the structural design, the adaptation of pavilions and the
use of the building materials available at the time: brickwork,
wood, metal and glass. Stylistically, the project stands as the first
Berindei’s work influenced by the Neo-Romanian style.
After the death of her husband, Ecaterina G. Cantacuzino
continued, albeit at a reduced pace, the estate works of her
husband. Nonetheless, together with her daughter, married
Ghica, she still added new pavilions in the nursery, contacting
another architect, no less famous, such as Grigore Cerchez, who
followed the conceptual imprint of Berindei’s ensemble.
St Catherine’s Nursery Restoration
Today, the ensemble is made of twelve pavilions, ten of
which are declared a historical monument, composing a well-
structured architectural compound. Six of them are connected
by two symmetrical galleries, representing the original core of
the ensemble.
The architectural composition follows a symmetry axis
perpendicular to Marshal Averescu Blvd., heaving as view head
the current administration pavilion (the first built in 1900),
currently the Marriage Registry Office of Sector 1. Placed in the
heart of the precincts, the central pavilion (main administration
office) is linked to the back with the amphitheatre and further
on with the chapel (dating from 1901), therefore making the
211
plan look like a tentacular-extended body. Remarkable is the
plan attached to the 1900 Construction Permit, signed by I.
D. Berindei, which provides the functions of pavilions in the
ensemble. Today, four of the pavilions built at the same time or
later (P3, P4, P5, and P6) flank the main administration pavilion
(central pavilion) to the left and to the right of the symmetry
axis, being connected by it via roofed galleries, after this
planimetric setup. Currently the ensemble has one park with old
trees, some of which are century-old specimen. At the debut of
constructions, 1900, the plot was unplanted, pristine.
Between 1974-1985, a new pavilion of 200 beds was added
to the ensemble, together with a laundry. The building of the
kitchen, although as old as the Main Office, if not older (1897),
was modified in the 1970s; after its restoration in 2014, it was
re-made in a shape reminding the old building’s architecture.
Today, the park and the buildings belonging to the compound
are owned by the Local Council of Sector 1 and are in the
administration of the General Directorate of Social Assistance
and Child Protection of Sector 1, Bucharest.12 The building
has been declared a historical monument (number B-II-
a-B-182026)13, following the request of the Ministry of Culture
and Cults, Directorate for Culture, Cults and National Cultural
Heritage of Bucharest, no. 1211/17.08.2005.
Starting from 2001, before it was declared a historical
monument, a feasibility study was undertaken by one of the
former planning institutes14, producing modernization projects
and the first rehabilitation works in the precincts.
Before 2004, when the ensemble was declared protected
heritage by the Ministry of Culture, two old pavilions in the
precincts were modernized and reverted to their original
function, one as a kindergarten (P1) and the other as a
structure for children with special needs (P4). The old place to
 8, 9. Photos during consolidation
and restoration (2012) of pavilions
Pp1 and Pp2 (Ruxandra Nemțeanu,
2012).
On the next page:
10. Photos during consolidation
and restoration (2012) of pavilions
Pp1 and Pp2 (Ruxandra Nemțeanu,
2012).
11, 12. Photos after restoration of
pavilion Pp1 (2014) and Triumphal
Gate (2014) (Ruxandra Nemțeanu,
2014; Serioja Bocsok, 2017).
212
accommodate orphans by age groups was already out-dated as
a system. For this reason, all pavilions have been reworked into
service and office areas, while assisted children were moved
in villas especially designed for them, integrated in the city,
enjoying a system of parental (surrogate) families.
With the change of its basic function, the ensemble was
modernized in spaces of specialized services to serve people
under difficulty or institutionalized individuals. The park
stretches on a surface of 23,940 sq. m, while the built surface
totals 6,180.79 sq. m. Today, the ensemble stands at the junction
of 17, Marshal Averescu Blvd. from Mărăști Blvd. and Alexandru
Constantinescu Street (former Câmpina), has three access
routes, a main one in Marshal Averescu and two secondary ones.
Restoration works started with the Main Building15 (2004) and
with the first buildings, the triumphal gate and the two buildings
symmetrically placed on each side of the gate structure (2009).
The common decoration for most of the historical pavilions is
the apparent brick placed at the window frames and the door
gaps, as well as under the cornice, on wood consoles, nicely
polished. These colourful decoration contrast the white of the
plaster. The pavilions restored in 2007-2014 have returned to
the plaster based on hydraulic lime and aggregate of limestone
powder. The apparent brick was cleaned from the multiple paint
layers and the gaps (broken or damaged parts) were filled.16
Inside, all buildings were treated with modesty due to the
obvious lack of funding. An exception was the chapel, which was
internally decorated by the painter Ioanid. For these reasons, the
major changes at all the pavilions consisted of changing interior
staircases, making it possible to use them as fire escapes. These
were all balanced, set up in narrow spaces, had low steps (15 cm
high), and were difficult to use, while the toilets were small and
unsanitary. I will focus in particular on the buildings that were
restored under my supervision as head of the restoration project
and lead architect.
The entrance pavilions 1 and 2 (Pp1 and Pp2) and Triumphal
gates17 make up a coherent group perceived as a small sub-
ensemble. They were introduced together with the first buildings
of the precincts, the main administrative office and the two
pavilions to its left and to its right (P3 and P4). The entrance
pavilions show an identical plan and are symmetric in regard
to the main gate, playing an administrative, monitoring and
safety role for the whole building ensemble. They are placed
along Marshal Averescu Blvd. and have one ground floor.
During the inter-war era, they were extended with one more
room, turning the rectangular plan into an L-shaped form.
Through the restoration project and intervention, the façades
were restored to their original state. Decorations in apparent
brickwork placed in the window and door gaps were cleaned
and restored, the structure frame made from load-bearing
masonry was consolidated by casting reinforced concrete
belts, wood flooring and framing were replaced. The damaged
shingle roofing was replaced with ceramic shingles, as in all the
precincts buildings. The severely damaged double woodwork
was replaced by an exact replica, but in the interior frame was
placed a double-glazed window in elastic silicone in the same
colour as the woodwork. On the whole perimeter, under the
floor tiles, Freezteq solution sticks18 were used to horizontally
combat capillary damp in the wall masonry. Both externally and
internally, were used plasters of hydraulic lime; externally, the
hydraulic lime was mixed with limestone powder – based on
a Hasit recipe19. The pavilions are solidarily connected by two
triumphal gates whose upper sections are decorated with arches
of apparent brick and a wood framing with ceramic tiles. The
massive wood consoles of the cornice are decorated with cogs.
The mobile gate parts, modified long ago, were remade with
square section profiles, based on the initial model of the massive
wood gates. The functional distribution of the two pavilions
is made from the following rooms: room – hall, with access to
working office – gate (entrance) and auxiliary room, office –
main room (Fig. 8, 9, 10, 11, 12).
Pavilion 1, the initial pavilion of a crèche organized on age
groups, was built around 1926. The pavilion has a semi-
basement height, ground floor and upper floor. Unfortunately, at
this pavilion the intervention was made before it was declared
a historical monument, so it was modernized and finished with
contemporary materials. In terms of volume it is the same
building, yet… modernized with white plastic double-glazed
windows.
Pavilion 2, symmetrical to pavilion P1, had the chance to be
restored, at that moment being already declared a historical
monument. The pavilion underwent a change of function, being
initially a shelter for poor mothers with infants. If there were
administrative offices at ground floor, the upper floor had halls.
The architecture of the pavilion, initially built in 1926 in the style
of the first pavilions, with one ground floor and an attic, was
later extended in the inter-war era by one additional floor and
an attic, with a decoration treated in a simplified way, but taking
into consideration that all pavilions had a strip of apparent brick;
this was placed between the twin rooms at the upper floor. The
restoration and consolidation considered changes in time, but
attempted to render a certain patina.
The framing, made in brick load-bearing masonry with
reinforced concrete flooring, wood framing, shingle roofing,
213
woodwork, simple interior and exterior plaster, simple mosaic
on halls, in toilets, offices, would hide the old arching revealed
only via de-roofing for consolidation - restoration.20 The window
frames are simple, preserving the symmetry, the only decorative
element being the strip from apparent brickwork at the upper
windows (Fig. 13, 14, 15).
Pavilion 3 and Pavilion 4 are symmetrical buildings with the role
of a crèche, with a partial basement, ground floor, partial upper
floor and partial attic, one built in 1900 (P3) and the other in
1907 (P4); P421 was restored in 2004, while P3 was rehabilitated
in 2002. They are buildings with specific decorations within
the ensemble: window frames in apparent brickwork and
alternation of shingle roofing with impact on the volumetry.
The frame structure was made of brick masonry, wood flooring,
wood framing, shingle roofing, woodwork, simple mosaic and
moquette in halls and bedrooms; tiles and mosaic in kitchens
and toilets, simple plaster internally and externally. The window
frames are highlighted by apparent brick arches at the upper
section and a simple register frame at the lower section of the
opening. The pavilion P3 was functionally organized as follows:
a corridor with direct access to halls (bedrooms), toilets and
kitchens at the opposite end of the access area – the connecting
building on two floors with the space – a corridor leading to the
administrative office.
Closed galleries22 connecting the administrative office
pavilions P3 and P4. The connection structures between the
administrative office and the pavilions P3 and P4, with ground
floor and a technological basement, have a special architecture
with decorative elements reminding of the Neo-Romanian style
repertoire. The interior has no special decorations: Venetian
 On the current page:
Up: 13. Photo pavilion P2 after
restoration (Serioja Bocsok, 2017).
Down: 14, 15. Proposal for northern
façade and ground floor plan of
Pavilion 2, 2014.
On the next page:
Up: 16, 17, 18. Photos of gallery
interiors, during (2014) and after
restoration (2015,2017) Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, 2014,2015; Serioja
Bocsok, 2017.
214 Down: 19. Main façade of the main
administrative pavilion connected
by galleries to pavilion 3; plan from
construction permit of 1900, arch. I.
D. Berindei.
20. Photo of enameled cermaics
over the tripartite window from
the axis of the main administrative
pavilion (Serioja Bocsok, 2017).
mosaic flooring, simple plaster, wood framing and woodwork,
shingle roofing. On the whole length, the interior is naturally
lighted through arches supported by solid pillars with the
masonry base of the rampart which contain windows that
occupy the precise openings of the arches, highlighted by the
same apparent brickwork with existing capstone at the other
pavilions. The galleries connecting the pavilions preserve the
function of passage and access to the ground floor, while a
technical corridor runs in the basement. The space contoured
by these is closed and equipped with heating system after
restoration: measures for safe lighting and traffic were taken,
and access platforms were rehabilitated. The galleries with
basement and ground floor were built in stages in 1900, 1926
and 1936, when they connected all buildings. The area of 32 sq.
m. shows the size of these galleries in the plan. They are almost
unique in the architecture of pavilion buildings in Bucharest. The
structural framing consists of load-bearing masonry, closures of
metal and glass profiles, made during that period, framed and
apparent wood roof structure and shingle roofing. The wood
frame was obstructed by a false ceiling and was removed during
restoration, so that this wood structure is visible (Fig. 16, 17, 18).
The Main Administrative Office, a symmetrical building as
layout, with an administrative role; semi-basement, ground
floor and upper floor height, with decorations in apparent brick,
similar to those found in the galleries and in pavilions P3 and P4.
Decorative elements are present at the access window and main
door. The main entrance is highlighted by a frame with the name
“St Catherine” inscribed on it and, above, a colourful bas-relief
with an angel protecting mother and child. The main façade of
the authorized project in 1900 shows the following features:
monumental staircase in natural stone (Albești Quarry, Argeș
county) at the entrance; treatment of the woodwork at the
main entrance door, showing a putto on top; iron bulwark at the
upper floor windows and in the loggia over the main door. The
door at the main entrance is flanked by two monumental pillars,
marking the corners of the avant-corps of the main building.
Interiors do not exhibit special decorations: floorings are finished
215
with marble in the corridors, parquet in the office spaces and
ordinary tiles in the toilets. Functional partition of the ground
floor: access corridor with offices on either side, toilet, storage
space, staircase to the upper floor placed in one of the offices,
direct access to the corridor connecting with P3 and P4,
amphitheatre; at the upper floor and attic, spaces are meant for
offices (Fig. 19, 20, 21, 22).
Pavilion Amphitheatre,23 located in direct connection with the
ground floor of the Main Building and next to the Chapel, was
divided as follows: at the basement – storage spaces, woodwork
workshop, space for an out-of-work circuit panel, space for an
out-of-work heating system; at the ground floor and loft – toilet,
storage, amphitheatre with a ramp and fixed benches. As a result
of restoration and reworking, the spaces were transformed as
follows: at the basement – meditation room (11.5 sq. m.) with
toilet (3.7 sq. m.); at the upper floor – meeting room (32.8 sq.
m.) with annexed storage rooms (11.4 sq. m.), archive (3.9 sq.
m.) and one office (6,8 sq. m.).
The amphitheatre has a capacity of 75 people, the room has one
ground floor and a partial first floor with a structural framing
of load-bearing masonry. At the ground floor and first floor, the
space of the amphitheatre was turned into a multi-functional
room with an integrated staircase and toilet for disabled
persons. The room is equipped with video projector and sound
system, and finishings were designed in order to ensure good
acoustics. Selected furniture allows several types of activities:
courses, conferences, meetings and projections. Also, the
lighting and natural light obstruction systems ensure a good
room usage for video projection, as well as for training courses.
“St Catherine” Chapel. As for the chapel, the construction was
 21. Photo of massive wood putti
over the main pavilion entrance
(Serioja Bocsok, 2017).
22. Current photo of the main
façade of the main administrative
pavilion (Serioja Bocsok, 2017).
216
integrated in the Amphitheatre pavilion and main administration
office, belonging organically to them. Having a club form as
layout, it respects the classical Orthodox order, narthex – nave
– altar, but the altar faces the north. At the interior, the painted
caps over the three apses and the main cap of the central vault
show the original paintings of Ion Ioanid24, who decorated all
the chapel walls, of which only some oil fragments are left.
These were saved from being destroyed during communism
thanks to believers who hid the painting with a false ceiling.
The chapel, probably the only case in Bucharest, after 1945,
with the advent of the communist regime, was turned into the
laundry of the Nursery. Only after 1990, the chapel was given
back its original function and, with the care of the Directorate,
its restoration began in 2012.25 The chosen approach intended to
keep alive the on-going memory of that communist aggression
of the establishment by not removing the wooden boards which
supported the false ceiling that hid the Pantocrator image. This
framework was meant as a witness: a grid through which the
painting can be seen. These fragments of oil paint have been
restored26 and valorised. By way of comparison, we provide
photos taken before and after the restoration, so as to show the
conservation state due to the passage of time. However, these
fragments had the chance to escape from complete destruction.
At the exterior, the chapel was decorated with a cornice
with decorated friezes and a twisted rope belt, in the spirit
of the traditional Romanian repertoire. Having said that, the
overall look of the façades of the chapel are rather seen as an
expression of the beaux-arts eclecticism. The chapel followed
the tradition of the Orthodox cult, even if the aisles are
divergent, with no tower. Initially it could be accessed from the
amphitheatre and from the yard on the Western side. Today,
the chapel can be accessed only from the yard. The entrance is
marked by two pillars whose capitals are decorated with floral
motives. The 9 windows have frames with an arched profile,
with the arch as an accolade over the Roman arch. In the upper
section, over the window frames, runs a richly decorated belt.
Over the narthex, the central space is over-raised and externally
exhibits a second row of arches, highlighted by two semi-round
profiles, followed by a cornice identical to the one in the apses.
Internally, there was nothing left from the flooring and the
plastering of the original walls; only the painting preserved
from the cap of the narthex, covered by a false ceiling, and
other traces of painting were partially found in the apses of the
church. The original metal work, with decoration and protection
grills, has been restored. On this support, new stained-glass
windows were completed27, in line with the architecture of the
window grills and the interior space.
It can be interesting to note that during the sample extraction28
that was carried out in order to determine the composition of
the external plaster, a new plaster layer was found over the
exterior brick masonry, in the open areas and rails, and over
them – a lime-cent layer! The attractively decorated capitals with
stalks and acanthus leaves were made of plaster. Initially, it was
thought that they were of Roman cement – Parker, and only later
it turned out to be waterproof plaster (the lack of consistent
funding had its impact!). The small cross with even arms had
been removed by the communists, except for one of the capitals
in a hardly visible niche. To consolidate the chapel, because of
exterior and interior decoration (the remaining painted areas),
hidden vertical drillings were selected as the most convenient
option,29 thereby filling in the brick walls with reinforcement and
fluid concrete (about 30 drills), with connections via belts at the
foundation and cornice with reinforced concrete. The external
and internal plaster was completed with the same material:
mortar based on hydraulic lime. Externally was added natural
stone powder (Fig. 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28).
Pavilions P5 and P6. The two buildings are symmetrical; pavilion
5 was built in 193430, the plans being signed by architect I.
Costescu. They had the role of halls-bedrooms for children
aged 0-2, family flats in the attic and feeding working spaces.
The height included, and still includes, basement, ground
floor, two floors, and attic. They were in brick load-bearing
masonry, reinforced concrete flooring, wood framing and
woodwork, shingle roofing. The interiors had similar finishings,
with no special decorations, lime-cement plasters, of simple
mosaic flooring. Both pavilion 5 (P5), as well as pavilion 6
(P6) are connected to the Main Administrative Building and
the Amphitheatre via closed galleries on the ground floor.
Restoration works at pavilion 5 took place in 2004-200731. After
restoration-consolidation and the remaking of installations, the
pavilion includes the following functions: basement – storage
areas, workshops, technical space; ground floor – cashier’s
Up: 23. Façade pathology of St
Catherine Chapel.
Down: 24, 25. Photos before
(2013)18 and after the restoration
(2017) of St Catherine Chapel
(Ruxandra Nemțeanu, 2013; Serioja
Bocsok, 2017).
217
desk, offices, toilets, staircases to the first floor and basement,
working spaces; first floor – offices, toilets, staircases to
upper floor and basement, working spaces; attic – offices. The
spaces were partially changed, to re-functionalize the building,
especially the basement, where, due to consolidation, the
spaces were considerably enlarged by sub-building exterior
walls. Of the original construction, there remained a corridor
in the basement – technically a median, about 2.20 m high, to
connect the widened ends of the pavilion, to cross installations
from one end to the other. The structural expert opted to
balance the long end of the pavilion with a sub-walling of the
ground floor foundations at the exterior walls, with foundations
of about 1 m deep comparing to the corridor in the basement,
and the foundations of the existing corridor were sub-walled
up to -2.50 m. Cells which could turn into technical workshops
in the basement were created under the spaces of the ground
floor, separated by diaphragms. A door gap emerged between
the cells and towards the corridor to be accessed.
At the ground floor, the ends of diaphragms and the lamellar
 Up: 26. Stained – window
iconographic disposition of St
Catherine Chapel.
Down: 27, 28. Photos of original
painting of I. Ioanid on the
Pantocrator’s cap, before (2013)
and after restoration (2017); the
boards supporting the false ceiling
to mask lithurgical painting in the
communist era (1949-1989) were
preserved as an ongoing memory
(Ruxandra Nemțeanu, 2015; Serioja
Bocsok, 2017).
218
pillars edging the corridor and the old rooms for infants were
consolidated, as they were poorly reinforced and suffered a
serious impact during the earthquake of 4 March 1977. At
the time the cracks were simply mended and some sort of
buttresses were unaesthetically added to the exterior corners
of the pavilion, which, however, did not structurally improve
earthquake reaction. Such unaesthetic additions were removed
during the restoration.
The façades and the plan typology represent the architectural
value of the pavilion. The interventions on this building
consisted, as far as the interior spaces are concerned, in the
remaking of the vertical access routes (the staircases were
very narrow and hardly accessible) and the removal of exterior
and interior plastering which had already been replaced with
cement-based mortars. Inside, the ground floor rooms (the old
bedrooms) were left almost identical in terms of size and shape;
in the corridor, among pillars and bulwarks, there were large
openings used to supervise the children. This design detail was
kept during restoration: the type of wood was changed with
similar shapes and sanded double-glazed windows were installed
to restrict visibility in the spaces now transformed into offices.
The consolidation project was designed in such a way as
to intervene only in the interior with partial guniting and
consolidation structures. Partial gunite coverings were proposed
and two transversal diaphragms of reinforced concrete were
added, the rest of re-partitioning being in light plaster and board
walls.
Externally, the parasite elements were removed and the
painting was taken away from the frieze with apparent brick
cogs under the cornice, which over time had been covered with
plaster. As a testimony of this detail, which renders colour and
harmony with the other pavilions, a photo from the inter-war
era is showed. Also, the double wood windows were restored,
while their woodwork and ironwork had to be conserved for
the historical aspect of the building. The interior frames were
replaced for thermic and acoustic proofing with massive wood
frames, to preserve the original model, but equipped with
double-glazed windows. The attic was fully mansard-roofed and
turned into a space for offices. The zenithal light via the existing
skylights was preserved, but these were re-created based on
the original models. The interiors were simply painted with
specialized materials (HASIT) based on hydraulic lime, specific
for historical buildings. Similarly, the plaster for the exterior was
based on hydraulic lime and natural stone powder using the
range of products of the above-mentioned company. Finally,
the pavilion was occupied by the Directorate for the Prevention
of Marginalization, with counselling rooms for psychologists,
offices, toilets, two new staircases and fire escape (Fig. 26, 27,
28).
The kitchen pavilion32, placed on the site of the former crèche,
a building serving for a long while as kitchen for the whole
ensemble in which the meals for children of various age groups
were prepared. Composed of a ground floor and a first floor, its
structure is in brick masonry with reinforced concrete flooring,
framing and woodwork, shingle roofing, simple mosaic flooring
and marble on staircases and corridors, simple plaster and paint
Up: 26. Façades from the
construction permit of pavilion P5
(1934).
Down: 29, 30. Photos before
(2015) and after restoration of
pavilion kitchen (2017) (Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, 2015; Serioja Bocsok,
2017).
219
work on the walls.
According to request no. 121/17 August 2005 of the Ministry
of Culture and Cults, Directorate for Culture, Cults and National
Cultural Heritage of Bucharest, it comes out that, in accordance
with the provisions of O.M.C.C. no. 2607/2003, published
in Romania’s Official Monitor, first section no.567/2003,
“construction areas laundry, kitchen and pavilion 7” do not
have the legal status of a historical monument, but are in the
protection area of pavilions which are a historical monument.
The pavilion was changed from “feeding bottles building”
(“biberonerie”) to kitchen, storage space etc. Initially named
as “biberonerie”, after the secondary role it had in the past,
currently it hosts an archive on the ground floor, and the
offices of the precincts administration on the first floor. The
construction has a regulated shape as layout. Apparently the
kitchen pavilion was the first to be built in 1897; for sure is
one of the oldest buildings, initially used as a remise hall. The
construction currently has a mansard, and the roof has a wood
framing and shingle roofing. The access from the ground floor
 On the current page:
29, 30. Photos before (2015) and
after restoration of pavilion kitchen
(2017) (Ruxandra Nemțeanu, 2015;
Serioja Bocsok, 2017).
On the next page:
31, 32. Perspectives of design
proposal for organising space next
to the St Catherine Chapel with
a tower bell, benches and candle
stand.
220
to the first floor and the attic is ensured by a new reinforced
concrete staircase with two direct flights. The façades of the
building were remade (and radically changed) in 1984, during
consolidation works in the kitchen area. In 2014, they were
restored and returned to their original look (Fig. 29, 30).
Pavilion 7 is not an historical monument, being the newest
building of the ensemble. It has administrative rooms, one
basement, ground floor, 3 floors and an attic. On the façade,
there are geometrically-shaped decorations in the spirit of
the 1970s, completely inadequate with respect to the other
pavilions.
The park of the ensemble: given its age - 118 years - and the
continuity of its existence in parallel with historical pavilions, it
represents a background and environmental area to back their
history. The park is the last objective to benefit from restoration
within the whole historical monument ensemble; a complex
intervention started 15 years ago by virtue of the commitment
of the beneficiary to an ongoing funding effort, which was
consistently maintain33.
The park of St Catherine Nursery was detailed in 3 distinct areas
for restoration34 and valorised as follows:
• The main access area, organised around the central axis of
triumphal gates, organised into a pedestrian route, with seats and
vegetation, serving the Main Administration Pavilion, a parking
area to serve pavilions P3 and P4, as well as the rehabilitation of
existing green areas and the proposal of two new green alleys, for
a better connection of the traffic area and the parking lots with
the Main Pavilion and the pedestrian area next to it.
• The playground, currently separated by the rest of the park
through a wood fence, serving the kindergarten in pavilion P1
• The area between pavilions P5, P6 and P7 and the former
kitchen was equipped with a pedestrian access around the
chapel, to valorise the architectural monument. Several urban
elements were proposed in the space: a bell tower, a candle cabin
and a resting area with benches, designed in accordance with the
historical monument of the chapel.
(Fig. 31, 32)
The aim was to valorise the protected tree species existing on
the site, preserving the “Alley of Chestnut trees” in the southern
section of the park, connecting the main access area with the
pedestrian area around the chapel, and the trees which masque
the high pedestals of the pavilions, which can easily be spoiled
due to weather and temporary traffic. The project aims to
preserve and valorise existing trees and bushes on site, with the
intent of removing a few wild and worthless bushes with the
purpose of a better visibility and perspective of the pedestrian
courses in the ensemble.
And, as in any restoration carried out over a long period of
time, there’s the issue of the upkeep of the ensemble and
the comeback to certain materials which meanwhile become
damaged, so that maintenance and conservation stand as a
continuous operation over time.
REFERENCES
National Archives, Directorate of Bucharest (ANIC-DMBAN), Fond Primăria
municipiului Bucureşti-Tehnic, File 261/1900. “Autorizaţie dată doamnei
Ecatherina Cantacuzino de a construi casa pentru leagănul Sfânta Ecaterina în
şoseaua Salcia.” [Permit to Mrs Ecaterina Cantacuzino to build a house for St
Catherine Nursery in Salcia Street]
Archives of Bucharest City Hall (APMB), Fond Primăria municipiului Bucureşti-
Tehnic, Leagănul „Sfânta Ecaterina” imediat la 25 mai 1897. Dare de seamă pe
timp de 8 ani. 25 noiembrie 1897 – 25 noiembrie 1905. Bucureşti, Ed. Minerva,
1906. [St Catherine Nursery, 25 may 1897. Report for 8 years: 25 November
1897 – 25 November 1905]
Dare de seamă jubiliară de 25 de ani a Leagănului Sfânta Ecaterina. Fondat la
221
25 noiembrie 1897, recunoscut ca persoană morală şi juridică la 16 decembrie
1897...Bucureşti, Ed. Cartea Românească, [1922].[Jubilee report at 25 years of St
Catherine Nursery. Founded on 25 November 1897, admitted as moral and legal
entity on 16 December 1897… Bucharest, Cartea Românească, [1922]
DAME, Frederic, Bucarest en 1906. Bucureşti, 1907, p. 311.
Dr. Cezara Mucenic, arch. Engineer Aurora Târşoagă, Bucharest Municipal
Museum, A Historical Study, typewritten manuscript, 2004.
NOTES
1
Project name: Re-organising and infrastructure works at the “St Catherine”
Placement Centre no. 1, 17, Marshal Antonescu, Bucharest, Sector 1, and
Beneficiary: General Directorate for Social Protection and Child Protection,
Sector 1. Site: 17, Marshal Averescu, Bucharest. General design: Ruxandra
Nemțeanu Architecture Office
2
Latest update in 2015 includes, globally, the old buildings of the park, the park,
and some worthless buildings, LMI code:
B-II-a-B-18026.
3
According to Local Urban Regulation attached to the General Urban Plan
approved by Bucharest Council Decision no. 269/2000, the ensemble is placed in
the “CB2” area of public services dispersed in protected areas, and the Protected
urban area plan no. 72 – Averescu Plot, listing it as “L2b” sub-area.
4
St Catherine Nursery, set up on 25 May 1897. Report for 8 years – 25 November
1905, Bucharest, Minerva Publishing House, 1906.
5
ANIC-DMBAN, Fond PMB-Sth., File no. 261/1900, Permit issued to Mrs
Ecaterina Cantacuzino to build a nursery on Salcia Street.
6
Jubilee report at 25 years of St Catherine Nursery. Founded on 25 November
1897, admitted as moral and legal entity on 16 December 1897, Bucharest,
222
Cartea Românescă Publishing House, 1922
7
APMB, fond PMB-Sth, File 446/1926
8
APMB, Bucharest City Hall, Yellow Sector 1, file no. 40/1934, St Catherine
Nursery, P.S.Aurelian Street, corner of Mărăști
9
Ibidem
10
Prince Gheorghe Grigore Cantacuzino, born 22 September 1832 in Bucharest,
deceased 23 March 1913, in Bucharest, was one of the top Romanian politicians
after the reunification of the two principalities. He was elected twice as Mayor
of Bucharest (1899-1900; 1904-1907). He was one of the richest persons in
the kingdom. Young Gheorghe Gr. Cantacuzino studied in Bucharest and Paris,
where he got a PhD in 1858. He was elected deputy in the National Constituent
Assembly in 1866. Given his colossal wealth, he was nicknamed the Nabob. He
built three palaces: Cantacuzino Palace on Calea Victoriei, currently hosting the
“George Enescu” National Museum, Cantacuzino Castle in Bușteni, a museum as
well, and Cantacuzino Palace at Florești, unfinished and nowadays a ruin.
11
National Archives, Directorate of Bucharest Municipality, fond PMB-Sth., File
no. 258/1902, f.3.
12
The building belongs to the Local Council Sector 1 and is run by the General
Directorate for Social Protection and Child Protection Sector 1, according to
OUGR 26/1997 and HGR 117/1999.
13
Order of the Ministry of Culture no. 2314/2004, about the approval of the List
of Historical Monuments.
14
“SC Proiect București SRL”.
15
Lead architect: arch. Octavian Ceampuru, consultant expert Phd arch Ruxandra
Nemțeanu – architecture, eng. Gh. Popescu - structure
16
Main or A pavilion/ Main administration office/ Marriage Registry sector 1,
pavilion P4-B – administration, pavilion P2-C – medical cabinets /pharmacy,
pavilion P5-D – administration, pavilion P6-E – administration, pavilion P7-F
– administration, pavilion G – kitchen and administration, pavilion P3-H –
administration, pavilion P1-J – kindergarten, Amphitheatre, Chapel, pavilion gate
1, 2. Total surface of plot in topographic measurements = 24087.00 sq. m., in
documents =23940.00 sq. m.; total built ground surface= 6181 sq. m., alleys and
traffic= 8016.67 sq. m., green areas=9890.00 sq. m.
17
Head restoration project and lead architect: expert Phd. arch. Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, arch. Andreea Rădulescu - architecture, expert eng. Mircea
Mironescu - structures, head of speciality project: eng. Teodor Brotea -
structures, head of speciality project: eng. Ion Mareș - installations.
18
FREEZTEQ is a very effective system for damp, accredited in Britain and other
countries, providing certain advantages compared to other chemical products.
The system relies on the effect resulting from the physical and chemical
reactions to hydrophobize the pores and capillaries of treated wall, having
a mixture of siliconates in basic watery solution as a reactive. The method
addresses works to combat dap (reworking hydrofuge isolation between
foundation and walls) for all types of masonry. The project proved very effective
to rework the hydro insulation of old buildings.
19
HASIT – Mineral plaster on natural hydraulic lime, which can be used as plaster
primer or as the final layer. Specially designed for renovation and restoration
of historical buildings and monuments. The material responds to the needs of
historical monuments; the granulometric curve was set through the analysis
and remaking historical plastering – plaster based on hydraulic lime for massive
masonry, such as full bricks or broken stones.
20
Head of restoration project and lead architect: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, arch. Andreea Rădulescu - architecture, expert eng. Mircea
Mironescu - structures, head of speciality project: eng. Teodor Brotea -
structures, head of speciality project: eng. Ion Mareș - installations.
21
Head of restoration project and lead architect: arch. Milița Sion, eng. Rodica
Donighevici - structures
22
Head of speciality project: Phd arch. Ionuț Anton - architecture, head of
restoration project: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra Nemțeanu, head of speciality
project: expert Phd eng. Maria Darie - structures.
23
Head of speciality project: Phd Arch. Ionuț Anton - architecture, Head of
restoration project: expert Dr Ruxandra Nemțeanu, Head of speciality project:
expert Phd Eng. Maria Darie - structures.
24
Tudor Octavian, Romanian forgotten painters. “Dinastia Ioanid”. The Ioanid
family, initiated by Gheorghe (b.1839) and closed by Costin (d.1993), was
highly productive for over one and half century, covering the whole history of
Romanian art. In his “Notes” left as a manuscript, Pandele, the most popular,
describes himself as follows: “I, Pan Ioanid, son of Gheorghe Ioanid, painter,
grandson of Pericle Ioanid, painter, grandson of Gheorghe Stoicescu, painter
from Pitesti, with two sons: one brother, Ionel Ioanid, painter, one sister,
Constanta, painter, and my children, Costin and Lucia, painters, who I think will
take revenge for the fate which had opened so wide and promising…” Born in
Varna, from one church painter – Ioan Hagi – and a Turk subject for a long while,
Gheorghe (1839-1921) was the first challenging fate into higher education,
first at the Royal Technical University in Athens (1856-1860), then in Bucharest
(1864-1867). From 1870 to 1907 he worked all types of painting, but mainly
church painting, in a workshop on Calea Mosilor where his sons, Pandele and
Ionel, learned the craft. Pandele (Pan) (1878-1956), a top painting talent, but
overwhelmed by difficulties, accepted the role of producing Romanian dance
paintings. Ionel Ioanid (1882-1952) had an equally strange biography, since
223
before becaming a painter, he was an emeritus acrobat and winner of circus
competitions!
25
Head of restoration project and lead architect: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, arch. Diana Slăvescu-Doican, arch. Irina-Teodora Nemțeanu -
architecture, expert eng. Mircea Mironescu - structures, head of speciality
project: eng. Teodor Brotea - structures, head of speciality project: eng. Ion
Mareș - installations.
26
Painter Ion Dragușin.
27
Stained glass execution – prof. Lucian Butucariu, eng. Gabriel Antoniu, head
of restoration project and lead architect: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra Nemțeanu,
arch. Irina-Teodora Nemțeanu - arhitecture.
28
Historical plastering expertise – prof. Ana Emandi, wood expertise – dr.
Mariana Prună.
29
Consolidation via hidden drilling and filling gaps with reinforcement and fluid
concrete was first made for the rock supporting Bran Castle, Brașov. It was also
used at St Nicholas Princely Church in Curtea de Argeș, Argeș county.
30
APMB, fond Primaria I GALBEN, File no. 40/1934
31
Head of restoration project: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra Nemțeanu, arch.
Octavian Ciampuru - architecture, expert eng. Mircea Mironescu - structures,
head of speciality project: eng. Teodor Brotea - structures, head of speciality
project: eng. Ion Mareș - installations.
32
Head of restoration project and lead architect: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, arch. Diana Slăvescu-Doican, arch. Irina-Teodora Nemțeanu -
architecture, expert eng. Mircea Mironescu - structures, head of speciality
project: eng. Teodor Brotea - structures, head of speciality project: eng. Ion
Mareș - installations.
33
This is the merit of the hardworking team managed by Dr Dănuț Ioan Fleacă,
General Director DGASPC Sector 1.
34
Head of restoration project and lead architect: expert Phd arch. Ruxandra
Nemțeanu, arch. Irina-Teodora Nemțeanu - architecture, eng. Daniela Drăghici
- traffic, eng. Nicolas Triboi, landscape designer Alina Adăscăliței – landscape,
head of speciality project - installations: eng. Ion Mareș, eng. Alina Mareș, eng.
Ghiță Liviu, eng. Răzvan Ganea - installations, expert eng. Mircea Mironescu -
structures, head of speciality project – structures: Teodor Brotea.

A COMPLEX ASSESSMENT OF ROOF STRUCTURES
Ioan ANDREESCU, Alexandra KELLER, Marius MOSOARCA
224
1. Introduction
Over time, people tried to express geometric patterns and sacred
proportion in both architecture and urban planning, establishing
certain relations between the position of various buildings and
their surroundings and local Telluric currents1 and the shape and
sacred geometries2,3.
While the roof was analyzed in relation to the whole building,
few to no studies were performed to identify the symbolic value
of historic roof structures and determine the reason behind the
overall shape, height or the choice of structural elements.
Preliminary studies on examples starting from the Middle Ages
and taking into account the history of craft guilds, showed that
there are three main phases in the evolution of European roof
structures. The first phase comprises the appearance and active
period of the craft guilds, from the early Middle Ages to the
18th century (19th in central Europe), a period during which
the skills of the artisans have an important influence on the
complexity and philosophy of the roof structures. The second
phase considers the period after the decline of the guilds until
mid 20th century, a time in which the skills of the past artisans
can still be identified, but the symbolic value is lost. The last
phase, beginning from the end of the 19th century, comprises
the period in which roof structures become economic efficient
structures, deprived of major symbolic value.
2. Primary findings
In the early 20th century two different types of roof structure can
be identified in Timisoara. Along with a new type of standardized
roof structures, a paradoxical typology can be identified in the
new plazas of that period, in connection with to the construction
of new buildings with monumental roof shapes.
The former Stock Exchange building in Victoria square (early
20th century) is a good example for this type of approach. The
corner building had an important role in shaping the square and
emphasizing certain view directions even from the first plans of
architect Ludwig von Ybl and engineer Sebestyén Kovács Aladár
(fig. 1). Due to this fact, a building with a highly complex roof was
necessary.
From a structural point of view, the roof was built using multiple
types of roof structures, chosen according to their position in plan
and their urban and aesthetic purpose. A good example for this
approach is the Lloyd palace, in Victoria square, one of the new
public squares built in the 20th century. Due to the role of the
various buildings in shaping the square and the complex geometry
of the roof, five different structural typologies can be identified,
depending on their position in plan (fig. 2a). Still, the origin of the
roof structures that were used is Eastern Germany, according to
the analysis made by Friedrich Ostendorf – trusses with strutting-
hanging device and purlins used to connect main and secondary
trusses4.
Despite all their similarities, each zone has a different specific
feature which highlights the influence of the exterior urban
context on the shape of the roof structure. The side areas (fig.
2b) present a simple truss with hanging device with a significant
height, the side area having an important role in defining the
sides of the square.
The central area (fig. 2c), a pyramidal roof structure with a
complex central knot, despite being an aesthetic structure,
has two main purposes – to sustain a globe, the symbol of the
exchange market, and to emphasize the urban alveoli placed in
front of the building.
Our analysis revealed that this complex roof structure makes use
of a collage of traditional craft-area based typologies purely for
aesthetic and urban value, without adding any general symbolic
meaning.
3. Sacred geometry in roof structures
In the early 20th century two different types of roof structure
can be identified in Timisoara. Along with a new type of
standardized roof structures, a paradoxical typology can be
identified in the new plazas of the time, in connection with the
construction of new buildings with monumental roof shapes.
In addition to this finding, two other, older, roof structures
present in Timisoara were analyzed in order to see if there is
something more behind historic roof structures.
The first structure was the one from a building in St. George
square, which is a part of a 18th century perimeter block in
the old city center. The study of the roof structure revealed
an excellent 18th century shape – a closed purlin truss and
horizontal massive timber beams, covered by planks that
ensured the horizontal framing of the truss5. All the elements of
the structure are connected only by traditional joint typologies
and technologies, based on the skill of the carpentry craftsman,
testified by the discovery of the master carpenter’s mark. The
result is a sophisticated roof structure with a high symbolic value
but also a complex structural role, enhancing the stiffness of the
whole building.
The sacred geometry analysis (fig. 3) revealed that the roof
structure is governed by the relationship between squares and
their diagonals, representing certain structural elements. The
ratio between the rafter length and the roof width is √2, an
archetypal geometric proportion symbolizing the division of the
unity, like the diagonal is dividing the square into two halves6.
The synagogue in the historical center of Timisoara was built
under the direction of the architect Carol Schumann at the end
of the 19th century and remained fully functional until 1985 (fig.
4a). The roof structure (fig. 4b,c), having a height of 6.50 m over
the central part of the dome, was made of oak from the forests
On the previous page:
1. Former Stock Exchange in Tim-
isoara the role of the building in
shaping the square; the roof struc-
ture – plane.
On the current page
2. Former Stock Exchange in Tim-
isoara (a) the role of the building
in shaping the square; (b) the roof
structure – plane.
3. St. George square building roof
structure - sacred geometry of the
roof structure (√2 ratio).
225
of the Timisoara area. A special feature of the roof structure are
four V-shaped columns, which help transmit the loads from the
elegant roof structure directly to the exterior masonry walls.
The roof framing system contributes to the overall structural
behavior of the synagogue mainly in transmitting vertical loads.
This is due to the fact that the bearing walls form an encasement
of the entire structure7.
Our analysis showed that the main geometric figure that was
used to define the shape of the synagogue was the square
(fig. 5). It was used both in the plan, defining the symbolic
value of the space, and in the roof structure. There it can be
observed that the position and height of the roof structure were
determined by two adjacent squares – the position of the rafter
corresponds with the main diagonal of the resulting rectangle,
and the position of the vertical elements of the hanging device
was determined by using logic geometric construction methods
for the golden ratio (Φ) as shown in figure 3 (BA/IA=Φ).
4. Sacred geometry in architecture
4.1. Medieval European cathedrals
Geometric, symbolic figures and sacred, divine proportions were
often used in the design of Middle-Age European Cathedrals in
both plan and elevation. A logic correlation between general
proportions and the position of several key elements, like statues
or paintings or symbolic figures on surfaces can be observed,
too3.
Regular geometric figures such as squares, circles and equilateral
triangles were preferred by craftsmen because they assured
a greater accuracy of composition. A good example of use
of geometric patterns in architectural façades is the Milan
Cathedral (fig. 7a), where the position of every element was
determined using equilateral triangles.
 Up and down left: 4. The Great Syna-
gogue from Timisoara (a) exploded
axonometric view of the synagogue;
(b) sectioned axonometric view of
the synagogue; (c) roof structure
axonometric view.
Down right: 5. The Great Synagogue
from Timisoara - sacred geometry of
the roof structure (golden ratio)
226
4.2. Chinese roof structures
The geometric/symbolic principles found in the Medieval
cathedrals are not unlike the Chinese roofing systems (fig. 7b).
In Chinese culture, roofs are far more than a protection for
humans. Remarkable studies in this domain were performed
taking into consideration the link between their shape, height,
structural typologies and elements, which represent political
hierarchy, societal status and religious beliefs. Because of this,
they reflect cosmic principles and use natural, harmonious
proportions and sacred geometries.
4.3 Cosmic geometry in the 20th century
In the mid-20th century, after the decline of the traditional
culture, the spiritual way of building, respecting nature’s
principles and geometry, is revived by Buckminster Fuller,
who gives up the mathematical and technical formalism of
architecture. According to Buckminster Fuller, nature is efficient
and coherent, and taking its principles into consideration can
lead to structures with a high synergetic value and complex
geometric configurations, like mandalas or other such
compositions9. His geodesic domes were made entirely out of
Platonic solids, having a high stability due to the use reinforcing
triangles (fig. 6 ). They were at the same time consistent with
the universal order as perceived by Fuller and very efficient
and performant. Their geometric complexity is not justified
by surpassing the problem at hand, it is a demonstration of
craftsmanship and the knowledge of the sacred geometry.
5. Results and Discussions
The study shows that in order to properly assess a historic roof
structure, one has to look deeper than the immediate structure,
its relation to the building and urban context. There are far more
symbolic and synergetic characteristics that have to be taken
also into consideration. As structural typologies change, it can
be observed that symbolic features tend to change too, and are
peculiar to a given historic period.
A proper evaluation and identification of the proportions and
the geometric patterns being used and their specific period can
lead to a better assessment of historic wooden roof structures.
Up: 7. Buckminster Fuller Montreal
Expo Dome, 1957 (General view and
structural detail) (After Eastham, S.
American dreamer: Bucky Fuller &
the sacred geometry of nature10).
Down: 6. (a) Sacred geometry in
gothic cathedrals (Dome of Milan)
(After Ghyka, M. C., The geometry of
art and life8); (b) roof structure detail
of Chinese influence - Changdokkung
Palace.
227
On the one hand, structures could be dated more accurately 4
Ostendorf , “Die Geschichte des Dachwerks”, Kessinger Publishing, Berlin, Germany, 1918.
taking this characteristic into account when other documents are
5
S. V. Gaivoronschi, I. Andreescu, M. Mosoarca, “Working in the Attic. Complex Restoration
and Reconversion of an Historic Attic Structure in Timisoara”, C60 International Conference
missing. On the other hand, this type of additional assessment “Tradition and Inovation – 60 Years of Civil Engineering Higher Education in Transilvania”,
can help in identifying the original shape and structural elements Romania, (2013)
of the roof structure or different types of interventions done pag. 287-288.
over time.
6
R. Lawlor, “Sacred geometry: philosophy and practice”, Thames and Hudson Ltd, London,
Great Britain, 1982.
6. Conclusions 7
I. Andreescu, V. Gaivoronschi, M. Mosoarca, “The hidden gem. Advances Materials
Besides being complex structural parts of a historic building, roof Research”, Trans Tech Publications, Switzerland, 778 (2013) pag. 880-887.
structures have a high symbolic value influenced by the tradition, 8
Ghyka, M. C., 1946. “The geometry of art and life.” Dover Publication, Inc., New York, USA.
history and craftsmanship of past artisans. A complex assessment
9
R. Koolhaas, “Elements of Architecture, 14”. International Architecture Exhibition, la Bienale
di Venzia, Marsilio, Venice, Italy, 2014.
of historic roof structures has to take this features into 10
S. Eastham, “American dreamer: Bucky Fuller & the sacred geometry of nature”, The
consideration too, from the overall appearance of the structure to Lutterworth Press, Cambridge, Great Britain, 2007.
every single joint or detail.
NOTES
1
S. Cardinaux, “Sacred Geometries”, Volume 2 (in french), Ed. Trajectoire, Paris, France, 2006.
2
M. C. Ghyka, “Asthetic proportion in nature and arts” (in french), Gallimard, Paris, France,
1927.
3
L. Gross, “Sacred shapes and number” (in french), Diffusion Rosicrucienne, Le Tremblay,
France, 2015
 THE CHURCHES CARVED INTO A CHALK HILL, 10TH CENTURY ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITE IN MURFATLAR
(BASARABI), CONSTANTA COUNTY
Mihai OPREANU
228
In the 9th to 11th centuries, Dobrogea had become once again
part of the Byzantine Empire, after a number of centuries of
uncertainty and barbarian incursions. The previous Byzantine
period, when Emperor Justinian launched a grand construction
program (see Procopius of Caesarea, De Aedificis), had lasted until
early 7th century, when the Avaric and Slavic invasions forced the
Empire to retreat.
The period around the 10th century was one of economic
prosperity and military development. Dobrogea was a “maritime
theme” (military region of the Empire). New fortresses were built
and the ancient Roman fortresses were expanded (Păcuiul lui
Soare, Dervent, Capidava, Carsium-Hârșova, Axiopolis-Cernavodă,
Dinogeția, etc). The Byzantines also built three “waves”, i.e. large
defense walls which ran across Dobrogea from west to east, and
were fortified with towers. Some of these walls were made of
earth, one in stone. The stones’ origin can be traced, at least in
part, to the Murfatlar Quarries.
Monumental Ensemble
The rupestrian ensemble is part of a Roman quarry, located on the
cliff of the Tibisir hill, at the edge of the town of Murfatlar, twenty
kilometers from Constanța. The rock is chalk, an amorphous
calcium carbonate, which is almost pure, soft, highly porous,
very hygroscopic and capillary. The massif which resulted from
quarrying made possible the excavation of several chapels, burial
chambers, branched corridors, etc.
The church located on the top of the hill, later named B1, was
the first one that was discovered during the opening works
of a rock mining operation, on June 11th 1957. The operation
was cancelled and the archaeologists took over. Thus, an entire
rupestrian religious ensemble was discovered, after clearing
the chalk deposits, various mineral deposits and soil which had
accumulated in the last millennium.
Incised walls
The interior surfaces of the cavities and some exterior surfaces
of the quarry walls are covered with inscriptions, symbols,
decorative or symbolic elements, human and animal figures. All
of them are carved in areas which resulted from the excavation
of chalk, which still bear traces of the tools used (chisels and
different other implements). These inscriptions and images are of
exceptional value to research into the emerging Romanian culture
of that period. Their artistic value is also important; the naive
character of the images is associated with a subtle sophistication
and complexity, even though the meaning associated with some
of them is not completely uncovered.
Inscriptions are of several types: Greek, Paleoslavic, and many
others in an enigmatic type of writing which reminds of turkik
runes, and are still waiting to be decoded. Furthermore, its
enigmatic character gives the site exceptional value. Data
is preserved, for example the year 6490 (=982), the Greek
expression “Jesus Christ vanquishes” or “For it is written: ‘I will
strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.” (Mark 14,
27), “…I, Aian, the priest ... light candles for my sins … and may
God have mercy on you together with the holy fathers, amen”.
There are also some Romanian names – Petru, and (possibly)
Scandinavian ones – Ranepilpe.
Figurative representations show people in the orant position
(with arms raised in front), a schematic representation of the
scene of Nativity (first-time in Romania), birds (a dove as a
symbol of the Holy Spirit, horses and horsemen, deer, rabbits,
and other animals which are hard to identify. There are also some
interesting Scandinavian elements such as a long Viking boat with
a sail, helmsman and the paddle-shaped typical rudder, a triple
229
cross, fabled dragons with intertwined bodies and wolf-like heads,
etc.
Signs and symbols are visible on all the surfaces. We find a large
number of crosses of various designs: spatula-shaped, similar to
the Malta cross design of later times, propeller-shaped crosses,
crosses with rounded arms or inscribed in circles, the gamat
(or swastika-shaped cross), X-shaped (similar to Saint Andrew’s)
cross, etc. All of these show a concern for innovation and insight
and express some kind of meditation exercise of a religious
nature. Moreover, other images are still visible: mazes (as imago-
mundi), “Morris” or “Merrills” boards, and different schemes and
networks.
The extraordinary complexity and variety of all of these elements
are impressive and provide a level of intensity and richness of
non-canonical (religious) spiritual life, which has not yet been
encountered in comparable form since the time of primitive
Christianity.
For us, as architects and specialists engaged in the research and
preservation project, the meaning of all the incisions is mostly
imprecise and we hope that studies on their interpretation will
progress. So far, the impression given by the site’s exploration
is undoubtedly overwhelming, although the information is still
scattered and mysterious to a certain extent.
The entirely artificial rupestrian character of the monastic
settlement, together with the unsystematic and non-canonical
representations make us think of primitive Christianity, although
the Eastern Church was already established by that time. There
are many things to discover about the spiritual life of this region
that are of great importance to the development of the Romanian
people. Moreover, the Murfatlar ensemble in its entire complexity
is essential evidence in this regard, and it must not be allowed to
disappear.
230
It is believed that this rupestrian ensemble encompassed two
stages of habitation. The first one is contemporary with quarrying
operations; the second one followed immediately after these
operations had stopped, probably because of the cessation of
construction works undertaken by the administration of the
Empire in the region. In the first stage, some chapels were also
excavated by the people who were working in the quarry. The
rock massif which contains the chapels B2, B3, B4 protrudes from
the quarrying operations area and it was probably intentionally
left in this position. Those three chapels are the most complex
and rich in inscriptions and representations. They are located on
three levels and the religious spaces are vertically interconnected
with tunnels and galleries.
The chalk block, colloquially called the “peninsula”, together with
the church B1, located on the top of the cliff, suggests a kind of
asceticism, where each chapel is isolated from the community
through a difficult access path. The believers were probably
observing the religious rituals from the outside, because of the
small capacity of the chapels.
The largest chapel is B4 and it doesn’t exceed 7 by 3.5 meters,
and none of the chapels exceeds 2 meters in height. The spatial
configuration is similar to that of a typical church with a nave
and narthex, without apses. The plan contains two interior
columns between the narthex and the nave and two more
columns between the nave and the altar. These generate a kind of
iconostasis which is decorated with red curved lines, made with
an encaustic technique. The same technique is used to imitate the
joints of a stone wall. The monastic ensemble was surrounded
by a settlement with both a profane and a religious character.
Generally the traces of habitation were found on the outside of
the cavities, in spaces like burial chambers and other galleries.
The settlement was abandoned during the 11th century, following
the withdrawal of the Empire’s administration and a new wave
of barbarian invasions, though no traces of violent events have
been found. Some parts of the cavities have collapsed because
of the deposits of soil, but the incised surfaces of the walls were
protected due to the fact that they remained buried in a relatively
constant hygrothermal condition throughout the ages.
The evolution of the ensemble after its discovery
In the summer of 1957 and in 1958, the Institute of Archaeology
in Bucharest conducted research on the site of Murfatlar. In 1960,
the research continued in parallel to the restoration site opened
by the Division of National Monuments, led by the architects Virgil
and Liana Bilciurescu and the engineer Constantin Pavelescu.
Ample restoration work was undertaken and the pieces were
reconstructed through anastylosis using structural elements made
from reinforced concrete. Injections of concrete and cement
mortar were used to fill the rock fractures. The “Peninsula” is
mostly reconstructed in concrete, especially the south-western
and the upper areas. A concrete slab was placed above the B1
church. The concrete surfaces were covered with white mortar
cement or white concrete, poured into the timber mold. In
this way, all the interventions are clearly differentiated and the
resulting image is coherent.
The specialists determined that the ensemble could not remain
uncovered due to the danger of rapid degradation because of
the fragility of the chalk. The architect Liana Bilciurescu designed
a building made of reinforced concrete, with angular shapes
which follow the site’s topography (Structure by eng. L. Spoială).
The construction began in the south-western part and covered
one third of the rupestrian complex. Then the works suddenly
ceased in 1977 because of the abolition of the Division of National
Monuments and the subsequent dismantlement of all the
231
restoration sites. It was the first time that the site was abandoned
after its discovery and the extensive and ambitious efforts of
reconstruction, protection and improvement. It was a tragic
period of political assault on cultural heritage, a phenomenon of
deliberate destruction, in peace time, of unprecedented violence
and magnitude.
After this abandoning of the site, the parts not yet covered by the
concrete structure were protected only by a temporary timber
structure, covered with reed panels and asphalting bitumen
boards. A concrete drain remained incomplete on the upper part
of the site. Soon enough, the lack of any maintenance led to the
degradation of the temporary structure, the roof broke in many
places and the drain filled with stones and soil coming from the
upstream side of the hill which has a pronounced slope for 20
meters more. In 2003-2005, the building reached a critical stage
of degradation, because of the water infiltrations and the fact
that evaporation was impossible in the existing conditions. Water
accumulated, bacteria proliferated and the decomposition of
these organisms provoked severe damage (granular and powdery
degradations of incised surfaces are among the most critical). The
extreme humidity made impossible any kind of remedy, because
the rock was water-logged and it was not capable of absorbing
any substance for consolidation.
In the area covered by the provisional structure were the most
interesting cavities (churches B1, B2, B3, B4 and vault) and the
most precious incised parietal elements. On the other hand,
the unfinished concrete building did not fulfill its protective role
either: it was dark, lacked thermal insulation, and was poorly
ventilated. The specialists noticed that it aggravated the situation
rather than alleviate it, especially in the summer when the
unprotected concrete heated up under the sun.
In the 1990s some maintenance operations were completed and
232
there was the intention to continue the protective structure, but
the work was abandoned again. The architect Liana Bilciurescu
died in 1997. At the end of the same year, the project was
resumed by the Ion Mincu University of Architecture and
Urbanism, mainly thanks to the insistence of two pre eminent
personalities in the field of archaeology, Petre Alexandrescu and
Adrian Radulescu, without whom the site would have probably
remained abandoned, as it is today. But let us not anticipate.
At that time I had the good fortune and privilege to work with the
structure engineer Constantin Pavelescu and chemical engineer
Ion Istudor and Rodica Donighevici, specialists who had worked
on this topic before 1997. We conducted several stages of
research and design which ended in a feasibility study that was
approved by a Committee of Ministry of Culture in 1999-2000.
The temporary structure, which was on the verge of collapsing,
was radically rehabilitated between 2005-2007 based on a
project. The humidity levels began to drop, bacteria were
substantially reduced and the incised surfaces and the chalk
massif should have been ready to receive a new treatment in
2006, which was an absolutely necessary step. But nothing was
done, a fact which is very dire and difficult to understand after all
the rehabilitation work already accomplished.
For the second time since its discovery in the 1950s, the site was
abandoned, but this time it is more difficult to understand why
and to accept it as there are no destructive political pressures
involved. Furthermore, the site is on the UNESCO World Heritage
tentative list for over 20 years. We are not wealthy, but it is not a
catastrophe either.
The 2007 rehabilitation was very expensive. Since then, with a lot
less money, more specific investigations and test treatment could
have begun. The degradation progresses very rapidly and in a
few years we risk losing everything we can preserve. The incised
surfaces will have disappeared.
What is happening? Why does nobody seem to care? It is beyond
my understanding.
Pathology Mapping
The rock (calcium carbonate) is amorphous and highly sensitive to
humidity, frost, salt, etc. The physical condition of the ensemble
is critical. The degradation is intense, and the starting moment
of the damage is relatively recent, mainly due to ceasing of
maintenance works in 1977. The situation has constantly
aggravated since 2007.
The carved surfaces were naturally preserved for around
1000 years, having been buried under soil deposits. Pathology
phenomena are the result of corroboration between the negative
effects of the surrounding environment and the micro-climatic
factors within the protection structures (as they were until 2007),
as both of them were not properly illuminated, ventilated or heat-
insulated. Both structures tend to amplify the climatic differences
through overheating in summer, and enhancing the freeze-thaw
cycle during winter.
Degradation of wall faces can be noticed in photographic data
beginning from 1960.
We have been following the evolution of the ensemble from
1977 up to date and will continue to, but “the patient” is in need
of intensive therapy. Complex and specialized investigations are
necessary.
Not too many, but carefully considered and well understood,
according to Professor Ippolito Massari. A sustained and
uninterrupted program is required. Otherwise, we could easily
ask ourselves if it wouldn’t have been better to just bury back the
archeological site, after it has been discovered, and wait for a time
in future when determined people will take a proper course of
action.
The main causes of degradation are:
- Water accumulation, before 1977 and until 2007, due to flawed
construction of the provisory structure. Frequent freeze-thaw
cycles cause fragmentation (destruction) of the rock massif and
damage to the surfaces. This particular cause has been essentially
233
taken care of in 2006, when the temporary protection structure
was rehabilitated.
- Salt crystallization – this has a somewhat similar effect to frost:
The formation of crystals implies a powerful mechanical force
which breaks the porous structure of the rock, when humidity is
reduced and salt becomes solid.
Alternating humidity variation sequences are equally harmful to
temperature variations near the freezing point. Also, this cause
of damage has been considerably reduced in 2006, with the
rehabilitation of the temporary protection structure. However,
symptomatic treatments are necessary to fix the existing and still
ongoing damage.
- Soluble and crystalline salts that are surely the consequence
of the concrete used in the structural system built between
1960 and 1977, when these incompatibilities were not taken
into consideration, or not known of. Currently we are studying
methods to contain these potentially harmful chemical
substances and to control their flux through the chalk massifs and
surfaces.
- Other salts that are generated by the nearby “waste mountain”
(which is sadly increasing its size on a daily basis) and carried forth
by underground water, according to a prior investigation.
- Nitrate accumulation, which is a consequence of massive
biologic proliferation, which is also soluble and forms crystalline
salts, but is regressing since the rehabilitation. (The unhealthy
environment favoring these factors has changed and the need for
further treatment has diminished)
In conclusion, it is common sense that ambient control is of
paramount importance in what concerns the future, but so is the
phased treatment of existing degradation (similar to medicine):
emergency treatment, symptomatic and causal treatment,
background and maintenance.
234
Brief presentation of the protection, preservation, restoration
and revaluation project
We are convinced that the need to rescue the ensemble is
obvious. The National Historical Monuments Committee has
repeatedly stated this as well. Nevertheless, although the
feasibility study was approved in 2000, also this project has been
abandoned.
The main objective is to conceive a new building for protection
– a light structure with supports outside the limits of the
archeological site, and which should be reversible in the highest
degree possible. It must be a structure with top level ecological
qualities, our ultimate goal being ambient control through
natural means. Therefore, we propose a translucent envelope,
made of light, flexible and thermally insulated material (cellular
polycarbonate, for instance). The surfaces which form the
envelope will be detachable, closed during winter, but with
minimum necessary ventilation, and opened during summer, in
the lower and upper parts of the structure. This way, ventilation
will be activated by solar heat itself, and during summer a solar
protection with reflective veils will control the heating of rock
massifs. During winter, these veils can be raised (as the veils of
a ship), and the thermal contribution of direct and diffuse solar
radiance would diminish the freeze-thaw sequences, one of the
main degradation mechanisms. Handling these veils could be
done twice a year, in the same manner in which the veils of a ship
are handled several times a day, but in a much easier context, i.e.
under the translucent surface, not in the middle of a storm!
Thus, the main tasks which the new structure would have to
perform, replacing the actual structure, are as follows:
A.
• to ensure an adequate micro-climate in order to preserve the
ensemble and valuable components, through solar control during
summer, controlled solar contribution and controlled natural
ventilation;
• to prevent infiltration of meteoric water (rain, snow, fog, etc.);
• to ensure a temperature proper to preservation as constant as
possible, despite seasonally and diurnal variations;
• to ensure acceptable levels of relative humidity, avoiding
condensation on the outside surface of the envelope, as well as
on the inside surface, and avoiding the freeze-thaw phenomena
• to drain meteoric waters from the soil and to avoid additional
water infiltration on the site perimeter by using a draining system
at the base of the structure and at the top side of the mountain
slope;
• to control capillary water;
• to avoid overheating during summer and excessive cooling
beyond freezing point during winter;
• to control the evolution of microorganisms, fungi, algae and any
other biologic pathogenic factors;
B.
• the suggested structure will consist of modular, removable
objects;
• this structure will probably be made out of laminated wood,
properly treated in factory a long time before being used, in order
to avoid emission of substances capable of negatively influence
the internal micro-climate; the ambient control devices will be
adjustable and adaptable;
• the new building will have to “breathe”, ensuring a proper air
flow between the interior and the exterior;
• carefully positioned stairs and bridges will provide access to
specialists and visitors, in order to avoid harmful effects on the
archeological site;
235
Hydrologic tasks attraction for tourism, especially thanks to its proximity to the sea
The following investigations are suggested: shore and to other ancient and medieval artifacts. Hopefully, the
- 6 drillings with depths of 15 to 20 meters, placed outside the economical context and the environment for tourism will evolve
site perimeter, in order to perform hydro-geologic and geologic in a favorable way, in an anticipated future. The vicinity of the
research. These drillings will help us study the phreatic level, the Danube-Black Sea Channel is another advantageous argument,
hydro-geological conditions in the area, water accumulation in the despite any historical and social connotation from the past.
quarry and possible leakage of waste from the nearby dumping. The channel is a major element of the landscape and it has the
Also, these drillings will control the geophysical measuring and potential to become an important frame to the nautical tourism.
will provide probing for altered and “fresh” rock; Also in the proximity of the site we find the natural reserve
- general physical characteristics analysis, based on probes from “Fântânița” and the Murfatlar vineyards.
the drillings, in order to gain extended knowledge, especially Until then, there are many things to do. The physical condition of
about micro-fissuring, porosity and capillarity. the ensemble is critical and the emergency conservation actions
The hydro-geologic investigation will provide essential data and the construction of an efficient protective structure are
about site characteristics such as phreatic water level positioning absolutely necessary. All of these must be part of a complex and
relative to the architectural object, underground water migration argued strategy of restoration.
towards the object, or ascending underground water migration
near the object.
Data processing, interpretation and drafting of the final study
The data obtained in the different ways of investigations which
are proposed, will be interrelated in order to obtain the most
complex status of the geological state of the monument and
surrounding area. All of them will conduct to the most precise
conclusions and recommendation about the geological state of
the whole area which includes our goal, the safe geological area
for foundation, which are necessary to establish the actions for
the conservation and protection of the rupestrian ensemble.
The improvement of the site will be essential to the intervention
strategy. The objective is unique in Romania, in Europe, and
beyond, and it is a point of reference due to its exceptional
cultural importance. Experiencing the site is special and dramatic
in the best sense of the term. It will surely become a point of
 A PUZZLE-PIECE FOR HISTORIC BUILDING CONSERVATION IN TRANSYLVANIA 2003-2017
Dorottya MAKAY1
236
1. Antecedents of the analysed period – A tribute to the tutors
(1990-2003)
During the communist era, to the direct order of dictator
Ceaucescu, institutionalised historic building conservation was
stopped between 1977-1990; even repair or maintenance on
historic buildings – both ecclesiastical and civil (related to the
bourgeois and aristocrat classes) – was actively discouraged.
The communist propaganda promoted the idea of a “new
environment for the new human”, so destruction of the built
inheritance was first left to fate, but by the end of that era the
village destruction project envisaged the massive dismantling of
historic fabrics.
In 1990 the imminent threat was apparently averted by the re-
esatblishment of national institutes of built heritage conservation.
But new hazard factors were identified:
1. Due to the lack of tuition and specialisation in historic
building conservation, both theoretical and practical knowledge
concerning traditional techniques and materials had faded, there
were very few professionals left who had been active in the field
before 1977, and the evolution of knowledge and industry could
not penetrate to our region.
2. Due to nationalisation in 1947-48, a high number of
buildings remained without a proper owner and function and
were neglected through the long litigation period, once the
retrocession process was initialised (in the second half of the
1990s).
3. The first half of the 1990s was characterised by a lack of
legislation (first of all in built heritage conservation), and local
communities continued to dismantle full mansions, selling them
as sources for building materials. Incidental robbery was also
common, especially in castle and mansion architecture in rural
areas all over Transylvania2 .
4. In many cases where intervention was needed, the adopted
solutions were poisoned by the hegemony of hard cement
mortars and reinforced concrete, resulting in Baroque churches
buried by reinforced concrete diaphragms, cast on both sides of
the masonry walls.
5. Facing all these problems, a team under the guidance of
professor Bálint Szabó3 in cooperation with Sándor Benczédi4
from Sfântu Gheorghe launched the first series of introduction
courses to built heritage conservation in Tușnad (Harghita county),
inviting professionals from Bucharest and Budapest, in 1992.
During the last decade of the 20th century, several built heritage
conservation schools came into being around iconic professionals
who helped the re-launching and re-learning of built heritage
conservation research, design and execution in Transylvania.
From our point of view, that was the beginning of being involved
(and the dawn of specialisation) in historic load-bearing structure
research and in the design of intervention. A student between
1992-1994, I (among a number of young professionals) became
member of the research and design team led by professor Szabó.
We had the opportunitiy to learn from the best professionals in
our area, working together on research and design, supervising
the execution of iconic buildings such as the Roman-Catholic
church of Cluj-Mănăștur5 and to take part in national and
international professional exchanges, courses, conferences, being
also involved in the organisation of some of them6.
After nine years of apprenticeship, the accumulated knowledge
encouraged me to start up my own office, specialised in historic
building conservation research and design of intervention.
Cooperation with professor Szabó, being always a mentor to me,
has never stopped; he had been my supervisor for my Phd thesis7
and we continued to cooperate, I being invited many times as
lecturer to professional conferences, and as author of articles for
the Transsylvania Nostra bulletin. All those who have started their
professional carrier within this Transylvanian conservation school
have learnt to always look at the larger picture, to work as a team,
and to deeply respect the intrinsic values of historic (structural)
concepts, techniques and materials that guide us in our everyday
work.
2. The activity of a built heritage conservation design team
in diagrams and figures (2003-2017) – characteristics of the
geographic area: Transylvania
Our historic building (load-bearing structure) research and
conservation design activity8 – form a geographical point of
view – covers the whole territory of Transylvania9 (fig. 1), and an
almost 15 years’ time period. The presented works are focused on
historic load-bearing structural research and design, but design
leadership is also assured for several buildings (this being more
characteristic at the beginning of the activity).
The guiding principle in historic load-bearing structural research,
analysis and intervention design, in our opinion, is that the
engineer dealing with conservation (restoration, retrofitting
or reinforcement) must be very competent in contemporary
structural design and must also be familiar with prescriptions of
the contemporary technical legislation, as well as with modern
technologies and materials. Therefore, we always tried to contract
at least 10% of our commitments projects involving contemporary
structural design, though the scope of this lecture is only
conservation.
The extent of this activity is shown in (fig. 2) – Diagram of
researched, designed buildings within the presented time-lap:
207 buildings including 51 listed historic monuments of national
importance – A; 66 listed historic buildings of local importance –
1. Map of Transylvania (Romania)
showing the placements of the con-
servation-projects (red dot IrodM,
purple – ConsolideM), including 120
localities.
2. Diagram of researched, designed
buildings between 2003-2017.
237
B; 44 unlisted historic buildings - H, 12 buildings in protected area
– P; 8 interventions on contemporary buildings (built after 1950)
– C; and 26 new building (structural) designs – N.
Research and conservation design covers structural survey and
analysis reports, feasibility studies and technical documentations
all for: obtaining building permits, carrying out emergency
interventions and execution, assuring also professional assistance
during the implementation, in cooperation with architects,
specialists and experts from 13 municipalities in Transylvania (and
from Bucharest).
Concerning the diversity of the (listed) historic buildings, they
are mainly churches and dwelling (or institutional) civil buildings
built between the 13th and 19th centuries, but the group also
includes castles, historic industrial buildings, roman castrum ruins,
a timber-covered bridge, or for example a church with one of the
oldest dendrochronologically-dated10 still standing roof structure
in Transylvania – the choir’s roof structure in the reformed
church in Cetatea de Baltă, “made of oaks cut during the winter
of 1422/142311.” The distribution from a functional point of view
is exemplified in (fig. 3), that shows the classification by function
of the ecclesiastical buildings (including almost all Transylvanian
historic religions12) we have dealt with (churches, schools, parish
houses, palaces, mansions used by confessions, monasteries), as
well as the civil buildings including: educational function (schools
and colleges), (former) headquarters of institutions (refurbished
as hotels, etc.), individual and common dwellings.
The majority of the buildings was in a medium (103 – 60%) or
advanced (34 – 20%) state of decay (from both structural and
architectural point of view); some needed interventions only due
to the change of function (in order to assure their sustainability –
20 – 12%), a number needed emergency intervention due to their
progressed degradation (12 - 7%) and some were also in ruins (in
 3. Distribution of the analysed pro-
jects according to the function of the
building.
4. Distribution of the analysed pro-
jects according to the sources of their
funding.
238
fact for several centuries – 5 -3%). Only the 174 historic buildings
were analysed.
Interventions on historic load-bearing structures (on historic
buildings or on the built heritage), due to the complexity of
work and the need for highly specialised craftsmanship, require
essential financial investment. (fig. 4) shows the principal sources
of funding, that are as follows: for smaller (or long-term) projects,
mainly private funding, while major sources are assured by the
historic churches from their own funds. An important contribution
is provided by Romanian public funds, at both the local and
central (i.e. managed by Ministries) level; in built heritage the
National Institute for Heritage (managing the National Restoration
Programme) plays a major role. The largest projects are financed
through EU funds – mainly through the regional Operational
Programmes (chapter 4 and 5), and in the following financial
exercise (2014-2020) Rural Development Programmes are open
to be accessed by listed buildings of local importance. Cross-
border EU programmes are also accessible for built heritage
conservation, and in Transylvania the Hungarian cultural
programmes13 are also available. Through all these programmes,
the conservation work on 86 historic buildings (50%) out of 174
was finalised in the last 15 years; 21 (12%) projects are currently
under execution, other 45 (25%) are in the initial stages (research
and design, application, authorization in different stages of
development), and only 22 (13%) were dropped investments (fig.
5).
3. Case studies in the initial period 2003-2008
Though the Romanian legislation basically differentiates between
treating listed and non-listed historic buildings, our philosophy
is that the difference between those two types of buildings lies
neither in the architectural and (empirical-historic) structural
concept nor in the traditional materials and techniques used.
Instead, it lies only in the density of aesthetic and historic values
reflected in the legal status.
Prior to Romania’s accession to the European Union, and still
closer to the transitional post-communist period, smaller
investments were more usual. The use of lime-based mortars and
renders was still not common, NHL just started to be available
through multinational building material producers / retailers.
3.1. The Calvinist church in Cuzăplac (Sălaj county)
The first case study presents an everyday story – that of the
reformed church (not listed historic building) in Cuzăplac, – from
all points of views. It is a church (re)built in the 19th century in
stages, as parishioners were able to gather the necessary funding.
It was erected based on a conceptional failure: in order to reduce
costs, the western wall of the nave was built to include the
western tower as well, of a totally different rigidity and behaviour
under both gravitational and seismic loads. Fracture was
imminent (figs. 6, 7). The local reformed community continuously
decreased in number, thus proper consolidation works have never
been carried out. During the second half of the 20th century,
unprofessional rapiers using rigid, non-breathable cement-based
render worsened the technical state of the building, increasing
humidity in the masonry, resulting in its decay through repeated
freezing cycles. The hill also shows slow sliding tendencies.
The chosen solution had to take into consideration a local
community of just several families14 and applications only
possible for limited funding. Therefore, reinforcement with
stainless helical bars was designed in combination with
rebonding the masonry, and the execution process (only for
this problem, not taking into consideration otherwise needed
repairs on the roof structure, and replacing the cement based
render with breathable lime-based one, etc.) was split into 4
phases: (i) western interior elevation, (ii) southern and northern
interior walls, (iii+iv) exterior of western, as well as southern
and northern elevations. The first two steps were carried out
in two consecutive years (2004 and 2005), but ever since no
further investment was possible. From the owner’s point of
view, the repair was successful because it eliminated the annual
re-appearance of cracks after simple render repair. From a
structural point of view, this is not a happy-ending story, as the
5. Percentage of finalised, started
and not started / dropped execu-
tions.
239
overall concept was never carried out, while active degradations
of the roof present increasing hazards. Even this aspect of the
story is a very widespread one. The moral is: for both listed
and non-listed historic buildings (elements of our built cultural
heritage) it would be extremely important to create more funding
application possibilities (both for research and design, as well as
for execution).
3.2. Elementary school building in Tileagd (Bihor county)
The second case study from the initial period refers to the
elementary school building in Tileagd. In many terms, it is a
happier story. In spite of the clear baroque origins of the building
(sail vaults and a roof structure with baroque concept), it was15
not listed, as in our first case. Being used as elementary school,
the retrofitting was carried out through the Central Management
Unit for School Rehabilitation of the Ministry for Education
and Research, an agency not specifically equipped to deal with
historic buildings. Moreover, keeping investment costs as low as
possible was compulsory. The design team (though not bound by
the law) carried out a design that took into account the historic
character of the building. From a structural point of view, two
sets of problems needed special treatment: (i) a number of sail
vaults were severely cracked – mainly because of the lateral
load deriving from the roof; (ii) the roof structure, unlike the
vast majority of baroque roof structures, had been built on
an incorrect structural concept, roof trusses had large, visible
deformations (40 cm settlement of the ridge-line, etc.), many
(also biologically) degraded elements, incorrect joints etc. (figs. 8,
9, 10).
The designed interventions were carried out just like for a listed
historic building, sail vaults were to be repaired by rebonding
and grouting, the roof structure was statically analysed to find
 6. Reformed church (not listed
historic building) in Cuzăplac (Sălaj
county), general view.
7. Inside view of the fractures on
both sides of the western tower.
240
the optimum retrofitting solution by inserting extra elements to
increase load-bearing capacity as well as rigidity, in order to also
reduce lateral pressure on the walls. The general contractor asked
for the change of structural solutions, i.e. to replace damaged
vaults with reinforced concrete slabs, as they had no craftsmen
able to carry out masonry-rebonding.
The proposal was rejected, and the contractor was introduced to
craftsmen specialised in historic masonry-repair. The intervention
on the roof structure was carried out according to the design,
although the quality of carpentry joints was far from excellent.
In order not to just randomly have good (acceptable) results in
(not listed) historic building renewal, their special needs and
values should be accepted and promoted, the above-mentioned
building (in the scenario of having designers not understanding
historic structures) could easily get rapped of sail vaults getting
reinforced concrete slabs or ending up wrapped in polystyrene (as
thermal insulation).
4. Major conservation works involving state financing and EU
projects 2008-2015 – outstanding examples
4.1. Gothic cross vault of the Calvinist church in Daia (Harghita
county)
Since 1990 a perpetual reliable financial possibility in built
heritage conservation has been the National Restoration
Programme (even if interventions stretched over many years,
as the annual available amount was always limited). The first
case study detailed within this chapter is the (gothic cross-
vault, decorated with a renaissance al secco of the) reformed
church in Daia. Works started at the beginning of the 1990s with
archaeological excavations, retrofitting of the gothic historic roof
structure and of the exterior of the building16 , the authorised
solution for the cracked vault (using reinforced concrete ribs
on the extrados) had not been accepted by the mural painting
restorers. Execution was suspended at the beginning of the new
Millennium; relaunch would have needed design renewal (as
technical prescriptions had changed at the time of the accession
to EU), and also the vault consolidation solution had to be
replaced. In 2010 a new design team was formed17 , and detailed
3D analyses were carried out in order to identify the exact
behaviour of the vault, as, quite unusually, the ribs were made
of ceramic elements – with a small cross section, without load-
bearing capacity, and wall masonry constructed above the vault
front, fixing the line that is supposed to be a free edge; (figs. 11,
12).
Through 3D modelling all possible solutions were analysed:
ideally constructed gothic cross-vault being supported only at
the springs, with and without structural ribs, and the actual
solutions with support on the whole contour-walls. In all cases,
tension lines were identified. The adopted solution was not to
change the actual (incorrect) support condition, but to introduce
stainless reinforcement on the extrados where tension appeared.
The solution was also breathable and the used NHL lime and
stainless bars did not hazard the precious mural painting, so the
restorers accepted it. Consolidation works have been carried out
in autumn 2011, mural painting restoration in 2012. After over
5 years no cracks have reappeared. The success is not complete
Down: 8. Main and secondary
trusses before and after retrofitting
of elementary school Tileagd.
Up left: 9. Cracked arch and scaffold-
ing of elementary school Tileagd.
Up right: 10. Rebonding sail vault’s
cracks.
241
as the interior of tower and nave, and the landscaping are not
finished yet, and the church has been waiting for completion
for more than 25 years. Post-adherence period opened the
opportunity to access larger funds through EU projects. The next
two case studies are both happy-ending stories, showing that
strategic planning and endurance pay off even if it takes 9 years of
research, design and execution. The rehabilitation of the buildings
chosen for the following two case-studies was concluded during
the summer of 201518 , being preceded by preliminary research
initiated in 2006, while feasibility studies were finalized in 2009.
The detailed planning for the Sic Calvinist church was carried out
in 201119 and that for the Cluj church in 2012. Execution launched
in 2013 in Sic and in 2014 in Kogălniceanu street, Cluj20.
4.2. The Calvinist church in Sic (Cluj county)
The reformed church in Sic has early medieval (Arpadian) origins,
it contains stylistic elements characteristic of the famous Cârța
stonemasonry workshop in county Sibiu, had been altered
many times throughout its history and its original walls bear
a large number of mural paintings (4 layers between the 13th
and 16th centuries, as well as 17th-18th century notes and
sketches). Though it had been extended and controversially
modified (following the design of the famous Transylvanian
architect Károly Kós), in 1947 and reinforced (including partial
reconstructions of walls and underpinning, not documented),
 11. Reformed church Daia (Harghita
county) – 3D structural model of the
vault – Nx - diagram.
12. Restored mural painting on the
intrados of the vault.
242
in the 1960s (after the county road around the church hill was
constructed), by the beginning of the Millennium the building
had reached an extremely advanced state of decay. The following
structural elements revealed serious problems: (i) all the walls
built before 1946 were fissured, cracked or even tilted – pointing
to (ii) problems in the foundations; (iii) all the vaults above
choirs and the sacristy were cracked, (iv) roof structures (ceilings
included) and (v) galleries (northern and western) did not meet
architectural, functional or even structural safety requirements.
The rehabilitation concept was based on preserving all the stages
of development of the church, which applied to the new volumes
resulting from the interventions designed by Kós.
From a structural point of view, all structural sub-ensembles
needed major intervention – all being characterised by special
problems: (1) Foundations – north-western corner needed
underpinning (during execution it was discovered that the
original foundation depth on the western and northern walls
was only of 30 cm, and not 100 cm, as initially assumed through
archaeological study21 by analogy with the eastern wall). Also
during research and design, choir foundations were designed
to be underpinned using micro-piles, but execution revealed
earlier non-documented (bad quality) concrete underpinning
at -2,20m; intervention was stopped under the windows of the
choir, this being the main cause of the fractures in the choir (fig.
13). Therefore, the micro-piles were moved along to the eastern
enclosure walls, the choir foundations were underpinned with
reinforced concrete and linked by 50 cm steps to the historic
depths towards west.
(2) Walls and (3) vaults were all in advanced cracked state, mainly
due to the above described foundation problems, but also
because of their originally bad masonry quality (especially in the
northern and western walls). Their treatment (recreating their
continuity – once foundations were reinforced) was made more
difficult as the internal faces (and the intrados of the vaults) were
covered by mural paintings22 .
(4) Western and northern (the young men’s) galleries, as
well as the roofs and panelled ceilings23 were replaced with
contemporary structures, architecturally conceived to fit into the
historic space, the tower was retrofitted. The history of the church
and the intervention is shown on site by means of an inside and
outside exhibition with 20 three-lingual panels.
After 3 years of execution (preceded by 6 years of research design
and application for funding) the process resulted in an overall and
complex restoration work of approximately 2 million Euros costs,
that would have never been possible relying on funding from the
local community, county or national budget.
4.3. The Calvinist church in Kogălniceanu street, Cluj-Napoca.
From many viewpoints a similar case study is the one of another
emblematic building, the largest Transylvanian Gothic hall-church
of the Kogălniceanu (Wolf street), Cluj-N24 founded by King
Mathias in 1486. In the present description we will only point out
some of the most provoking challenges. The walls, external and
inner buttresses of the nave, walls, buttresses and the majority
of the Gothic lierne vault25 over the choir are original structural
elements built by the end of the 15th century26.
The original vault over the nave was destroyed in 1603 and
reconstructed as stellar vault by masters brought from the
territory of the present-day Latvia (Kurland), the works being
finished by 1643. After a blaze in 1798, the restoration works took
5 years, and gave life to the present roof structure of Baroque
character over the nave (span: 16.46 m) and over the choir (10.69
m). The buttresses in axes 3 and 5 (originally containing relieving
arches like the ones in axes 1, 2, and 4) were totally reconstructed
using carved stone elements in a massive form, in 1862 and in
1864.
Also, it is worth mentioning the interventions carried out in 1909-
1912, when the western gable27 was reinforced with two pairs of
horizontal ties. The last significant intervention was carried out
in 1958-196328 , when the external plaster was removed and the
church received its present image, with uncovered stone masonry.
The horizontal ties were relieved and removed, and oblique ties
were applied to anchor the leaning western gable.
After half a century, though at a first sight the church was in a
relatively well preserved condition, all the following structural
elements where decayed and clearly required intervention: (i)
the roof structure of Baroque character protected by an aged
covering included trusses with biologically decayed elements; (ii)
the western gable tilted towards the exterior by approximately 40
cm; (iii) the vaults were fissured, especially the one over the nave,
(iv) the walls were also fissured on the inside (mainly the axis with
the triumphal arch), while on the outside the stonemasonry was
visibly aged.
The rehabilitation concept was based on the idea of restoration
and structural retrofitting with the exception of secondary areas
in the cloister portico and in the tower, where new elements had
been introduced (metal staircases, for instance). In spite of the
large span, relatively few elements and joints were degraded
within the roof structure, as the used Baroque structural
concept of the roof was correct (as demonstrated by the lack of
displacements and also through structural analyses). Only minimal
intervention was needed in the roof area, more precisely the
replacement of the degraded parts of the elements. However, the
execution of proper continuity joints required an extremely high-
quality craftsmanship29.
One of the greatest challenges from the design and the
13. Reformed church in Sic (Cluj
county) - choir, north-eastern crack
before intervention.
243
executional viewpoints was the tilted western gable. It is known
from art history that the problem was already discussed in
mid 19th century, and, according to our calculations, the two
interventions in 20th century did not solve the problem. An
accurately calculated three-dimensional anchor system (that
could also take over pressure, not only tension) was designed
and assembled in the roof space. The execution (when removing
the mortar from the joints) demonstrated that calculations were
correct and the gable wall required a designed reinforcement in
order to avoid further decay (especially because of earthquakes).
The vaults presented unforeseen surprises. The vault of the
nave was visibly cracked, and the crack lines were proven by
mathematical analyses as well, but even so, the opening of the
fractures after removal of the render was shocking. The applied
treatment was to reassure continuity, and a reinforced NHL-
based render on the extrados was applied. On the lierne vault
of the choir no cracks were seen from the church’s floor level,
therefore the cracks of the vaults were more surprising. However,
their existence was related to events of the past (an explosion
close to the building as well as the collapse of the roof in the
17th century). Therefore, geosteel and helical stainless steel bar
reinforcements on both intra- and extrados were applied.
The last but not least shock was related to the two original
buttresses (axis 3 and 5, and to a smaller extent axis 1) which
were in a severely cracked state (identified only after the removal
of the mortar from the joints), explaining why the buttresses
of axis 2 and 4 needed to be reconstructed already in the 19th
century.
After only 17 months of execution (as the financial years of 2007-
2013 had to be closed in 2015) an investment of 5 million Euros
was carried out (the article did not detail the stone masonry
works30 , though they presented the main element of the
 14. Saint Michael Roman-Catholic
church, Cluj-N. - The original historic
Baroque roof main-truss built in
1775.
244
restoration), which, similar to the former case study, wouldn’t
have been possible without EU funding.
5. A case study for research and design finalised, buildings to be
restored in the near future
Any interference with historical load-bearing structures needs to
be based on their thorough research31, which can be achieved
through structural (technical) assessment. This is based on the
architectural and structural survey of the building, integrating and
synthesizing data collected from geotechnical and archaeological
studies and from studies on the biology and physics of built
structures.
Studies in art history, building archeology and studies of artistic
components carried by or integrated into historical load-bearing
structures are meant to identify valuable elements that need
to be protected through intervention and to point out details
concerning the development, the history of the building, aspects
that can explain various ways of behaving or degradation of
certain structural elements. On the other hand these studies state
the technical conditions for the execution of interventions32.
5.1. The Saint Michael Roman-Catholic Church, Cluj-Napoca33.
The church, placed in the central square of Cluj-N., is one of the
iconic churches in Transylvania, perhaps the most iconic. It is
considered to be one of the most representative monuments of
the Transylvanian Gothic style. Within the geographical region of
Transylvania, the hall church, in sheer size, is second only to the
Black Church in Brașov, but has the highest church tower, built in
Neo-Gothic (Gothic Revival) style.
The research and design for the restoration started in 201534 ,
and our team’s main objective was the structural analysis of the
construction. The completed structural analysis focused on 3
main parts in the superstructure: (1) the vertical components,
in the nave being a combination of load-bearing walls35 and
pillars and in the choir and tower only load-bearing walls; (2)
the horizontal components first of all consisting of Gothic cross
vaults in the nave, a suspended vault (to a reinforced concrete
beam-system, carried out in the 1960s); (3) and finally the roof
structure. Before carrying out the mathematical structural
analysis, the construction was surveyed for visible degradations
(mainly cracks and smaller fissures of render) on the walls and
vaults, and, most importantly, in the roof structure. Although the
façades are completely made of carved stones, degradations (and
former repairs) are also visible, especially at the arches above the
window openings (cracks) and mashing at the base of the walls
(because of the water vapor diffusion and freezing cycles).
Art history provides useful information in the interpretation
of the actual state of decay. Building started from two sides
(choirs and south-western corner), causing the irregularities in
the layout (rows of columns are not parallel to walls). An 18th
century earthquake demolished the north-western tower that
collapsed on the naves’ vaults. The erection of the Neo-Gothic
tower determined the sinking of the northern wall and the
cracking of walls and vaults on the northern nave, etc. The last
major intervention was in the 1960s, as in the case of the Calvinist
church in Kogălniceanu street.
Major intervention was carried out in the choirs, where the
Baroque vaulting (loading with great lateral thrust the walls,
which were tilted) was demolished and replaced with the
formerly mentioned suspended vault in order to eliminate lateral
load on walls.
The Baroque roof structure in its actual form was constructed in
1775 and reinforced later in 1830-3136 , and has never entirely
been retrofitted, so the biological decays of timber are visible, and
a biological report was carried out37. The main problems were at
the lower lateral joints of the trusses and obviously at the wall
plates.
Structural analyses of the original structure (fig. 14) demonstrated
that the historic reinforcement of the structure was necessary,
since the original concept was erroneous, unlike the vast majority
of Baroque roofs.
Both the roof structures38 , as well as the full superstructure of the
church were mathematically analysed, both for gravitational and
seismic loads.
Using the model deformations, internal forces, stresses and
the stability of the structure under loads (self-weight, wind,
snow, earthquake) were determined. The structure is able to
withstand the common load combinations, but in case of an
earthquake the upper part of the walls of the nave (built above
the arches between the columns to assure internal support
for the uncommonly large span of the roof) showed signs of
extensive fracture and even failure. Although the roof structure
has a stabilising effect on the upper parts of the walls, further
reinforcements were necessary, so the team decided on a system
consisting of steel trusses (fig. 15) fitted between the southern
and the northern buttresses.
By analysing the current form of the trusses it could be concluded
that only local interventions – based on the principle of minimum
interventions – are needed, such as the strengthening of some
joints, the changing of degraded segments of timber elements,
and in the upper triangle of the trusses (main and secondary) the
introduction of a supplementary upper collar.
Considering that the last major restoration-work was conducted
over 50 years ago, the church is in urgent need of interventions,
especially in the roof structure, while the required funding is
extremely large (4 million Euros), thus the project was submitted
15. Saint Michael Roman-Catholic
church, Cluj-N. - 3D model of the
superstructure.
245
for EU financing scheme. This year, 2017, it was listed among
the winners, and contract was signed with the owner, so the
restoration of the church will be financed and implemented
through the ROP (Regional Operational Programme) 2014-2020;
Investment priority 5.1 Preservations, protection, promotion and
development of the natural and cultural heritage.
6. Conclusions
Within the presented time-period (15 years) a relatively small
team of specialists (never more than 7 engineers working at a
time in our offices) treated a noteworthy number of historic
buildings: 174, out of which 107 were not only researched and
designed but also executed. But if we take into consideration
the number of listed historic buildings (over 660039 entries only
within the 15 counties where we have worked), the 117 listed
buildings of national and local importance account for less than
2% (1,76%).
In order to make built heritage protection more efficient,
decision-makers have to be made aware of the fact that built
heritage, historic buildings are not a burden, but a source of
sustainable development, and that more funding opportunities on
national and local level should be created. Furthermore, historic
(load-bearing) structures are three-dimensional tangible books
of knowledge concerning historic techniques and technologies
through which the wisdom of past generations can be understood
by the present and future generations of specialists. Within
the territory we worked on, only one county (Harghita county)
and one municipality (Oradea) possess for several years now
funding schemes both for research and design, as well as for
conservation work for which historic building owners can apply.
Their experiences should be shared in order to obtain multiplying
effect.
 The aim of restoration, rehabilitation of historic buildings (and
of historic load-bearing structures), along with providing the
required standards of performance, is first of all to preserve,
restore and retrofit intrinsic and attached historical values and to
ensure their durability.
Taking into consideration the extent of the medium, advanced or
severe state of decay of our built heritage, efficient interventions
should be based on structural amelioration instead of
consolidation in order to meet contemporary standard challenges,
especially in areas (actually a considerable part of Transylvania)
where seismic risk is low.
246 BIBLIOGRAPHY
MAKAY, Dorottya: Bevezetés a barokk és barokk jellegű fedélszerkezetek
elméletébe, Studiu sprijinit de Fundaţia Culturală Naţională Maghiară, Cluj-
Napoca, 2002.
MAKAY, Dorottya: The Safety of Historic Roof Structures with Baroque Character /
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Istorice – al 10-lea Simpozion Internațional; Utilitas Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, 2006,
pg. 136-152.
MAKAY, Dorottya: Emergency Structural Interventions - Priorities, Professionalism,
Financing. Case Study 2004-2007 / Intervenții structurale de primă necesitate
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Internațională de Structuri Portante Istorice, Utilitas Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, 2007,
pp. 63-79.
MAKAY, Dorottya: Barokk fedélszerkezetek Erdélyben/ Baroque Roof Structures in
Transylvania, a XIII-a conferință de Structuri istorice portante, Transylvania Nostra,
an II, nr. 8.; Utilitas Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, 2008, pg. 20-28.
MAKAY, Dorottya; SZABÓ Bálint: Baroque roof structures in Transylvania – Research
and analyses, Structural Analysis of Historic Constructions. Preserving Safety and
Significance, 2008, Bath, UK; CRC Press Taylor and Francis Group Publishing, Leiden,
2008, pg. 663-671.
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Simple Roof Structure Calculus Based on 2D Modelling to 3D Models – Case
study: Reformed Church in Cluj-Napoca, Romania, Structural Analysis of Historic
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Publications LTD, Zurich, 2010, pg. 125-130.
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Historic Roof Structures with Baroque Character; Structural Analysis of Historic
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Publications LTD, Zurich, 2010, pg. 1065-1076.
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roof structures with baroque character - Introduction / Barokk jellegű történeti
fedélszerkezetek - Bevezetés, Specializare în reabilitarea patrimoniului construit -
Note de curs / Built heritage conservation training - Lecture notes / Építettörökség
helyreállító szakképzés - Jegyzetek; Gloria Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, 2010, pg. 62-80.
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on Transylvanian Baroque Roof Structures, International conference on structural
health assessment of timber structures, Lisabon, 2011.
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Kogălniceanu/ Baroque Roof Structures on Mihail Kogălniceanu Street in
Cluj-Napoca, cea de-a XVII-a conferință de Structuri istorice portante, revista
Transsylvania Nostra anul VIII, nr. 30, Utilitas Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, 2014, pagg.
51-61.
BOTÁR István, GRYNAEUS András, TÓTH Boglárka: Hidden dates.
Dendrochronological research on medieval churches in Transylvania, in Caiete ARA,
6, “Arhitectură. Restaurare. Arheologie” Publishing, București, 2015, pg. 233-242.
MAKAY, Dorottya; SÁNDOR, Boróka; BORDÁS, Boglárka; HARI, József: Utilitatea
standardelor și normativelor în vigoare din punctul de vedere al reabilitării
structurale. Studiu de caz: studiul, proiectarea și execuția bisericilor reformate de pe
strada Kogălniceanu din Cluj-Napoca și comuna Sic/ The utility of valid standards
and norms in what pertains to structural rehabilitation case study: the research,
planning and execution of the Calvinist churches in Kogălniceanu street Cluj and
in the village Sic, cea de-a XVIII-a conferință de Structuri istorice portante, revista
Transsylvania Nostra anul IX, nr. 36, Utilitas Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, Romania, 2015,
pagg.20-36.
NOTES
1
Co-authors of the present article are actual and former members of the design
team led by the main dr. Eng. D. Makay within the presented time-period, who
have been actively involved either in the presented case studies or generally
have contributed significantly to the research and design activity of our office:
Annamária André, Zoltán Bárdi,Szilárd Bartalis, Zsuzsa Blénesi, Boglárka Bordás,
Boglárka Bohonyi, Carmen Florescu, József Hari (first co-author), Boróka Sándor,
Erzsébet Zoltán.
2
The tendencies could be identified all over Romania, but the present lecture
– being based on the authors’ experiences is concentrated on the geographical
territory of Transylvania.
Szabó, Bálint, dr; former professor of the Technical University of Cluj-Napoca,
founder of the Utilitas Ltd, Transylvania Trust, Transsylvania Nostra, Phd leader,
member of the NationalCommittee of Historic Monuments, etc.
3, 4
Benczédi, Sándor – former member of the National Committee of Historic
Monuments, professional specialised in architectural conservation of historic
buildings such as the Lutheran church “on the Top of the Hill” in Sighișoara, etc.
5
Research and design were carried out by the Utilitas team (leading architect É.
Eke in 1995-1996, execution in 1995-1997, the restoration was awarded by Europa
Nostra in 1998.
6
The author in this period was involved in the organisation of the Tusnad Built
Heritage Conference series, the editing work of the related publications (1999-
2003), the organisation of the ACTT 2000 and the early BHCT (2001-2002) tuition,
programmes organised by the Transylvania Trust and the British IHBC (with Cs.
Hegedüs and D. Baxter as co-organisers), participated in UK (1996) and US ICOMOS
(2003) exchange programmes.
7
Makay, Dorottya, PhD. Thesis: Baroque Structural Concept – Research of Historic
Roof Structures having Baroque Character, leading by professor dr. Eng. SZABÓ
Bálint, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, Faculty for Civil Engineering, Cluj-
Napoca, 2001-2013.
8
The presented research and conservation design work is carried out through
two offices: the IrodM Ltd founded in 2003, and out of financial needs (VAT free
activity helping historic churches and NGOs) the ConsolideM Ltd since 2014.
9
Transylvania as interpreted today also includes the historic areas of Banat,
Crișana (the Partium) and Maramureș, and our activity is spread over 15 counties
out of 16.
10
Anno Domini Dendrolab – Miercurea Ciuc, Romania, run by István Botár and
Boglárka Tóth, www.dendrolab.ro/en
11
Botár, István; Grynaeus, András; Tóth, Boglárka: Hidden dates.
Dendrochronological research on medieval churches in Transylvania, Caiete ARA 6,
2015, pg. 239.
12
Transylvania is the border territory between (Byzantine) Eastern and Western
Europe, therefore we have worked for Orthodox, Roman-catholic, Lutheran
(Evangelic), Calvinist (Reformed), Unitarian churches and for Israelites synagogues,
as well.
13
Currently the activity of the Teleki László Foundation or the Rómer Flóris Projects
are to be mentioned.
14
From 2014 to 2017, the number of community members dropped from 253 to
just 183. The 2004-2005 works were sponsored by the Illyés Foundation, paying
1,350 Euro for all the technical documentations, and the State Secretary for Cults,
Ministry for Culture and Cults, Romania, assured approx. 4,000 Euro sponsorship
that covers mostly the works carried out as enlisted. These figures show the level
of cost (and living) standards of that period.
15
Though at the time between design (2006) and execution (2008/9) an NGO in
Bihor county started to prepare the documentation for including the building on
the National List of Historic Monuments, and neither the design nor the works
harmed any of the historic values of the building, the process was never finalised.
16
The design was then carried out by the Utilitas Ltd led by professor Szabó in
cooperation with architect Sz. Guttmann.
17
Structural expert I. Benke, structural design, the team led by the author,
architect M. Köllő, mural painting restorers P. Pál and L. Kiss, historic timber
restorer F. Mihály.
18
For both churches, funding was granted by the Ministry of Regional
Development and Public Administration, as Managing Authority, through the
North-Western Department for Regional Development as Intermediary Organism,
the parishes being the beneficiaries.
19
General designer IrodM Ltd, MC specialist architect É. Eke, leading architect
D. Imecs, structural expert A. Popa, leading structural engineer D. Makay and B.
Sándor, the project was considered the second-best conservation project within
the Architectural Biennale, Romania, in 2016, the execution was carried out by the
main contractor Harbau Ltd, works were led by site manager Á. Márton.
20
MAKAY, Dorottya; SÁNDOR, Boróka; BORDÁS, Boglárka; HARI, József: The
utility of valid standards and norms in what pertains to structural rehabilitation
case study: the research, planning and execution of the Calvinist churches in
Kogălniceanu street Cluj and in the village Sic, the 18th edition of the Historic
load-bearing structures Conference, periodical Transsylvania Nostra, year IX, nr. 36,
Utilitas Publishing, Cluj-Napoca, Romania, 2015, pg.20-36.
21
Archaeological excavation during research phase was led by dr. archae. D.
MarcuIstrate. Due to the lack of funds, after the identification of former annexes’
foundations, it was not possible to perform further diggings on the western
elevation, and it was assumed that the foundation had the same depth as that of
the eastern walls, since art historians deemed that those walls were built in the
same era. Execution later demonstrated that both foundation (depth) and walls
masonry for these axes were different from the eastern ones. Art historian during
the entire process dr. A. Weisz, archaeologist during execution Zs. Csók.
22
In many cases masons, the structural engineer and the mural painting restorers
– a team led by rest. Lóránt KISS – had to work together in order to identify which
stone had to / could be removed to assure bonding possibilities, and to reduce to
minimum render surfaces with murals that had to be removed and later applied
back on the surface.
23
During execution, the restorer of artistic wooden elements, Ferenc MIHÁLY
proved that the tie-beams of the roof structure of Gothic character (demolished
in 1947) over the central nave had been preserved in situ; furthermore, the planks
of the 18th century monochrome painted panelled ceiling made by the Umling
joiner family were also in high number in place. All these elements were left in situ
between the modern ceiling and the roof structure, so that they can be restored
any time in the future.
24
General design M&M Design, the team led by eng. Á. Maksay did also the
3D laser-scanning of the building, architect: K. Maksay and Z. Lázár, structural
expert professor dr. eng. P. Rus, structural design the team of the author, general
contractors Decorint and Libra Ltds, works were concluded in July 2015, won the
Baumit Life Challenge Competition for restoration works in 2016.
25
The constructional difference between the vaults above the nave and the choir
was revealed during execution. For the vault over the choir it was demonstrated
that the stone arches have no upper elongation that would grant their integration
into the masonry layers of the vault. A number of segments were reconstructed
during the 17th century, when the actual vault of the nave was (re)built.
26
The historical presentation is a shorter form of the one published in MAKAY,
Dorottya; SÁNDOR, Boróka; BORDÁS, Boglárka; HARI, József: The utility of valid
standards and norms in what pertains to structural rehabilitation case study: the
research, planning and execution of the Calvinist churches in Kogălniceanu street
Cluj and in the village Sic, the 18th edition of the Historic load-bearing structures
Conference, periodical Transsylvania Nostra, year IX, nr. 36, Utilitas Publishing, Cluj- 247
Napoca, Romania, 2015, pg.20-36.
27
The works were initiated by I. Möller, based on a project by K. Lux, for the
building of the western neo-gothic gallery.
28
The works were designed by the Department for Monuments in Bucharest and
the technical department of the Calvinist Diocese, led by L.Bágyuj. Preliminary
research, completed during execution, proved that the aesthetic lime-based
surface covered a deep cement mortar jointing, which contributed to the
degradation of the stonemasonry.
29
Chief carpenter A. Gálfi and his team was involved in almost all of the presented
case studies as both specialised carpenter and mason in historic structures’
conservation.
30
The stone masonry work was led by restorer B. Nagy. The article did not detail
the electricity, heating, plumbing and other art-component restorations, neither in
this case, nor in the case of the Calvinist church in Sic, due to the necessity to limit
the length of case studies.
31
In the rehabilitation of historical load-bearing structures, the principles
formulated in the ICOMOS Charter – Principles for the Analysis, Conservation
and Structural Restoration of Architectural Heritage and of ISCARSAH 2005 –
Recommendations for the Analysis, Conservation and Structural Restoration of
Architectural Heritage.
32
Ibidem note 26.
33
Due to the length of the article, only one case study is detailed for this chapter,
though the example of the Roman-Catholic Episcopal Palace in Oradea, having
one of the most complex Baroque roof structures in Transylvania would also have
been of interest.
34
The general designer is the M&M Design Ltd, and 3D laser scanning was also
carried out to complete the original architectural survey done in 2013-2014 by the
Technical and Economic University of Budapest, a research phase (including an art
history report done by dr. Sz. Papp) led by dr. T. Mezős, preceded the presented
phase of research and design, in which structural expert is dr. P. Rus, and the
architect is T. Emődi.
35
Both the walls of the (lateral) naves and choir are stiffened by buttresses.
36
According to the dendrochronological report carried out by B. Tóth and I. Botár.
37
In case of the wall plates, almost 75% were missing or were heavily deteriorated
because of water infiltration.
38
Similar to the superstructure, the roof was examined (stress strain analysis) in
detail using a 3D model built in Axis VM. First, the initial form of the main trusses
was analysed to better understand the behaviour of the current form. The initial
shape could not withstand the current loads according to Romanian prescriptions
(wind, snow) so from our point of view all the later interventions were necessary.
 REHABILITATION OF SANCRAI-ALBA CASTLE IN TRANSYLVANIA
Adriana MATEI, Narcisa TURCANU, Razvan TURCANU, Tudor Adrian MATEI
248
Introduction
The researched monument is one of the hundreds of 17-19th
century palaces, manors, and castles in Transylvania of the
that were left in disrepair after 1947, either by their complete
abandonment or by improper use. After 1990, the retrocession
of these monuments has begun, but because of the lack of
inheritors, or for other reasons, many of these monuments
became again state property. The current case is a positive
one, because the local authorities have proposed a relatively
proper destination and turned to specialists and experts in the
restoration of monuments. The castle is situated in Sancrai,
Alba County.
The access is from D671, the castle being located 8 km South-
East from the city of Aiud. It is included on the list of historical
monuments of Alba County, at position 512, with the code AB-
II-M-B-0032001 and the name of «Kemeny Castle 1805».
The original 1805 construction was conceived as a Renaissance
plan, perfectly symmetrical as compared to the axis of access.
This becomes obvious on the basement plan, in which we
can observe the corners of the first phase of the building,
and the thickness of the walls from this first phase which far
exceeds that of the subsequent phases. In the first phase the
construction had two porticoes located on the long sides of
the building and on the transversal direction of access, two
large generous rooms which opened themselves to other two
smaller rooms arranged sideways, like the network circuit-type
classical Renaissance palaces. The façade facing the Mures
River is by far the one treated with the utmost attention
because of the large loggia provided with five semi-circular
arcades, situated in the axis of the building. From this terrace
we can reach another outdoor terrace provided with two large
symmetrical stairways, which descend to the terraced garden
overlooking the Mures River.
As time passed, the building underwent various changes which
brought it to the current state. During the first extension
phase, dating around 1890, the South-Western tower and the
South-Western body of the construction were built in a late
Baroque-like style (slightly Eclectic with Neoclassical accents).
The porticoes from the primary and secondary façades were
added, and also the richly decorated Baroque gables. Later
on, during another extension phase, the timing of which is
uncertain, the North-Western tower, the pentagonal North-
Eastern body, and the North body were added.
After 1947, along with the change of the building destination
into asylum for children with disabilities, the construction
underwent big exterior and interior changes, most of them
deforming the original appearance, but especially leading to
significant degradation due to a lack of professionalism shown
in the interventions.
Starting from 1997, the building was left uninhabited and
unfortunately let to random degradation.
Aspects of volumetric, stylistic and decorative composition
Despite an initial completely Renaissance plan, the façades of
the castle express a late Baroque style mixed with elements
of Art Nouveau and Eclectic Classicism. The whole appearance
of the castle is eclectic due to the abundant decoration and
the heterogeneity of the volumes, which vary in shape, size,
position and importance.
From the point of view of the composition, three horizontal
registers can be distinguished: the base register which shelters
the basement and takes over the slope of the ground, plated
with natural stone of large dimensions. It has two girdles, the
higher one of which, more elaborated, separates the ground
floor from the basement. The basement has stone and brick
interior vaults which confer elegance to the space, when
they are revealed. The ground floor register (piano nobile),
provided with porticoes decorated with columns, gables
and large windows with stone or plaster window frames in
the shape of triangular embrasure and engaged columns
(especially the loggia facing the Mures River, dating back to
the first phase), has a Renaissance feel due to the classic-
shaped arcades of the colonnade, and to the perfect symmetry
of the composition. The register of the roof dominates
both in terms of proportion and of variety. The design of
the decorative elements of the Southern volume is rather
Neoclassical by virtue of the elements of the central portico,
and Romantic in the octagonal tower elements, especially in
the coverage with the double curvature of the tower and the
lantern. The general shape of this registry can be traced back
to the late Romanticism of the 19th century.
Regarding the interior decoration, a special attention has
been given to the design of the floors. The ones in the outside
porticoes are made of poured mosaic with decorative designs
in red and black on a gray background. The flooring in the two
central rooms are made of lamellar oak parquet, forming a
modular rotated quadratic design that is extremely interesting
and well enough preserved to be reconstructed. The past
interventions on the flooring in the other rooms have made
impossible to identify their original configuration.
The ceilings, except the one in the hall under the polygonal
tower, were not preserved, but judging from the level of
decoration of the surviving one, designed as a stellated dome
with radial ribs converging toward the center, we can infer
that the other rooms, especially the two main large ones,
were decorated with a frieze as a decorative console with
rich plaster decorations, and a curb connection to the ceiling.
1. Facade north after the interven-
tion
2. Facade south after the interven-
tion
249
Besides, the East windows of the main hall are provided with
wooden decorated shutters and wooden decorative wooden
covers for heating elements under these windows.
The entire carpentry is very carefully designed and can be
considered a historical monument in itself, especially the
large doors with two leaves and light openers, but also all the
windows that were preserved. Doing a survey of the joinery,
one could easily reconstruct all the original doors, windows
and shutters.
A significant part of the exterior sculptural decorations was
destroyed, but through various analogies or completions they
can be restored and brought to their original form.
The castle domain
The castle domain is subdivided into several sectors, the first
and most important of which is the honor courtyard. Though
entirely destroyed, it still keeps the ruins of a round shape
(probably a fountain or whatever flat circular design, perhaps
accompanied by statues) disposed on the axis of access from
which depart several radial paths, two of which leading to the
access in the castle. This honor courtyard is present in almost
every historical castle or palace, and has a representative
purpose, being the interface between the street and the actual
courtyard of the castle, which was more intimate.
The Southern part of the garden is divided in two: the
Western part, from the Mures River, is green and retains the
atmosphere of a park full of old trees, bushes, alleys and
paths. Here we can find an asphalted playground, lit by two
powerful lights. It was built before 1989, in the period when
the castle was a residence for orphan children with disabilities.
The Eastern part of the garden, on the opposite part of Mures
River, was designed as a pond with an elongated hexagon
and two exedras on the longer sides. The pond in itself is
 4. Facade north-est
5. Facade south-west
250
a canal about 3.5 m wide and just as deep that follows the
above-mentioned hexagonal shape and surrounds a central
flat lawn. The outer shore of the canal is inclined, and to
avoid falling down it has been provided with a hedge made of
specially trimmed and uniform-planted bushes for protection
purpose. In the Northern part, the pond is crossed by an
arched concrete bridge accessible by concrete steps; in the
Southern part we find some steps which descend into the
water. The wall of the canal is made of stone pieces bounded
with cement mortar, the canal bottom is of concrete and the
bridge, its parapets and stairs are made of poured concrete
and were left visible. The pond communicated with the Mures
River in terms of water adduction (the installations are still
visible) and draining (probably through a filtration station), so
the water remained fresh all year round. Nowadays the pond
is silted and full of moss, but bringing it back to its original
status would contribute to the charm and delight of this
wonderful place. In the back of the castle lies a steep slope
garden arranged in successive terraces.
Research methods
There are several stages of research of a historical monument
or assembly. At the castle of Sancrai we are dealing with a
historical assembly because it includes besides the castle itself
a spread domain on an area of about 18,000 square meters.
One of the first steps is the survey of photography and
documentation. This step assures, on one hand the
observation of the existing situation of the assembly and
on the other hand the comprehension of all the stages of
construction and intervention that the monument has suffered
over time. In this case this step has stopped strictly to the
building (not being able to research the whole ensemble) and
established that in terms of style, chronology and construction
we are dealing with three different periods, namely: late
Renaissance (18th century), late Baroque (early 19th century)
and Eclectic style (end of 19th and beginning of the 20th c.).
The presence of the concrete in the construction of the pond
and the bridge certifies the latest intervention to the castle.
Another step is the historical study which is based on the
study of the archives, documents and references. Thus the
owners’ genealogy and the succession of various families
was researched, including the ones named Kemeny, Banffy or
Toldalagyi, all great representative families of the Hungarian
nobility in Transylvania of the time (among which we can
mention princely advisor and councilor of Cluj in 1581, Gyorgy
Banffy)1, and this explains all the aesthetic taste and opulence
of the assembly. Thanks to the historical research it was
discovered that there were some older buildings in the area
(as certified by the Jozefina Map)2 and many outbuildings
which today no longer exist.
The damages inventory is a very important piece of the
research aimed to report all the damages that the building
went through, such as: structural, physicochemical,
hydrothermal, bacteriological, etc. and the suggestion of the
visible causes: destination changes, vandalism, climatic agents,
theft, etc. The inventory can be performed either on horizontal
registers (basement, ground floor, roof) or on vertical registers
(towers, central body, body in annex, etc.). In this case the
horizontal method was chosen, because of the structural
homogeneity of these registers: massive foundations and
stone walls, brick vaults and ground flooring in the basement,
stone and brick masonry on the ground floor and on the other
floors of the towers, wood framing in the attic.
As for the roof structure, the following negative aspects were
5. Facade south-est
6. Facade north-west
251
reported: a big part of the elements were affected by water
infiltration through the covering of the roof; a part of the
rafters were fractured; the struts of the firming had a relative
displacement to their chord; the covering of the roof had
degraded tiles; the systems for collecting pluvial waters were
old and damaged. There are areas where the slabs over the
ground floor had collapsed following the water infiltration
and where some of the beams were damaged. In addition,
in one of the areas where the slab had collapsed, the water
infiltration had affected one of the walls as well, causing it to
swell and curve.
As regards the the interior finishes the following problems
were observed: deterioration of the flooring (especially when
made of massive wood parquet) and extended damage of
the plastering and painting due to water infiltration and poor
maintenance of the building.
As regards the exterior finishes the following problems were
detected: the presence of cracks; exterior plaster damage;
the deterioration of the cornices, girdles, window and door
frames; the damaging of the decorative elements.
The wooden joinery, both externally and internally, were in an
advanced state of decay, and many of them presented broken
or missing parts.
The fourth step consists of specialized expertises: the resistant
structure expertise, the stylistic expertise, the hydrothermal
and biochemical expertise, as well as the plaster and
decoration study. A cadastral study, as well as a geotechnical
survey, completed this research.
The rehabilitation project
The proposed project involves an assembly of functions
composed of Rose Breeders Association offices, conference
 On the next page:
7, 8. Interior
9. Spiral staircase
252
rooms, exhibition spaces and rooms accommodation.
In order to avoid the continuing degradation of the building,
while still no funds are found for the complete rehabilitation
and restoration of the entire building, several emergency
interventions are proposed, in order to limit the damages
and to conserve the building. These emergency interventions
include:
- the rehabilitation of the roof structure and the replacement
of the roof cover (this way, the water infiltrations and the
entering of birds in the attic will be stopped). This first step
includes the preparation of the roof structure for the next
phase of the intervention (which will involve the entire
building), namely the introduction of skylights;
- in order to avoid further degradation of the façades, and
to ward off the pluvial waters from the foundation of the
building, a new complete pluvial water collecting system for
the entire building is proposed;
- the planning in the South-Western wing of the building
of a conference room on the ground floor and of an office
area in the attic area, using the existing staircase to access
the attic, which will be rehabilitated. For these functions the
rehabilitation of the existing toilette is proposed, with access
from the stairs platform, which will be disbanded in the final
phase of the interventions. For this attic space to be usable,
it will be necessary to male some interventions on the roof
structure;
- the complete rehabilitations of the South-West wing of the
building façades;
- closing of all the openings in the basement with OSB panels
to prevent ingress of animals.
In order to eliminate all the problems that appeared in the
roof structure, the following interventions are proposed:
rehabilitation of the roof structure and coverage, review and
replacement of pluvial drainage system on the roof (valleys,
troughs and downspouts), and rehabilitation or replacement
of the skylights in the attic.
The intervention on the façades will include: bringing back the
building to its original appearance by removing the plaster
areas affected by water infiltrations and then re plastering
them; painting the façades in the original chromatic range with
the maintenance of the current architectural configuration
of the building; repairing / restoring the cornice elements,
griddle, door and window frames and other decorative
elements; replacement or restoration of the valuable joinery;
development of technical solutions for stopping and reducing
rising damp in the affected areas; cleaning and re-grouting of
the stone plated basement.
Regarding the internal organization of the building, a series
of partitions with light walls are proposed, as well as the
demolition of some partition walls that were made after
the building of the castle. The replacing of the floors is also
proposed as follows: massive wood parquet in the rooms at
the ground floor, stone in the hallway, and tiles in the toilettes;
on the attic floor we propose to replace the existing brick
floor with triple-layered wood parquet, and the existing rolled
cement flooring of the staircase with natural stone flooring.
The goal is to make the attic space more valuable by creating
at this level a space for a group of offices.
Inside the building, the following works will be made: removal
of the plaster areas affected by water infiltrations and
subsequent re-plastering; replacement or restoration of the
valuable joinery and development of technical solutions for
stopping and reducing rising damp in the affected areas.
Reported shortcomings in technical expertise are not likely to
253
substantially affect the resistance and stability of the building lanterns from the roof that are replacing the existing box-
up to now. Proposed intervention measures are likely to windows.
prevent the advancement of the reported degradations and Another innovative aspect is the humidity extraction system
also to bring the building to a normal state of functioning from the walls affected by molds, based on the use of injection
under safe conditions of use. materials, which must meet the following two requirements:
For the roof structure, the technical expertise recommends viscosity and penetration ability. These materials have the
the replacement of the damaged elements with new ones ability to fill the pores, narrow them or waterproof them. The
of the same dimensions, made in the same way as the ones injecting conditions are described in the specification book,
replaced, the replacement of the roof covering with a similar which represents a very important piece of the project, next to
one and the sanitation of the wooden slab from above the the drawings that contain the execution details.
ground floor by removing the brick floor, and the replacement
of the damaged beams. NOTES AND REFERENCES
For the façades rehabilitation, beside the injection and 1
B. NAGY Margit, Varak Kastelyok Udvarhazak, XVII-XVIII szazadi, Erdelyi Osszeirasok
the clamping with steel clamps of the cracks, the technical es Leltarak, Ed. Kriterion, Bucuresti, 1973.
2
STOICA Liviu, STOICA Gheorghe, POPA Gabriela, Castles & Fortresses in Transylvania:
expertise recommends to pickle the damaged plaster areas, Alba County, Castele si Cetati din Transilvania: Judetul Alba, 2009.
and to re plaster them; treatment with anti-mold solutions WEISS Attila, Studiu de parament, Castelul Banffy din Sancrai, 2010.
of the affected walls; cleaning of the stone plated basement; MATEI Adriana, TURCANU Narcisa, TURCANU Razvan, Reabilitare (restaurare) Castel
restoration of the exterior finished; re building of the pluvial Sancrai, Judetul Alba, proiect nr. 153/2010
water collecting system (gutters and downspouts).
In order to eliminate the rising damp, the technical expertise
recommends the complete pickling of the existing plaster, the
checking of the entire installation system of the toilet on the
ground floor and the replacement of the possible damaged
elements, plaster restoration and the development of a
rainwater retrieval system.
Innovative aspects
The most important intervention will be made on the roof
structure where, in order to assure a conformable opening
of the attic above the South-West wing of the building, the
farms chord was cut out and the tensile stress was taken over
by a rod system. This is how a niche system was created for
the offices that are punctually enlightened by the proposed
 A CRITICAL OVERVIEW UPON THE EARLY RESTORATION IN THE ROMANIAN SPACE: THE CASE OF PRINCELY
CHURCH IN DOMNEȘTI DIN CURTEA DE ARGEȘ*
Dan MOHANU
254
For over a century there is a concern to define or redefine a
cross-boundary area – the restoration of an art work. From the
severe observations of John Ruskin1 to the incisive and debatable
accusations launched by James Beck2 and Michael Daley
against an area considered to be equally affected by corruption,
imposture and irresponsibility, restoration underwent doctrinaire
fluctuations determined by circumstantial phenomena or mind-
set changes.
The attempt, starting from the nineteenth century, to isolate
the domain of restoration within the area of human activity,
especially targeting the life of arts, was characterized by the
oscillation between the apparently vaster and more permissive
territory of artistic creativity and the restrictive path of scientific
rigour. Placing it in a buffer zone between science and arts, the
public conscience attributed to restoration either the ‘magic’
powers of arts or the rigour, accuracy and pragmatism of science.
This oscillation was also reflected in the double name given to this
field of intervention on works of art: conservation and restoration.
As a matter of fact, this dichotomy hides doctrinaire conflicts
around the intervention on an art work. The legitimate desire to
find a balance between two apparently different ways to treat the
irreversible altering of the matter of the art work is expressed by
the juxtaposing of the two concepts: conservation-restoration3.
In the presence of oscillations or doctrinaire conflicts within the
conservation-restoration concept, the art work, from the mere
object to the historic monument, can become the victim of a
circumstantial decision.
The restitution of a historic monument of the prominence of
the Princely Church in Curtea de Argeş (fig. 1) is impossible to
be defined only in terms of aesthetics or under a documentary-
historic perspective. Similar to a doctor taking the Hippocratic
oath, the restorer assumes a responsibility of ethic nature. In
this sense, the main question is to what extent the intervention
of the restorer will restore the art work in its authenticity. The
recovering and transmission in the future of an unaltered art
work – in other words the restoration intervention – is often
undermined by the conflict of the restored image with the image
existing in the public conscience. In many cases the shock caused
through the act of restoration is triggered not so much by the
removal or minimizing of damage, often slightly perceivable by
the eye of a non-specialist, as by the disappearance of some
earlier interventions. In such cases, the new concept which has to
be adopted is the de-restoration of the art work, i.e. the removal,
after a critical examination, of earlier interventions that are
incompatible with, or falsify or mutilate the art work4.
The presence of this concept brings into the discussion one of
the most controversial conditions of restoration – the restitution
of the art work together with the traces of its passage through
time. The interval between the completion of the work and its
reception with the aim of restoration or de-restoration is the
period responsible for what we call additions or remakings5.
The Princely Church in Argeş, reference point for the early period
of restoration works on the Romanian territory, is one of the most
dramatic examples of what can happen to a monument during
its historic route, from the moment of its foundation to that of its
reception in a new instance, that is its restoration or, in our case,
its de-restoration.
The Princely St Nicholas Church is for Romanians a key
foundation, an expression of the early state feudal times in
Wallachia. Despite controversies about its dating and its founders,
the face of the church remains an authentic testimony of the
ecclesiastic life at the court of the first Basarabs, a durable effigy
of the Romanian medieval civilization6.
In reality, the original monument is irreversibly marked by
the disasters of its historic journey7. In connection with this
statement, let’s highlight a few major aspects:
- A great austerity dominates the ruined ensemble of the Princely
Court. The recent urban planning of the old centre of the first
capital of Wallachia adds to dilapidations and abandon.
- The single construction standing up, the church – necropolis of
the Princely Court - has faded in the public conscience in favour of
the legendary brilliance of Neagoe Basarab’s church. The mind-set
of the nineteenth century has especially prompted the admiration
of the general public towards the monastery of master Manole to
the detriment of the memory of the old church of the Basarabs8.
- The absence both of documents and oral tradition about the
founding and passage through time of the Princely Court was
accompanied by the gradual loss, as a result of some catastrophic
events, of details defining the peculiar physiognomy of the
church. At the same time, additions or remakings9 emerged,
which amplified the subsequent trust in the restitution provided
by the restoration started in 1911.
- Ample works carried at the Princely Court in the period 1911-
1923 reunited historians, archaeologists, palaeographers,
engineers, architects, and restoration painters, thus adding to
the restoration the prestigious trait of interdisciplinarity10. The
restitution of the Princely court to its current appearance became
undeniable not only because of the apparent solidity of scientific
reasoning, but also thanks to the convincing aesthetic presence
of the walls, whose austere beauty resulted from the mere
alternation of brick and river stone layers. The massive walls,
vaulted in inscribed Greek cross, covering in polygonal shapes the
altar apse and those of the pastoforia, extended to the west with
the narrow rectangle of the pronaos, seem to have always been
crowned by a single spire, perfectly balanced.
But what about the recent doubts on the legitimacy of the
1. The Princely Church in Curtea de
Argeș. Image taken after the 1914-
1923 restoration (negative of the
Commission of Historic Monuments).
2. Votive scene on the western wall
of the naos during the restoration
completed by painter D. Norocea.
Negative from the archive of the
Commission of Historic Monuments
255
restitution of the Princely Church, as it was thought by the
restorers in 1911? A few aspects, among which some apparently
unworthy of consideration, can trigger to a trained eye vital
questions about the authenticity of the construction we see
in front of us. One of these aspects, that can be easily placed
in the domain of the creative imagination of painters, are the
representations of churches in votive scenes. No matter how
fictional they may seem, these painted arks reproduce with
surprising accuracy the physiognomy of the foundations they
represent. In Argeş, unfortunately, the original votive scene
was replaced by the replica of the 1827 painting by Pantelimon
(fig. 2). Did the painter of the nineteenth century really see the
original image of the church ark, attempting to reproduce it as
it was? Regardless of the possible inaccuracies he could have
incurred into, it seems difficult to believe that the painter who
had so respectfully reproduced the scenes of the iconographic

256
ensemble from the fourteenth century, in his votive scene could
have indulged in the fantasy of representing a church with two
additional cathedral-like high spires over the pronaos.
Another aspect, sometimes downgraded as ‘minor’ by the lovers
of pure architectural shapes, is the precarious ‘skin’ of the wall,
from the mere finishing plaster to the support of the iconographic
ensembles. Finishing plasters, often taken for a tame presence,
can easily disappear and the irresponsible way in which they were
treated can be seen right at the Princely Church in Argeş11. Thus,
with some exceptions, after a selection made with no rigorous
specialist consultation, the plaster finishing in the fillings of the
apparent alternation of brick and stone layers, plaster works at
the level of which there might have been meaningful clues of the
transformations the Princely Church was put through in various
eras, were condemned to an irreversible ‘restoration’ through
systematic removal and subsequent replacement with blatant
polished plasterwork containing cement.
The ‘skin’ of historic monuments represents the level where
we can learn precious information about the passage through
time of old foundations, the transformations or damages they
underwent. The changes of mentality are reflected in their turn
in the register of the painted ‘skin’ of historic monuments. The
popular ‘visionarism’, extending tradition through its fabulous
narrative, and the denial of traditional medievalism by covering
old foundations with a neo-classical clothing are frequent
expressions of the changes of mentality reflected at the level of
facing or of iconographic ensembles.
In Argeş, the research of the painted ‘skin’ of the Princely
Church provides the key of the progress of the monument in its
entirety. The irreversible mixture of historical eras, along with
the restitution, sometimes deceitful, provided by the restorers
in 1914 represent a challenge in re-working the events that have
affected the Princely Church from its foundation to this day.
The restoration of the Princely Church in Argeş, together with
the ensemble of the princely courtyard, was undoubtedly the
first battle won against the methodology used in our area by
the French architect André Lecomte du Noüy12. It was, at the
same time, the beginning of a new era for Romanian restoration,
which went away from the principles of ‘doctrinaire’ restoration
promoted in the European space during the second half of the
nineteenth century by du Noüy’s professor and friend, architect
Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc13. Starting from the late
nineteenth century, the principles of ‘historic restoration’ came
into force, based on the idea of preserving monuments as the
past had conveyed them to us. The intervention produced at the
Princely Church in the early twentieth century belongs to a stage
which Professor Grigore Ionescu names ‘of our days’ and which,
reflecting the methodology of a ‘historic restoration’, allows, along
with the conservation of the original, to operate remakes that are
loyal to it14.
In order to complete a critical analysis of the intervention at the
level of the historic ‘skin’ of the Princely church performed by
painter Dumitru Norocea and his team, it seems appropriate to
present an overview of the restoration of the Princely Court in
Argeş in its entirety and to attempt to place the author of the
restoration of frescoes in the context of the mind-set of the time
towards the protection of historical monuments.
The Bulletin of the Commission of Historic Monuments15 of
1923 demonstrates the fact, remarkable for those times, that
the restoration of the Princely ensemble in Argeş was the result
of an interdisciplinary cooperation between the archaeologists,
architects, and restoring painters, with the aid of the expertise of
palaeographers, numismatists and anthropologists. The records
of archaeological diggings and of the restoration of architecture
attempt to provide in their turn an image as precise and
uncensored as possible of the works in their progressing.
We are therefore in front of a multi-disciplinary team, composed
of historian and archaeologist Virgil Drăghiceanu, architects
Grigore Cerchez and Nicolae Ghica-Budeşti, architect Iancovici and
painter Dumitru Norocea, assisted by painters Nicolae Teodorescu
and I. Mihail16.
The supporting works completed at the Princely Church by
architect du Noüy17 no longer represented the threat of a radical
intervention, equal to a reconstruction, whose victim were top
Romanian monuments, starting with the foundation turning into a
legend of Neagoe Basarab.
It is worth mentioning here the doctrinaire fight that took place
in the late nineteenth century about the restoration of the church
of Argeş monastery (fig. 3). The collection of documents of the
time18 reflects on the one hand the confidence given by the
authorities to the French architect and his principles, modelled
on the teachings of his mentor, Viollet le Duc, and on the other
hand the disagreement of part of Romanian intelligentsia over
3. The Archbishop’s Church of Argeș
Monastery, as restored in the second
half of the twentieth century by
French architect Lecomte du Noüy.
257
restoration as a methodology of reconstruction. The scandal
raised by a large group of architects, painters and sculptors,
among which Th. Aman, Juan Alpar, N. Gabrielescu, I. Mincu, Al.
Orăscu, I. Georgescu, G. Mandrea, G.D. Mirea, I. Socolescu, G.
Sterian, C. Storck, G. M Tătărescu, and I. Valbudea, exposed the
“mistakes made in restoring historic monuments” and asked for
an “Architectural-archaeological Commission [to be set up] to
monitor the good restoration of monuments”19. Authorities were
forced to appeal to the arbitrage of a country fellow of du Noüy,
architect H. Révoil. His letter, addressed to the Ministry of Cults,
represents a genuine statement of belief aimed at defending the
restorer of the Argeş monastery:
“In the critique made to us about the restoration and works
led by Mr Lecomte du Noüy, one did not take into account at
all the difficulties this architect had to overcome to complete
them, and especially the public opinion got confused about the
differentiation to be done between the terms conservation and
restoration.
To conserve a monument means to preserve it in its current state,
 On the next page:
4. Replica of the votive scene of the
Archbishop’s Church of Argeș Mon-
astery, completed during the restora-
tion conducted by Lecomte du Noüy.
5. Overall view of the painting in the
naos of the Archbishop’s Church of
Argeș Monastery. Du Noüy’s Restora-
tion replaced the old frescoes of the
sixteenth century by Dobromir with a
replica on oil on wall.
258
namely to make it pass to posterity as it is, being limited to a mere
consolidation. This was the programme of Mr Viollet-le-Duc and
de Baudot about the church of Curtea de Argeş.
To restore a monument is completely something else: it means
to restore its original state, namely to make it proper for the
destination it needs. The programme thus widens and we need
to understand that the architect, when lacking safe documents,
is first inspired by what he sees with his eyes and what can be
found in similar monuments. He needs to be impregnated by the
concept of the creating artist of the work and get around him all
information which justify his innovation.”20
Based on these principles, architect Révoil rejected all
critique brought to his fellow. From one end to the other, his
argumentation stays loyal to le Duc’s doctrine, concisely expressed
by the very definition restoration given by the French architect:
„Restaurer un édifice ce n’est pas l’entretenir, le réparer ou le
refaire, c’est le rétablir dans un état complet qui peut n’avoir
jamais existé à un moment donné.”21
Guided by the principles of the famous French architect, Révoil
deemed as legitimate the reconstruction of Neagoe Basarab’s
foundation. This fact meant sacrificing the mural paintings owed
to Dobromir Zugravul and their replacement with a new mural
ensemble in the technique of oil on a golden background, a Neo-
Byzantine replica of the original painting22 (fig. 4, 5).
Therefore, the permissiveness of remakes, reconstructions
or restitutions, sometimes implying the sacrifice of authentic
substance of a monument, used to be part of that doctrine of
restoration, leaving space to creativity through analogy. The
restorer, transposed in the spirit of the time that produced
the object of his work, could allow himself, in the absence of
any documents or precise references, to re-make certain large
lacunae. Based on his analogy and intuition, imbued by the
spirit of the time the work belonged to, the restorer could allow
remakes and additions in the ‘fashion’ of the time.
Looking today at the Archbishop’s Office in Argeş, the Trei Ierarhi
Church in Iaşi, or Târgovişte Cathedral, we could imagine what the
Princely Church would have become if the initial intention of du
Noüy had been put in practice.
Fortunately, in Argeș the principles followed by the French
restorer had to deal with the firm opposition of a different
approach of intervention on historic monuments. Architect
Grigore Cerchez built his work based on a principle considered
as faultless: the principle of authenticity23. This was expressed
through the following methodological elements:
- To restore and to conserve are no longer separate areas with
divergent methods and aims. On the contrary, conservation and
restoration represent aspects of the same discipline;
- The authentic substance of the monument has to be preserved,
as much as possible, making a balance between the aspect or the
visible shape of the monument and structure, formed as support
of the image, ensuring its whole durability scaffolding;
- The restored work comprises its authentic, historicized matter,
together with the traces of its passage through time. As a result,
additions or remakes, non-mutilating for the work, presenting an
interest spiritually, historically or aesthetically, are conserved and
transmitted to the future.;
- The respect for the authentic work is manifested through the
absence of abusive reconstitutions. Within this principle, the
condition of the ruin is accepted and conserved as such;
- The original substance of the historic monument is highlighted,
as much as possible, in relationship with the new materials
introduced in the work. Even if it is not formulated or consistently
respected, this principle of the distinctive intervention represents
an obvious concern of the 1911 restorers of the Princely Church.
259
In a text on the old church in Argeș, historian Victor Brătulescu,
former chair of the Commission for Historic Monuments, framed
Cerchez’s work in a new stage about the progress of the concept
of restoration on the Romanian territory:
“A new type of restoration was thus opened: that to respect with
piety everything that can be preserved from our forefathers,
completing only where the need, lacks or damage ask for, on
condition to make noticeable what is new from what is old
through a fine demarcation line.”24
In the succession of the above-mentioned methodological aspects
one can perceive a foreshadowing of the principles that Cesare
Brandi will expressly formulate almost half a century later.25
We sum up in a critical vision the main stages of restoration of the
Princely Court in Argeş in the period 1914-1923:
1. The archaeological exploration was first called to re-establish
the physiognomy of the fourteenth-century Princely Court,
together with the subsequent transformations and damages. This
is radically different from the strategy adopted by du Noüy at the
Argeş monastery where the original enclosure was architecturally
annihilated and archeologically ignored. It is the merit of architect
Virgil Drăghiceanu to have re-established, even if incomplete or
sometimes incorrect, the original routes of the Princely Court.26
For the first time the archaeological reality of the place emerged,
dilapidated and relatively austere in relationship with what would
have provided in elevation the enclosure walls and the princely
houses in the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries.
2. The consolidation of the structure of the Princely Church was
undoubtedly the key achievement which separated us for good
from du Noüy’s methodology. The solution provided by Cerchez27
aims to fully save the original structure of the church, preserving,
as much as possible, the authentic substance of the monument.
The premise was to treat the architecture of the church in its
 6. Image from the pronaos of The
Princely Church towards the apse,
completed after the structural con-
solidation with metallic cords. Photo
completed after the negative of the
Commission of Historic Monuments.
7. Overall image of the Princely
Church in the restituted form by
architects N. Ghika Budești and Gr.
Cerchez. The photo, taken in 1982,
presents a still unaltered facing by
the structural consolidation from the
early twentieth century.
260
complexity, the wall painting representing one of the key aspects
of the Princely Church. Structural changes brought by Cerchez
through the introduction of supplementary metallic cords, which
meant the suppression of original wood cords28, however avoiding
the perception of a major change in the original space (fig. 6).
With a disparity dictated by consolidation needs, the new cords
follow the routes of the old ones, being discretely integrated
in the inner space. The only sacrifice, considering the adopted
solution, was to suppress certain fragments of mural painting
placed in the area of metallic discs from the edges of the cords,
over the massive posts in the naos, at the level of the seated
military saints. As for the clefts or dislocation of masonry, these
were partially treated by injections, interweaving of brickwork,
remakes of certain areas of the facing.
3. The restoration of architecture constituted the instance where
it was decided to preserve as much as possible the shape and
the authentic substance of the church. The restitution provided
by architect Cerchez and N.Ghika- Ghika-Budeşti29, following a
minute research and a solidly documented project, was fully
convincing, being placed both in the public conscience and in
most treaties of specialist studies. Starting from 1914, the Princely
Church became for the researchers and the wide public alike a
monumental and austere construction with a single massive spire
over the naos, ample openings sparingly distributed, a facing
whose ornamentation was limited to the alternation of brick
apses in red ochre tonalities and river stones, stating, depending
on the light incidence, their natural brightness (fig. 7). At the level
of the facing, Cerchez preserved what he probably found from the
old plaster between joints, carrying chiselled inscriptions, carefully
polished and still preserving the traces of the original polychromy,
completed al fresco, in red ochre.30
4. For the remakes in masonry, the new bricks applied were
manually completed, conforming with the shape and the porosity
of the historic bricks. In their turn, the finishing plaster works at
the joints complied with the principle of compatibility, utilising
lime mortars of high porosity and a distinct texture versus original
joints, well compacted and polished.
Starting with the recovering of the fourteenth-century church, the
restoring architect conserved the traces of the historic eras whose
contribution in changing certain architectural details was non-
reversible. It is the case of the eighteenth-century intervention
under the boyars Bucşăneşti and Baloteşti, representing the first
ample rehabilitation of the church31, probably after a devastating
earthquake. The decision of the new founders was, together with
the necessary rehabilitation and repainting of the iconographic
ensemble, to widen the windows in the lower section of the
naos and pronaos and in the axis of the altar apse. The new
openings, with embrasures covered by wall paintings in the
style of the eighteenth century, carrying the inscriptions of the
donors, are externally decorated with stone frames, chiselled
in the style of the Brancovan era. At the same time, Cerchez
also thought necessary to preserve certain elements from the
second major intervention in 1827, marked by the presence of
the painter Pantelimon, who, following the ample rehabilitation
of the architecture, covered with a new painting the original
fresco, together with the remakes of the eighteenth century. The
buttresses32 added on the northern and southern sides of the
church, the obturation of the entrance on the southern side and
the remaking of the entrance in the western axis date back to
nineteenth century.
All these details, result of interventions from the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries33, were conserved without their distinct
presence obstructing the reading of the original architecture
of the church. Instead, after a balanced critical judgement
where aesthetic and historic and documentary values were well
pondered, Cerchez decided to remove the elements that were
incompatible with the authentic appearance of the church. As a
result, the spires covered with iron sheets over the pronaos and
the small passage added to the western wall were pulled down.
However, the attempt to restore the original image of the Princely
Church was not carried out without uncertainties or hesitations.
We sense this by carefully reading the diary of works kept by
architect Iancovici and also by examining the photographs that
document the restoration works, partly published in the Bulletin
of the Commission of Historic Monuments in 1923 and whose
negatives were rediscovered by us in the photographic archive
of the National Museum of Art. The exceptional opportunity to
make contact prints of the 18x24cm glass negatives allowed us
to examine the non-retouched images of details of architecture
and wall paintings captured during the restoration intervention.
The surprising photographic details revealed the exterior of
the tympanum of the vaults in Greek cross over the naos.
Dislocations and gaps of brickwork disclosed a serious structural
disorder, sometimes hastily resolved by supressing elements of
architecture which originally had been otherwise configured.
Between the uncertainties about the initial image of the Princely
Court, a significant aspect involved the area above the pronaos
(fig. 8). It was obvious that, initially, the staircase from the depth
of the western wall of the naos34, which at present inexplicably
stops at the level of the opening in an ogival arch in the western
tympanum, dedicated to the Transfiguration of Jesus (fig. 9),
would allow access in a room placed on top of the pronaos. In
this case, the 1914 restitution of the framing of the pronaos and
of the western tympanum, with its blind openings, appears as a
compromise dictated by the removal of the two iron spires (fig.
10).
8. Archive image (negative C.M.I.)
during restoration works of the
Princely Church in between 1914-
1923. The photo is completed over
the pronaos, after the removal of
iron spires and represents the west-
ern tympanum of the naos, including
the access to the staircase from the
depth of the western wall and the
opening to the axis, towards the inte-
rior of the church.
261
Overall, the roof of the Princely Church represents in turn an
arbitrary restitution, no matter how harmonious and convincing is
the current cover of copper sheets.
The famous 1826 veduta of the French engraver Bouquet35
(fig. 11) preserves, we think, the essential landmarks of the
architecture of the Princely Church as it used to be in the early
nineteenth century, before the additions of the spires covered
with iron sheets and the neo classic passage from the western
axis. The engraving of the French traveller presents a framing of
sharp slopes covered in shingles36. Numerous fragments from
this covering, probably remade at the time of the eighteenth-
nineteenth centuries rehabilitation, were discovered in the debris
found in the ‘recess’ of the tympanum axis of the Transfiguration
of Jesus and in the staircase built in the depth of the western wall
of the naos.
Another arbitrary addition, discreetly joining the architecture
of the church, is the perimetral basalt pavement, fixed with
cement, built after the archaeological research and the structural
consolidation of the monument. While one can talk about the
aesthetic compatibility of this addition with the constitutive
elements of the church facing, the same does not apply from the
point of view of conservation exigencies. The tightness of the
pavement, the deep foundation in cement, the imperviousness
of constituent elements created favourable conditions to the
ascension of humidity by capillarity, a process invariably detected
by the measurements that were carried out.
The restoration of wall painting represented the third chapter
in the process of recovering the Princely Church.37 Also in this
case, the premise was that to re-valorise the original pictorial
ensemble. It was, in fact, one of the most important operations
to counteract the reservation about the integrity and the
authenticity of the Argeşan monument along with the fourteenth-
 Up left: 9. Western tympanum, dedi-
cated to the Transfiguration of Jesus,
from the naos of the Princely Church.
Down left: 10. View to the western
façade of the Princely Church. In the
new version, resulted from the re-
moval of iron spires, the obturation
of the two openings was necessary,
from the axis and half northern sec-
tion of the western tympanum, as
well as the introduction of certain
false niches.
Up right: 11. The Princely Church in
262 Curtea de Argeș as in Michel Bou-
quet’s lithography from the first half
of the twentieth century.
century wall paintings. In this respect, two factors were
irremediably in contradiction one another:
- the first concerned the legitimate desire, in the conditions of
the scarce inventory of the Princely Court, to demonstrate the
authenticity of the Princely Church, unaltered by the passage of
time, thus taking it out of the shadow where it was and placing it
on the map of the grand landmarks of the Byzantine art;
- the second factor resulted from the changes suffered by the
monument in the eighteenth-nineteenth centuries, with non-
reversible effects for the architecture and the wall painting of the
Princely Church. In this respect, painter Dumitru Norocea and
his team ascertained the undeniable reality of the coexistence of
several painting layers, starting with the one from the fourteenth
century. Painter I. Mihail explicitly states it in his study published
in the Bulletin of the Commission of the Historic Monuments38
dedicated to the restoration of the Princely Church. The way the
restorers resolved the contradiction between the wish to restore
the pictorial ensemble in its authenticity and the non-reversible
reality of the work represents the main aspect which qualifies
their intervention on the wall paintings. It is about an attempt to
create the illusion of continuity in the painting of the fourteenth
century in an irremediably non homogenous space, with ample
gaps in the original painting.
To understand the difficulties which painter Norocea faced at
the debut of his work, we have to imagine the general state of
conservation of the pictorial ensemble39 (fig. 12). None of the
published images and no other source provided us an overall
image of the wall painting before the start of the restoration
works. The archive photographs we re discovered and the
stratigraphic research made in situ later allowed us to recompose
in detail, from one area to the other in the architectural space,
the irreversibly non homogenous image of the ensemble of the
wall paintings.
We therefore need to imagine that, under the deposits of
dust and smoke, the pictorial ensemble of the Princely Church
probably presented itself as a blurred mixture of a fresco painting
and retouches or repainting a secco, in a late expression of the
post-Brancovan art, marked by blunders, stylistic ambiguities,
and chromatic loudness of new pigments. We imagine the great
backgrounds repainted in Prussian blue contrasting with the
tonalities based on lead minium or chrome yellow, chromatic
relationships far too much away from the original chromatic
harmony, dominated by the dialogue between the precious lapis
lazuli background and the shades of ochre, cinnabar red, earthy
green and gold. In the general confusion, the fourteenth century
sub-layer could have probably been guessed, especially where the
repainting was made a secco, following the original compositional
structure (fig. 13).
It is the undeniable merit of painter Norocea40 and his team to
have brought to light again most of the iconographic ensemble
of the fourteenth century, contributing at the same time to the
rediscovery of essential landmarks for dating and the passage
in time of the Princely Church. The inscription which Norocea
left on the supporting plaster layer in the upper area of the
profile at the bottom of the spire indicates the wish of the 1914
restorer to explain to posterity the succession of pictorial layers,
confirming the presence of the frescoes of the fourteenth century.
We underline the fact that the restorers of the wall paintings
were confronted with the major challenge of overlapping and,
moreover, of interweaving the historic layers (figg. 14, 15), starting
from the original painting, passing through the intervention of
the eighteenth century and ending with the repainting in the
nineteenth century, mostly attributed to painter Pandeleimon
(1827).
12. Image from the tower of the
naos of the Princely Church before
the restoration during 1914-1923
(negative C.M.I.). Serious disloca-
tions of masonry are visible, together
with ample damage of the wall
painting, incisively repainted in 1827
by painter Pandeleimon.
263
Correlating direct observations with stratigraphic explorations in
laboratory, the statements of painter Mihail and the notes of the
head of the restoration site, we recomposed the methodological
structure at the basis of the work of painter Norocea and his
team41:
1. Uncovering, by mechanic means and after preliminary tests, of
the pictorial layers from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,
layers having a new support and overlapping the original
painting42.
2. The removal by physical and chemical means of the a secco
repainting applied on the original of the fourteenth century.43
3. The extraction by stacco method of fragments from the wall
painting a fresco from the eighteenth-nineteenth centuries,
overlapping the painting of the fourteenth century.44
4. Infilling lacunae45, occasionally applying a lime-sand based
arriccio and mostly utilising a supporting layer based on plaster.
In the lower section of the naos, puttying with cement (posts are
completed or a new bedding based on lime-straw-tow supporting
layer is applied), serving the remaking a fresco of the drapery.
Generally, infillings, especially based on plaster, exceed the
outlines of lacunae, being extended under the shape of a thin
supporting layer over historic layers. In some cases, as for the
vaults to the north and the west, infillings based on plaster aim to
level the area and masque the fissures and dislocations.
5. Cleaning the pictorial surface and consolidating their support.46
6. The ‘illusionistic’ retouch of pictorial surfaces without
respecting the boundaries of lacunae and sometimes substantially
changing original tonalities.47 The intervention was completed in
tempera, with a weak binding material whose nature could not be
identified.
7. Repainting great lacunar areas48, up to arbitrary iconographic
reconstitutions.
 13. Southern tympanum of the
Princely Church, Presentation of
Jesus scene. The painting of the
fourteenth century was incisively
retouched by painter Norocea.
264
8. Preserving, in the lower section of the naos, certain test boxes
containing incised inscriptions in the joints of brickwork or certain
witness areas such as the witness of the overlapping of the three
layers of painting on the eastern wall, separating the naos from
the diaconicon.
9. An arbitrary replanting, in the pronaos49, of fragments of
painting from the eighteenth-nineteenth centuries, extracted
from various areas of the naos. Repainting, in a similar arbitrary
manner, of the background left from the interval between the
fragments of replanted wall painting.
If it is difficult to assess today, in the absence of site documents,
what methods and materials the restorers have used in 1914.
However, we can observe the result of the intervention.
Numerous traces of the a secco repainting, mostly dating back to
the nineteenth century and containing a few specific pigments,
such as the Prussian blue, the chrome yellow, and the lead
minium show certain imperfections of the cleaning operations, a
fact that can be explained by the size of work and the difficulties
caused by the good adhesion of repainting. At the same time,
we can assume that painter Norocea relied on the abusive
contributions of retouch, unrestrictedly exceeding the lacunar
boundaries and covering either the non-reversible damage of the
pictorial layer, such as efflorescences and crusts, exfoliations or
the wear of the pictorial layer, or imperfections of certain cleaning
interventions.
The retouch constituted the main methodological sequence
through which the 1914 restoration resolved the final
presentation of the wall painting of the Princely Church. Its
extension, beyond the boundaries of lacunae, lent it in numerous
areas the status of re painting. The analysis of researched and
de-restored surfaces on the occasion of new conservation/
restoration works on the wall paintings taking place in a first
stage between 1981 and 1989 and then in 1990-1995 and finally
limited to a stratigraphic research between 1998 and 2001, in
parallel with the structural consolidation of the church, allowed
us to follow in detail how the authenticity of the old frescoes was
compromised. In the public conscience a more or less falsified
image of the pictorial ensemble was introduced, providing,
through the chromatism of repainting and retouches, the illusion,
from distance, of authentic pictorial surfaces. The method was
to treat the backgrounds first, then to replace what had been left
from the brilliance of the lapis lazuli with the ‘dusted’ gris made
of black and a little ultramarine. The auras, preserving here and
there traces from the gold that had been applied on an ochre
base, got through repainting a pale, chalky shade, meant to cover
the umber patches of the mixture. The fine and precise outlines
of the auras were thickened with a gross line in archaistic style.
The white lines of the auras or the lights of certain clothes or the
inscriptions that had been made in the original painting with a
white lime pigment were re drawn or re united with zinc white
in the same spirit. The same ‘colour over colour’ technique was
applied to the tones of earthy green and ochre, or the numerous
accents of cinnabar red, faded under retouches in pale tones of
earths, sometimes with additions of organic red. The categorial
relationships warm-cold, opposing for instance the red earth
standing for the base of a piece of cloth to the bright tones of
lapis lazuli were annulled in favour of monochromatic ‘tone on
tone’ relationships.
From the retouch without aesthetic or major iconographic effects,
painter Norocea and his team slipped into the area of arbitrary
interventions with chromatic changes and of drawing up to
the level of imaginary reconstitutions. Sometimes even those
iconographic references of the original painting which could
have allowed a reconstitution through analogy were ignored.
A meaningful example is in the register of pendentives, in the
space between Saint Evangelist John and Mark (figg. 16, 17). If the
1914 restorer had wished to respect, in the reconstitution of the
lacuna of the eastern upper part of the vault, the iconography of
the original painting, he should have considered the inscription
265
fragment revealing the theme of the representation existing in
that place in the fourteenth century: Mandylion. After hiding the
fragment of the original inscription under the repainted layer,
the restorer preferred to arbitrarily place in the archivolt of the
eastern vault an angel in a medallion, a debatable choice both
aesthetically and iconographically.
What surprises though is the way in which painter Norocea
managed to use the effect from a distance of his own retouches
or repainting. These seem to co exist with the original painting
in a peaceful unity, comfortable for the uninformed viewer. The
chalky and blurred appearance of retouches and repainting, the
vibrations of touches, the use of the facilities of the optic mixture,
provide from a distance the suggestion of worthy frescoes, with
all the attributes of natural aging. The ‘illusionistic’ character of
retouches practiced by Norocea is based on the effect of a false
patina, together with the suggestion of an equally false wear. A
suggestive example in this sense is the vault of proskomidia. In
such an area, the repainting and the original are impossible to
detect.
Another suggestive example is in the north-western vault of the
naos, this time in relation with the remakes of the nineteenth
century. Trying to reconstitute the lacunar zone of the scene
inscription, the restorer completes a pseudo-writing, suggesting
a degraded pictorial surface, with the layer in colour under
exfoliation. As in the earlier case, the adopted solution relies
on the optic effect from a distance, on the diffuse aspect of
retouches and repainting.
Generally, the restoration achieved by painter Norocea and his
team is characterized by the effort to make their interventions
appear convincingly of the same nature as the original. Moreover,
the ‘patina’ of retouches and repainting places them in a different
register compared to the reality of the original. At the same time,
 14. Christ Pantocrator in the naos
tower of the Princely Church. Re-
making of 1827 owed to painter
Pandeleimon, the new fresco hides
fragments of the initial painting from
the fourteenth century.
15. Western wall of the Princely
Church, under the north-western
vault. Detail from the Healing of
Mother of Peter’s Wife scene, after
removing successive repaintings,
overlapped on the sixteenth-century
fresco.
266
through the pseudo-patina, the original painting is brought to a
common denominator with the repainted surfaces in an attempt
to give a (false) sense of unity to the pictorial ensemble.
The effect of the method practiced by painter Norocea50 was
that of an aesthetic and iconographic confusion, leading to
difficulties or errors in the reading of the wall paintings of the
Princely Church. A synthesis of this experience is in the final
presentation of the pronaos of the church. Rightfully considered
one of the key areas of the iconographic ensemble, sheltering
the cycle of life and miracles of St Nicholas, the patron of the
church, as well as the niche of an impressive Deissis, comprising
the unidentified face of one of the first Bassarabs, the pronaos
of the Princely Church presents today great difficulties in the
reading of the iconographic ensemble. The fact is partly due to
the transformations suffered by the ensemble of the church.
Repainting, mainly the ones of the nineteenth century, have
eventually replaced the wall painting in the central calotte of the
pronaos, together with the cylindrical vault of the southern wing,
as well as the painting of the northern and southern walls. Ample
lacunae due to capillarity humidity might have existed in the
area of the lower register, dedicated to replanting the fragments
of the 1827 in fresco painting extracted from the naos. The
first error committed by the 1914 restorers was to separate the
lower register of the narthex from the upper section of the walls
through a false decorative profile. This addition introduced an
inexistent architectural element and fractured the iconographic
programme, covering part of the fourteenth-century painting.
Thus, the ample display of the Last Judgement, going down
from the central calotte on the eastern wall of the pronaos was
sectioned in its southern half. As a result, the lower register of
the wall, including a part of the river of fire and the image of
the archangel blowing the trumpet, was separated from the
upper register and from the image of the rich man and Lazarus.
Moreover, a false stratigraphy was created through re planning in
the lower register of the Last Judgement of a eighteenth century
military saint, partly overlapping the angel blowing the trumpet
and fresco fragments from the nineteenth century, all originating
from the pronaos and surrounded by plastering arbitrarily
decorated with the motive of drapery, specific to the register at
the bottom of the walls. The initial image of the Last Judgement,
starting from the area of the central calotte and going down to
the eastern wall of the pronaos on one side and of the opening to
the naos on the other side, was finally compromised.
A second error produced in the restoration of the pictorial
ensemble of the pronaos consisted in the blurred retouching of
the wall painting in the central calotte, together with the painting
on the archivolts of the northern and southern arches and in
the area above the eastern niche. The retouches made almost
unreadable the fragments of the original iconography of the
fourteenth century which lived on despite ample degrading and
16. North-eastern pendentive in the
naos of the Princely Church. The face
of St Evangelist Luke (actually Mark)
is intensely repainted by the 1914
restorer.
17. The north-eastern pendentive of
the Princely Church after removing
paintings from 1914 and 1827. The
original recovered painting repre-
sents the face of St Evangelist Mark.
267
lacunae caused by keying. Thus, the opportunity of a full reading
of the Last Judgement from the upper section of the Throne of
Judgement to the thrones of Apostles was considerably reduced.
Trying to characterize the restoration completed by painter
Norocea and his team, the following aspects appear essential:
- in a first stage the 1914 restorer brought to light whatever he
could recover from the original painting of the Princely Church
(figg. 18, 19, 20);
- in a second stage, he revised the whole pictorial ensemble,
irremediably non homogenous, marked by the succession of
historic layers, subordinating everything, with the support of
retouches and fanciful repainting, to his own aesthetic vision.
What did painter Norocea aim at through his methodology in
which the authentic image was recovered only to be subjected
to a new form of falsification? A first answer would concern
the reality of the original painting, parasited by the presence
of late remakes, in a manner far too distant from the Byzantine
painting of the fourteenth century. Painter Norocea strived
by all means to re-establish the lost unity of the iconographic
ensemble. A second answer is connected to the need to impose
a painting of the Princely Church in the public conscience as
an undeniably authentic ensemble which had to become an
important reference point of the Byzantine art of Palaeologan
style north of the Danube. This concern is revealed by a surprising
fact, discovered during the de-restoration works of the wall
painting in the naos tower. By removing numerous repainting and
retouches executed in 1914 by painter Norocea, we observed
the apparently inexplicable coverage in a green tonality of the
background, of the signature of the painter who had remade the
pictorial ensemble in the first half of the nineteenth century. The
inscription ‘Pandeleimon painter 1827’ had been however been
published together with a detail photo of the painter’s signature
 18. The shell of the apse of the
Princely Church, hosting the ample
representation of Mary with Jesus on
Throne, flanked by St Nicholas and
St John Chrysostom. The painting of
the fourteenth century was released
from the incisive retouches of painter
Norocea during the new restoration
initiated in 1981.
19. Fragment from Tabernacle scene
in the median register of the apse of
the Princely Church. The fourteenth
century painting was recovered in its
authenticity.
268
and the indication of its position in the interior of the tower of
the Princely Church.51 It appeared obvious that the intention of
the restorer was to make unseen the inscription of the nineteenth
century. From the debut of the works in 1914, the Patocrator
painted by Pandeleimon appeared as an embarrassing presence
for the unity of the pictorial ensemble of the fourteenth century.
The explicit inscription at the bottom of the tower, under the
southern window, in which painter Pandeleimon stated the
remaking in the nineteenth century of the original painting of the
tower, in Norocea’s opinion had to be annihilated together with
the signature of the painter, thus favouring the impression of
unaltered coherence of the fourteenth-century frescoes.
NOTES
* This article is the English version, revised and extended, of the Introduction
section of the author’s volume Arheologia picturilor murale de la Biserica Sf.
Nicolae Domnesc din Curtea de Argeș, ed. a.r.a., 2011.
1
John Ruskin, Les sept lampes de l’architecture. Illustré de dessins de l’auteur.
Traduit de l’anglais par G. Elwall, suivi de John Ruskin par Marcel Proust. Edition
Denoël, 1987. First published in 1849, re-edited with revisions and notes by
Ruskin himself, the book contains a series of sentences and commentaries about
the discipline of restoration. After sentence 31, « Ce qu’on appelle prétendument
restauration n’est que la pire forme de destruction », the aesthetician of the
nineteenth century, placed in opposition to his contemporary Viollet-le-Duc, made
the following sharp observations: « Ne parlons donc pas de restauration. La chose
elle-même n’est en somme qu’un mensonge. Vous pouvez faire le modèle d’un
édifice, comme vous le pouvez d’un corps, et votre modèle peut renfermer la
carcasse des vieux murs, tout comme votre figure pourrait renfermer le squelette,
mais je n’en vois pas l’avantage et peu m’importe. Le vieil édifice est détruit. » (p.
204, 205)
2
James Beck, Michael Daley, Art et Restauration. Enjeux, impostures et ravages.
Traduit de l’anglais par Jean Courthial. Aléas Editeur, 1998. Original title is Art
Restoration. The Culture, the Business and the Scandal, John Murray (Publishers)
Ltd, 1993. In their ample commentaries about well-known restorations which
stirred equally numerous controversies, the authors attack at least three major
aspects of the area: the shocking transformation of the appearance of the
restored object; the mystification of the restoration intervention seen as a ‘magic
action’; and the frenzy of radical changes.
3
Representing a type of balance between the Anglo-Saxon concept of
conservation and the French one of restoration, Cesare Brandi reunited under
the term of Restauro the whole complexity of an area which, in the thirties of
the twentieth century he wished out of the incidence of an artistic-craftsmanship
activity, together with Giulio Carlo Argan, bringing it in the scientific area. See
in this respect the collection of papers La teoria del Restauro nel Novecento da
Riegl a Brandi. Atti del Convegno Internazionale. Viterbo, 12-15 novembre 2003,
Nardini Editore.
4
The term derestaurare – dérestaurer - was coined on the occasion of the study
reunion of SFIIC dedicated to wall painting and held in Dijon, 25-27 March 1993.
The paper of Ségolène Bergeon presented in the introduction was entitled
Quelques aspecs historiques à propos de restaurer ou dérestaurer les peintures
murales, p. 9-26, in the congress proceedings under the title Les anciennes
restaurations en peinture murale, SFIIC, 29, rue de Paris, 77420 Champs-sur-
Marne.
5
There is here a part of the Brandian theory defined by his Theory of Restoration
/ Teorie a Restaurării (Ed Meridiane, 1996, translation by Ruxandra Balaci, preface
and glossary by Dan Mohanu) and especially the first chapter dedicated to the
definition of restoration. The translation of the Romanian edition, one of the first
European translations of the volume, was based on the 1977 re-edited version of
the Brandian text Teoria del restauro, Piccola Biblioteca Einaudi.
6
Despite the rich bibliography available, this key monument of the early starts
of Wallachia is still insufficiently researched if we refer only to the repertoire
construction of its iconographic program, its inscriptions or a palaeographic study.
7
Historic information about the succession of earthquakes in Wallachia is very
poor. Pavel Chihaia mentions strong earthquakes which struck the head city of the
Bassarabs in 1475 and 1484. Only in the nineteenth century we learn again about
seismic movements of high intensity such as the great earthquake in 1802 or
the one in 1836. The shakings would have mostly affected the Church of Neagoe
Basarab. (Din cetăţile de scaun ale Ţării româneşti, Ed. Meridiane, 1974, p. 63).
No document or testimony passed on by later generations mentions the events
that originated the ample rehabilitation in the eighteenth century. It is also to be
noted the contradictory way in which the disasters that caused the collapse of the
bell tower of the fourteenth-sixteenth century were transmitted, being very close
to us, indicating how confused and unstable historic memory can be. In fact, only
73 years after the actual collapse of the old bell tower, accounts ‘from ancestors’
report that either the construction vanished in 1838, ‘destroyed by the great
earthquake’, or in 1846, after a strong wind (Arh. Iancovici, Jurnalul lucrărilor,
în Buletinul Comisiunii Monumentelor Istorice, anul X-XVI, 1917-1923, p.94).
However, there is an unequivocal note of a contemporary about the disaster
at the Princely Court on a Cliucel in 1678 which had belonged to Mythropolit
Varlaam and then reached to Church Saint Angels in Curtea de Argeş: „Leat 1830,
iunie 19, s-au surpat clopotniţa Bisericii Domneşti” (Year 1830, June 19, the bell
tower of the Princely Church fell in). The information, communicated by priest
Ioan Ionescu in Oltenia Metropolitan, X/1958, 9-10, p. 681-684, is pointed out by
Nicolae Constantinescu in Curtea de Argeş (1200-1400), Asupra începuturilor Ţării
Româneşti, Ed Academiei RSR, Bucureşti, 1984.
8
Overshadowed by the foundation of Neagoe Basarab, the Princely Church starts
to enter oblivion since the sixteenth century. On cartographic representations
such as the Viennese map of I. Sambucus in 1566 only the legendary Monastery
of Neagoe appears (according to Constantinescu, op. cit, p. 12). The first church
of the Bassarabs is referred to only by foreign travellers such as Paul of Alep.
However, as we get closer to the time of the Romanian Renaissance from the
second half of the nineteenth century, we note a higher interest of historians and
archaeologists, which represented our early preoccupations with the protection
of the heritage - Alexandru Odobescu, Cezar Bolliac, Al. Pelimon, D. Papazoglu
– for the old church of St Nicholas. Their predecessor in eighteenth century
was Mythropolit Neofit the Cretan, former tutor of Constantin Mavrocordat’s
offspring, whose travelogue mentions the Princely Church (Maria Ana Musicescu
şi Grigore Ionescu, Biserica Domnească din Argeş, Ed. Meridiane, Bucureşti, 1976,
p. 8 ).
9
It is mainly about the nineteenth-century addition of the buttresses, of the iron
sheet spires (1851), and of the Classicist porch (1875), in stark contrast with the
austere Byzantine style of the original construction. 1851 is the year in which
the Dervent iron sheet was placed on the pronaos roofing and the spires, which
would have been existing “many years before they were covered” (Iancovici, op.
cit, p. 94.). Pavel Chihaia also thinks that the wooden spires existed in 1840 when
Bouquet drew the church, but these were not to be seen “from the south-western
angle where he looked from” (Pavel Chihaia, op. cit., p. 83).
10
The image of interdisciplinarity is provided by the exemplary issue of the
Bulleting of the Commission of Historic Monuments in 1923 dedicated to the
Princely Court in Argeş and dedicated to the then passed historian Dimitrie Onciul.
11
Consolidation works of the structure, completed in early 2000, appealed, to
rapidly masque the traces of temporary obturations of the fissures in brickwork,
completed with plaster, to sacrificing the existing fittings which represented, in
their way, a poorly X-ray research on the Princely Church.
12
Grigore Ionescu, Sur les débuts des travaux de restauration des monuments
historiques en Roumanie et l’activité de l’architecte français André Lecomte du
20. The painting of the fourteenth
century from the apse of the Princely
Church. Fragment from the Eucharist
of the Apostles register. .
269
Noüy en ce domaine, in Revue Roumaine d’Histoire de l’Art, serie Beaux-Arts,
tome XVII, 1980, p. 83-126.
13
On the activity of the French architect, see the volume, accompanied by
references for each chapter, by Pierre-Marie Auzas, Inspecteur général des
Monuments historiques, Eugène Viollet le Duc 1814-1879, Caisse Nationale
des Monuments Historiques et des Sites, 1979, edited on the occasion of the
centenary of the death of the French architect and restorer.
14
Grigore Ionescu, O nouă cartă internaţională privind conservarea şi restaurarea
monumentelor istorice, in „Monumente istorice. Studii şi lucrări de restaurare”,
Ed. Tehnică, 1967. The paper was prompted by the adoption of the Venice Charter
at the Second International Congress of Architects and Technicians of Historic
Monuments held on 25-31 May 1964.
15
Buletinul Comisiunii Monumentelor Istorice, Anul X-XVI, 1917-1923, Curtea
Domnească din Argeş.
16
“(...) through the skilful cooperation of Mr Norocea, supported by painters
I. Mihail and G. Teodorescu” / „...prin conlucrarea pricepută a d-lui Norocea,
ajutat de pictorii I. Mihail şi G. Teodorescu”, is the opinion of historian Virgil
Drăghiceanu. Curtea Domnească din Argeş. Note istorice şi arheologice, în BCMI,
1917-1923, p. 40.
17
As one can see in the archive images, the French architect supported the church
at the end of the nineteenth century – in 1898 according to Iancovici – “inside
and outside, waiting for the necessary credits to start restoration” / „pe dinăuntru
şi pe dinafară, în aşteptarea creditelor necesare pentru începerea restaurării”,
cf. V. Drăghiceanu, op. cit., p. 78. Oak posts are applied in 1903 as well (BCMI,
1917-1923, Arh. Iancovici, Jurnalul lucrărilor, p. 94) We thank Tereza Sinigalia
for bringing to our attention the two old photos, one of which is a view of the
church from the south-eastern corner. These pictures belong to her grandfather,
author of a survey on the princely foundation. The photo including the church,
together with exterior support, carries on the back the inscription of one of the
photographs of the Commission of the Historic Monuments and the Princely
Church in Argeş. It reads: “Heinrich N. Haydvogel Piteşti, 23 ian. 1905”.
18
Collection of documents regarding especially the progress of restoration at
the church of Neagoe Basarab, published by the Ministry of Cults and Public
Instruction. Restaurarea monumentelor istorice. 1865-1890. Acte şi rapoarte
oficiale. Bucuresci, Tipografia Carol Göbl, 1890.
19
Ministry of Cults and Public Instruction, cit, p. 222-223. It is a “Petition
submitted to Mr Prime-Minister by several architects, painters and sculptors,
showing the errors made in the restoration of historic monuments and asking
for an architecture-archaeological Commission to be appointed to monitor the
good restoration of monuments.” / „Petiţiune dată d-lui Prim Ministru de cătră
 mai mulţi arhitecţi, pictori, şi sculptori, arătând greşelile făcute în restaurarea
monumentelor istorice şi cerând să se numească o Comisiune architecto-
arheologică, care să supravegheze buna restaurare a monumentelor.”
20
Ibidem, p. 246-261. “Letter to Mr Architect H. Révoil to the Ministry of Cults
to which he presents his reports on the restoration of historic monuments”
/ „Scrisoarea d-lui architect H. Révoil cătră Ministerul Cultelor pre lângă care
presintă rapoartele sale asupra restaurărei monumentelor istorice.”
21
Pierre-Marie Auzas, op. cit., p.130.
22
Ministry of Cults..., op. cit., p129, 141, 155.
23
Grigore Cerchez, Restaurarea Bisericii Domneşti, BCMI, 1917-1923, p. 77-
94. Cerchez visits the old Princely Church to “save this monument from being
demolished” / „pentru a scăpa acest monument de la dărâmare” (p. 77), a
methodology to be applied by architect Lecomte du Nöuy in the case of St
Nicholas foundation as well. Later, the CMI commission chaired by Ion Kalinderu,
decided to entrust the consolidation and restoration of the church to the
270 architects Cerchez and N. Ghica-Budeşti, then Chief architect of the Commission
of Historic Monuments, works to start in 1911.
24
Victor Brătulescu, Curtea de Argeş, Institutul de Arte Grafice „Marvan” S.A.R. ,
1941, p.11-12.
25
Cesare Brandi, Teoria del Restauro, Piccola Biblioteca Einaudi, 1977. The first
translation of the Brandian theory is the 1988 Spanish edition (M. Angeles
Toajas Roger), followed by the translation in Romanian (Ruxandra Balaci – Dan
Mohanu ) in 1996. Then it was translated in Czech (J. Spacek) in 2000, in Greek (I.
Gabrielides) and in French (C. Mouterde) in 2001, and in Portuguese (B. Mugayar
Kühl) in 2004. La teoria del restauro nel novecento da Riegl a Brandi, Viterbo, 12-
15 novembre 2003, a cura di Maria Andaloro, Nardini Editore.
26
Virgil Drăghiceanu, op. cit, p. 9-76.
27
Grigore Cerchez, op. cit, p. 77-94.
28
Cutting wood connectors in the western span had taken place before the
works in 1911, after the installation of the ‘cafas’. Cf. Gr. Cerchez, op. cit., p.79. V.
Drăghiceanu – op. cit., p. 40 – informs us that around 1887 a priest had ordered
cutting the chords inside the church.
29
To continue the presentation by Cerchez and architect Iancovici of the
restoration works, in the mentioned Bulletin Ghika-Budeşti publishes a study on
The Architecture of the Princely Church / Arhitectura Bisericii Domneşti (p.105-
121).
30
A project of ours from 2001 (O.N.P.P., Nr. 1103/08.06.01) which, unfortunately,
was not implemented, provided for the careful conservation of old fittings,
together with the traces of original polychromy. Therefore, colour was applied to
complete geometric shapes such as interrupted line, in the space between joints,
carefully polished.
31
“Between 1748, the year of completion of the church in Bucşăneşti, and 1752,
the date of completion of the church in Cepari, one has to put the first restoration
of the Princely Church” / „Între 1748, data terminării bisericii din Bucşăneşti,
şi 1752, data terminării bisericii din Cepari, trebuie pusă prima restaurare a
Bisericii Domneşti” considers V. Drăghiceanu. Op. cit., p. 34. Teodora Voinescu
places the restoration of the eighteen century right after 1759, attributing the
remaking works of the painting to Radu Zugravu. The researcher rejects the later
dating, 1766, proposed by N. Iorga, since one of the founder of the rehabilitation
of the Princely Church had died in 1760. Teodora Voinescu, Radu Zugravu, Ed.
Meridiane, Bucureşti, 1978, p. 17.
32
A report, nr. 25/22 Oct. 1879, found in the Fund of the Episcopate of Argeşului,
by custodians Gh. Sachelar şi C. Drăgănescu, recounts the rehabilitation of the
foundation and of the northern buttress, attacked by humidity, with stone,
brick and Oieşti lime (cf. George Georgescu, Lucrări de restaurare la Biserica
Domnească din Curtea de Argeş la 1851 şi 1879, paper delivered at the session
on 12 XI 1993, at Curtea de Argeş Museum). As a result, buttresses had been
executed prior to 1879. The construction of the southern buttress also meant
the obturation of the entrance on the southern side which responded under the
south-western side of the naos. Also, Iancovici mentions that together with the
buttresses, iron connectors were installed “which did not produced the expected
and wished result, being an unsuitable adjustment in terms of type and size” /
„care nu au produs efectul dorit şi aşteptat fiind nepotrivite ca mod de adaptare şi
dimensiuni” (cf. Iancovici, op cit. P. 94).
33
Nicolae Constantinescu, who restarted the archaeological explorations at the
Princely Court, correcting many observations by Drăghiceanu, talks about “two
generations of interior levelling, both illustrating the remakes that had taken
place in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (1827-1851) as discovered coins
confirm” / „două generaţii de nivelare interioară ambele ilustrând refacerile ce
au avut loc în sec. XVIII şi XIX (1827-1851) cum atestă şi monedele găsite.” Curtea
de Argeş (1200-1400). Asupra începuturilor Ţării Româneşti. Ed. Academiei RSR,
1984, p. 93.
34
Cerchez, op. cit., p. 82, thought that the staircase from the depth of the western
wall of the naos led to “a hiding placed in the attic of pronaos” / „o ascunzătoare
aşezată în podul tindei”.
35
Vue de la ville et du monastère d’Argis. Dessiné d’après nature par Michel
Bouquet. Lith. Par Eug. Ciceri. Published at the beginning of the Bulletin CMI,
1917-1923, dedicated to the Princely Court in Argeş.
36
Conviction expressed by Iancovici, too, op. cit. p. 94: “it was covered from the
start with fir wood shingles with joints” / „a fost de la început acoperită cu şindrilă
de brad cu încheietură”.
37
I. Mihail, Pictura Bisericii Domneşti din Curtea-de-Argeş, în BCMI, 1917-1923, p.
172-189.
38
Op. cit, p. 173. Painter Mihail distinguishes, besides the original layer of the
fourteenth century, successive remakes from 1750, 1827 and 1847, the last ones
being deemed of no artistic interest.
39
The first close examination, during the 1911 restoration, was carried out by
architect Iancovici, after the construction of the interior and exterior scaffolding,
“to visit in detail the St Nicholas church in Curtea de Argeş” / „pentru vizitarea
în mod amănunţit a bisericii Sf. Nicolae Domnesc din Curtea de Argeş” (Arh.
Iancovici, op. cit., p. 94). On this occasion, one “could easily see all damage
suffered by the brickwork in the whole church” / „vedea foarte lesne toate
degradările suferite de zidăria întregii biserici”. However, we are not told what
that damage at the level of the wall painting consisted of. In his turn, Cerchez
discusses (op. cit. p.79) only the damage about the conservation status of the
architecture, but in doing so, he mentions also the issues affecting the wall
painting. The architect who, thanks to his consolidation solution saved the
Princely Church, notes the presence of infiltrations through the roofing holes
(especially those caused by posts), the dismantling of vaults, cracking of arches
supporting the spire, the collapse of the vaults by almost 1 m. The spire would
present one “fully dislocated” / „cu totul dislocată” side due to the supporting
system launched by du Nöuy, and the walls, with areas out of the vertical, were in
their turn crossed by deep fissures.
40
V. Drăghiceanu, referring to the restoration of the wall paintings inside the
Princely Church, points out, via an anecdote, that Norocea and his helpers,
painters Mihail and Theodorescu, had the privilege to find under the recent layers
the frescoes of the fourteenth century: “it was quite fortunate to find the old
frescoes almost intact, covered with two or even three new paintings” / „a fost
destul de norocit ca să găsească frescurile vechi aproape intacte, acoperite cu
două sau chiar trei zugrăveli noi” (op. cit., p.86). Ionescu highlights in his turn the
merits of restorers, mentioning Norocea and Mihail only, in being able to take out
the original frescoes of the church (Gr. Ionescu, Curtea de Argeş. Istoria oraşului
prin monumentele lui, Bucureşti, Fundaţia pentru Literatură şi Artă „Regele Carol”, Brâncuşi had his house, a beautiful and robust neo-Romanian construction
1940, p. 35). where, in conditions highly marked starting with a while by the communist
41
The copy from the Bulletin of the Commission of Historic Monuments in museography, part of his works is displayed. In the early years of the Commission
1923 where painter Norocea made his annotations about the restoration and of Historic Monuments, Norocea is selected to be part of a team that includes
archeological research site was kindly made available by former director of Curtea also A. Mihăilescu, Poitevin and A. Baltazar, having the mission to increase the
de Argeş Museum, Nicolae Moisescu, himself author of a monograph dedicated collection fund through “twenty copies of old religious paintings – paintings
to the Princely Court – Biserica Domnească din Curtea de Argeş, Curtea de Argeş, and watercolours…” / „…douăzeci copii de vechi zugrăveli bisericeşti – picturi şi
1997. acuarele…” (BCMI, oct-dec. 1909, Anul II, Nr. 4, p.188). Also, from the same source
42
I. Mihail, op. cit. we learn that “In what concerns the scholarships for the study of the Byzantine
43
Mihail dates the start of operations in 1916 (op. cit., p. 187). art, whose the honourable Administration of the Office of the Church recorded
44
Ibidem, p. 187, 189. “… it was first aimed to take out to light the primitive this year in its budget, we mention that they were offered to Mr Al. Mihăilescu
paintings, those from the fourteenth century, and where they were absent, there and D. Norocea, respectable graduates of the Belles Arts School in Bucharest
were left those coming next in terms of age” / „…s-a căutat în primul rând să se and young men with commendable diligence to know our old religious painting.”
scoată la lumină picturile primitive, cele din veacul al XIV-lea, iar unde acestea / „În ceia ce priveşte bursele pentru studiul picturei bizantine, pe care Onor
lipseau, se lăsau acele care veneau la rând ca vechime. ” (p. 187). Uncovering Administraţie a Casi Bisericii le-a înscris anul acesta în bugetul său, amintim că ele
was preceded by tests “to find out if the old fresco was still underneath” / au fost conferite d-lor Al. Mihăilescu şi D. Norocea, distinşi absolvenţi ai Şcoalei 271
„ca să se afle dacă se mai găsea vechea frescă dedesubt…” (p. 189). As for the de Arte Frumoase din Bucureşti şi tineri cu lăudabilă râvnă pentru cunoaşterea
paintings from 1750 and 1827, probably with reference to the al secco section, it vechei noastre picturi bisericeşti.” The technical skills and the gift of the two
is mentioned that “… these were cleaned revealing the old painting” / „…acestea students with remarkable earlier results are noted. Norocea had proved himself
au fost curăţite scoţându-se al iveală pictura veche.”(p. 187). Mihail further capable of “rehabilitating the paintings from Govora Monastery” / „repararea
mentions: “… if the result [of tests, our note] were positive, the extraction piece picturilor de la Mănăstirea Govora.”
by piece of overlapped plastering would be done” / „…dacă rezultatul (sondajelor 51
However, Architect Iancovici mentions that painter Pandeleimon left his
n.n.) era pozitiv, se proceda la extragere bucată cu bucată a tencuielilor signature “at the bottom of the dome, over the pendentives” / „la baza cupolei,
suprapuse.” (pp. 187-188) deasupra pandantivilor” (op. cit., p. 94). The photo of the signature had been
45
Ibidem, p. 189. “… the holes done during passed rehabilitation here and there published at page 38 in Drăgiceanu’s study devoted to the Princely Court in Argeş
were filled, for the adhesion of overlapped plastering, and these were completed (BCMI, 1917-1923).
with neutral tones” / „…se astupau găurile făcute în cursul reparaţiunilor trecute,
din loc în loc, pentru ca să se prindă tencuielile suprapuse şi se completau acestea
cu tonuri neutre.” There is a mention about infilling and a chromatic reintegration
of keying generated by the overlap of new frescoes from 1827.
46
Ibidem, p. 189. The pictorial surface taken out from the overlapping of
repainting “… would be washed from the lime powder covering it” / „…se spăla
de pulberea de var ce o acoperea…”, and if necessary, the next step was to
consolidate the support layer of the painting: “… its plaster would be hardened
and secured if it had come out of the wall” / „…se întărea şi se fixa tencuiala ei,
dacă se desprinsese de pe zid. ”
47
Ibidem, p. 189. Though, speaking about the ‘additions’ of keying, Mihail
states that these were treated with ‘neutral tones’ / „tonuri neutre” (v. nota
36), in another passage Norocea’s assistant details the following: “they have
the advantage to keep the unity of the ensemble and the general harmony; in
opposition with the other kind of restoration, more scientific, whose spirit is not
to fill the painting where absent except for a general and uniform neutral tone”
/ „…au avantagiul că păstrează unitatea ansamblului şi al armoniei generale; în
opoziţie cu celălalt mod de restaurare, mai ştiinţific, şi al cărui spirit este de a nu
completa pictura în locurile unde lipseşte, decât cu ton neutru general şi uniform.”
The mentioned example for the latter mode of intervention is St John Church in
Suceava.
48
Ibidem, p. 189. It is mentioned : “the repainting of scenes where the painting
was absent” / „zugrăvirea din nou a unor scene acolo unde pictura lipsea”,
indicating the south-western side of the naos.
49
Ibidem, p. 187-88. Extracted frescoes were replanted “in the lower section of
the walls, where any kind of painting was completely absent” / „în partea de jos a
pereţilor în partea unde lipsea cu desăvârşire orice pictură.”
50
Graduated at Belles Arts School of Bucharest, mentioned in a transcript of
grades not far from that of Constantin Brâncuşi, the painter Dumitru Norocea was
considered a remarkable artistic personality. Not far from the Princely Church,
 THE IMPACT OF PAST RESTORATIONS ON A VERY FRAGILE PAINTING TECHNIQUE: THE APPLIED RELIEF
BROCADES IN TRANSYLVANIAN ALTARPIECES
Cristina SERENDAN
272
The in-depth analysis of painting technique is an essential part of
preliminary procedures for a conservation project. The complete
understanding of how that painting was created and what are the
original materials is essential for an optimal treatment decision,
not only in what concerns the materials used for conservation but
also for the establishing of a correct methodology. When such
understanding is missing due to ignorance, lack of knowledge of
painting techniques or lack of proper investigation techniques, it
can lead to the application of a wrong conservation methodology
going even to irreversible destruction of an artwork. This is
the case of a less known and researched painting technique in
Romania, the so-called applied brocade technique.
Applied relief brocades have been identified so far in Romania
only in three places, all of which in the region of Transylvania, in
panel paintings belonging to altarpieces1 . The three altarpieces
have been dated by art historians in the second half of the 15th
century and for all of them the authors remain anonymous.
The art historical studies do not indicate any kind of common
origin or relation between these workshops, except for the
close geographical vicinity2 . Being a well-documented painting
technique mainly used in Central and Northern Europe in the
15th and the beginning of the 16th century, its scarce presence
in Transylvania is even more valuable as it can link the local
studio practice with workshops in Europe. Applied brocade with
its characteristics of design (given by the mould) and material
composition is also considered to be an important indicator for
authorship as each workshop had its own set of moulds with
which they obtained the relief.
The technique consists in using relief sheets with various patterns,
gilded and decorated with coloured glazes, which are applied on
panels in an intermediate stage of the painting. The raised pattern
of the relief is obtained by casting or pressing a filling masse in
a mould which has been previously engraved in low relief. After
casting, they were removed from the mould in form of relief
sheets which could be stored and used whenever necessary.
Depending on the composition of the relief mass, the sheets
could also be cut in the required shape and glued on the surface.
This technique allowed artists to produce an unlimited number of
identical ornaments in a very easy and inexpensive way and yet
having a strong illusionistic effect in painting or sculpture3 .
In 1430-1530 the technique had its mature phase, favoured by
the spreading of the rich brocade fabrics produced by Italian
manufacturers. These fabrics quickly became a new trend in
fashion and interior design all around Europe as an attribute
of richness, power and superiority. The artists adapted the
technique and style of applied cast reliefs according to the
appearance of the rich textiles and this is the period when tin-
relief textiles in painting became common practice in many
prominent workshops.
Applied relief brocades appear in Transylvanian painting in two
morphological types:
- as local applied brocade in which individual sheets of relief are
applied on specific zones, representing a floral motif. They are
to be found on the garment of the Virgin Mary in Mălâncrav
altarpiece.
- as continuous applied brocade in which juxtaposed sheets of
relief completely cover the surface of precious textile. This type is
found on two altarpieces: the Dupuș altarpiece and the Târnava
altarpiece.
The first type sets on the altarpiece in Mălâncrav. Designed as the
main altarpiece of the church, the work should date back to the
second half of the 15th century. The technique of applied brocade
was used on the central panel in the form of individual relief
sheets with floral motifs decorating the garment of the Virgin
Mary and the pillows on her throne (fig. 1). The relief ornaments
were intended to imitate heavy voided velvets in which the
areas of looped gold threads stand up above the silk pile. We
can distinguish 3 different floral motifs arranged on the surface
at regular intervals. The main pattern is the pomegranate motif
surrounded by small little flowers (fig. 2). Two other different
flowers of smaller size enrich the brocade decoration.
From the literature and technique reconstructions, we know
that the applied brocades were cast or pressed on moulds made
from different materials like stone, wood, metal or even ground
preparation on wooden panels. Depending on the material, the
engraved pattern would have been finer or coarser. A closer look
at the texture of the Mălâncrav relief reveals regular rows of
striations, arranged on the surface in a very uniform way, with a
regular impression or mark made on the surface indicating the
starting point in the upper part on the rows. The aspect of the
striation is suggesting that they were obtained by pressure in
a soft and plastic material with a tool similar to a comb (fig. 3).
All of the applied brocades on the Mălâncrav altarpiece have
been decorated with coloured glazes which today are severely
adulterated by heavy retouchings. In many areas it is very difficult
to distinguish between the original glaze and the overpainting,
the overall appearance of the surface being unclear .
The final aspect of the striations of the applied relief sheet is
conceptually similar to another painting technique imitating the
precious textiles, in which the striated texture is obtained not
by engraving a mould, but by engraving or tracing directly on
the ground layer. To an observer standing at a relatively short
distance this texture of the surface is hardly perceptible, but at
a closer examination the difference between the two technical
effects is significant (figs. 4, 5, 6). However, when retouchings or
1. The Virgin Mary and the pillows
on her throne.
2. The pomegranate motif sur-
rounded by small little flowers
273
overpaintings are overlapping surfaces already affected by losses
in the paint layer, and the various textures are not completely
understood, the result is an unclear appearance, and confusion
can be made between the different painting techniques (fig. 7).
In this case, the restorer is tempted to apply the conservation
treatment evenly, without even suspecting a change in materials
between the two areas.
A similar situation might have happened on the Dupuș altarpiece,
where, despite a much richer application of applied brocades,
some of these precious reliefs happen to be unfortunately
flattened and permanently destroyed (fig. 8). Here, the type of
continuous applied brocade has been used for the imitation of
textiles on its both sides: the inner side (the Feast side) and the
outer side of the corpus. Their distribution within the composition
is aleatory – most likely they were applied at master’s preference.
Here the author did not limit his artistic repertoire to a single
brocade pattern for the relief, but used several ones, each of them
requiring a different mould. And to make their appearance even
more illusionistic, some of the reliefs have different finesse of the
texture.
Two styles of patterns can be distinguished (fig. 9):
a) Brocades with a simple design and simpler relief technique,
where regular and parallel striations are alternating with flat
zones originally filled with paint. Such relief requires a relatively
simple engraving of the mould.
b) Brocades with serpentine pattern combining floral, foliate
and geometric motifs, with dynamic striation zones alternated
with flat areas filled with paint. Such brocades show a more
complex relief and a higher density of striation, requiring a more
complex labour in the engraving of the mould. To enhance the
three-dimensional illusion of the brocades, the striations in the
relief are placed at different levels. Some of them come forward,
 Down left: 3. The striation obtained
by pressure in a soft and plastic ma-
terial with a tool similar to a comb.
In the center and right: 4, 5, 6. The
striated texture obtained not by
engraving a mould, but by en-
graving or tracing directly on the
ground layer.
274
highlighting only certain elements of the pattern. The relief has a
more dynamic structure not only in the heights of striations but
also in the character of the engraved lines. They are shorter and
finer than in the other style of pattern, and sometimes groups of
lines change orientation.
In both cases, the brocades would have a bicolour aspect. Larger
garments were obtained by juxtaposition of several relief sheets
without necessarily continuing the pattern.
The brocade reliefs in Dupuș are applied directly on the ground
and not on a base colour as it is the case in Malanvcrav. Material
and stratigraphic analyses detected the presence of a thin layer
of carbon black between the preparation of the panel and the
adhesive of the relief sheet, which has been interpreted as an
underdrawing4. Sometimes their edges are overlapping the
surrounding painting, showing that they have been inserted in
the pictorial composition at an intermediate stage of the painting
process or even during the final stages. The last touches in the
construction of an element like hair or garment are in some cases
covered by the applied brocade relief (fig. 10, 11).
These areas have a complex stratigraphic structure, with materials
sensitive to heat and conservation substances. The relief itself is
composed from the relief mass consisting of a very thin layer of
calcium sulphate and proteinic binder (the same ingredients as in
the ground layers) which sets on the panel through a very thick
layer of adhesive based on a mixture of pigments (lead white, lead
– tin yellow, cinnabar, Cu based pigments, earthy pigments and
organic red) bound with oil. This adhesive has also the structural
role of reinforcing the very thin mass of the relief which varies
from 20 to 47 microns on the top of the striations. The structure
continues with a tin foil applied as the only gilding metal foil. An
isolation or adhesive layer was identified between the relief mass
and the tin foil. The flat areas in the relief have been originally
filled with colour, applied during the last stages of the painting
process.
By comparison with the altarpiece from Mălâncrav, the Dupuș
brocades are particularly impressive for the finesse of the texture
and the complexity of the pattern. The fine texture of the relief
(e.g. the density of the striations) varies from 10 – 13 striations/
cm for the first type up to 16 to 20 striations/cm for the more
complex ones.
Despite their good stability on the ground, these applied brocade
sheets remain very fragile. This fragility consists mainly in the
behaviour of the composing materials to natural aging, to external
deterioration factors such as microclimate and air pollutants,
and most of all to human action. As for the latter, the past
restorations have had an important impact in the current state
of conservation. Today, some of these applied relief brocades are
flattened most probably because of past restoration procedures
(figs. 12-13). This loss of original appearance is irreversible – the
relief mass has been deformed by the application of heat and
pressure, two of the main ingredients in the procedures for
the consolidation of paint layers. Consolidation treatments are
intended to regain stability and cohesion in the materials that
compose the layered structure of a painting. The areas in need
for such treatments used to be identified by restorers through
visual examination of the surface and other mechanical tests. In
case of discontinuity in the general stability of the surface, visible
Up left: 7. The overlapping surfaces
already affected by losses in the
paint layer.
Down left: 8. The Dupuș altarpiece.
Right: 9. Particular of the Dupuș
altarpiece.
275
through different surface texture, flaking or powdery paint or loss
of cohesion between different layers, the consolidation treatment
is needed. But when these discontinuities have their origin in a
different painting technique, the necessity for consolidation must
be strongly assessed, and the procedures adapted according
to the specificity of that particular painting technique. When
particular painting techniques are not properly known by the
restorer, the risk of an inappropriate treatment is high. The
damage on the applied brocades on the altarpiece from Dupuș
can be explained by misinterpretation of the surface texture and
application of an inappropriate consolidation treatment.
In the absence of a detailed documentation of past interventions
it is difficult if not impossible to attribute the damage to a
certain restoration campaign. In the history of the altarpiece,
several interventions of restoration took place during the last
two centuries. The oldest documented one (a “restoration” in
the broader sense that was attributed to this term) dates back to
the first decades of the 18th century, when a larger number of
Transylvanian altarpieces have been restored. On this occasion,
 Up: 10, 11. The last touches in the
construction of an element like hair
or garment are in some cases cove-
red by the applied brocade relief.
Down: 12, 13. Some of the applied
relief brocades are flattened becau-
se of past restoration procedures.
276
apart from local repairs (including overpaintings on deteriorated
panels) some of the altarpieces have been transformed in
an “improved” version of themselves. The need for these
transformations had its roots in the alteration of their original
structure due to the permanently loss of structural elements
such as predellas or cornices. On the other hand, this was a good
occasion to bring new aesthetical values to the altarpieces by
adding further decorations or replacing the missing parts with
new elements. This is also the case of the Dupuș altarpiece,
which is an assembly of components from two altarpieces,
to which a baroque frame has been added in 1720 when this
reconfiguration took place5. The corpus, on which the applied
relief brocades are found, is of unknown provenance. From
1720 onward there is a large gap in the documentation of the
interventions on the altarpiece. The next known restoration took
place in the ‘70s when an extensive campaign for the restoration
of a group of 22 Transylvanian altarpieces took place under
the coordination of Gisela Richter. A very brief presentation of
restoration interventions is given in the publication that followed
the campaign6; regarding the Dupuș altarpiece, the text mentions
ironing.
Ironing was the typical method for the application of heat in
consolidation procedures, and it is still used today.
The addition of heat in consolidation treatment has the great
advantage that, combined with moisture, it helps softening
the underlayers. Today the level of heat can be very precisely
controlled using electric spatulas or electric irons, but only in
relatively recent times conservators have begun to reduce heat
levels as much as possible. On applied relief brocades heat
can bring a great amount of damage due to the content of
thermoplastic materials in its structure and to the fragility of the
relief. And the morphology of the damaged applied brocades
in Dupuș indicates that such a treatment was applied on those
surfaces, in the attempt to flatten an area which was not intended
to be flat from the very beginning.
The original appearance of the applied relief brocades on the
Dupuș altarpiece is lost for good also due to natural oxidation
processes, sometimes accelerated by microclimate factors . This
Up: 14, 15. Many surfaces have
lost their colours, surviving as fade
memories of what they would have
looked like in the small pigment
fragments found here and there on
the relief.
Down: 16, 17. Heavy retouchings
are reconstructing some of the
polychromies of the simpler bro-
cades (style a) in a rather crude or
confused manner.
277
is more visible in the conservation of tin foil, the top layer of University, Budapest, 2008, and Firea C., Arta polipticelor medievale din
the relief sheet responsible for the general / base colour of the Transilvania (1450-150), unpublished PhD Thesis, Babeș-Bolyai University, Cluj-
Napoca, 2010.
garment. Tin foil is preserved in a fragmentary state, leaving a 3
For an in depth description of the technique see I. Geelen & D. Steyaert, Imitation
yellowish underlayer visible. The oxidation of the tin leaf have and Illusion. Applied brocade in the Art of the Low Countries in the Fifteenth and
turned the original silver appearance into a dark greyish tone Sixteenth Centuries, Scientia Artis 6, IRPA, Brussels, 2011.
which, in combination with the underlayer, looks brown. There
4
C. SERENDAN, J. HRADILOVA, D. HRADIL, 2010, The Imitation of Brocade Fabrics
in Late Medieval Altarpieces from Transylvania, Acta Artis Academica 2010,
are only few garments which retain the original polychromy of Proceedings of the 3rd Interdisciplinary Conference of ALMA, ed. Tiskarna Polygraf,
these textiles. Others have lost their colours, surviving as fade Praha, pp. 43-61.
memories of what they would have looked like in the small 5
The inscription on the upper part of the altarpiece notes that it was transferred
pigment fragments found here and there on the relief (fig. 14,15). and renewed in 1720.
6
Richter&Richter , pp.105-113
In the attempt to recover the original look, heavy retouchings are
reconstructing some of the polychromies of the simpler brocades
(style a) in a rather crude or confused manner (fig. 16, 17).
While today the guiding principle in the conservation
interventions of many of these altarpieces is that of a minimal
intervention, the scars of the former interventions may not always
be removed. This example is intended to raise awareness on the
importance of an in-depth investigation and understanding of
the painting technique before any conservation treatment takes
place. The development of new technologies and methods for the
investigation and diagnosis of artworks should allow conservators
to gain more knowledge on an artwork than 50 years ago.
Virtual reconstructions can offer a viable alternative to heavy
reconstructions, and represent a step forward in preserving the
authenticity of the artwork.
NOTES
1
C. Serendan, The Techniques of gilding and gilt decoration in the Medieval panel
painting from Transylvania, unpublished PhD thesis, National university of Arts
Bucharest, 2010.
2
Among the most recent art historical studies on the altarpieces see Emese
Sarkadi, Produced for Transylvania – Local Workshops and Foreign Connections.
Studies of Late Medieval Altarpieces in Transylvania, PhD thesis, Central European
 INTERVIEW WITH ARCHITECT ȘERBAN STURDZA *
278
1. In contemporary Romania, the relationship between
patrimony and new investments is often perceived as a space
dispute, a conflict between memory and development. Your
position expressed in previous interviews, is that memory is
being disfavoured and that we should aim for balance and
continuity between past and present. Do you think that this
form of rejection of the past and, implicitly, of what is old, is
caused by a lack of cultural maturity or does it stem from other
roots?
In the common, everyday reality, there are some aspects that you
can notice if you have lived in Romania for a longer period, but
perhaps even more so if you leave your familiar land of birth and
travel extensively and you make comparisons with other unknown
faraway places. In this regard I would make a few simple remarks:
one is that improvising is a constant and I make this statement
with a view to what happens in daily life and, at the same time,
to what happens when you take major decisions. Improvising is
a constant, even when you have to make important decisions,
because the perception of time is very acute. The Romanians are
in a hurry - it is a bit like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.
If they have a lot of time on their hands they do other things -
namely, the things that are terribly pressing and which they were
supposed to have already done, and in the end, that thing for
which they initially had a lot of time is due already and is done
when it is too late. They are so pressed for time that they have to
take hasty decisions. And then they are constantly improvising.
Decisions are not placed in a fair balance with regard to their
importance they have within a certain process. Whether you’re
going to section a city to make an access road or develop a
motorway in an assigned area, or make a dress, things are pretty
much the same, namely, the final conjuncture and the most
important event is the last one to come, even if it is not the one
that draws the conclusion or gives the trajectory according to the
scope of the gesture. The frame of reference is very important,
very pressing, and then the improvising effort is prolific. Hence
many consequences that affect the act of construction and the
act of design. I would say that if you have to design something in
two years, you will feel that you have a great deal of time at your
disposal and that you can do other things meanwhile, and in the
last three months remaining you will do the thing for which you
originally had two years. And then you will act as such.
Perhaps everything seems subjective, but I should suggest a
cross-section through an urban area, anywhere in the country,
to compare how much of the terrain is represented by the
superstructure and how much in contrast is the infrastructure.
And I will discover that the infrastructure that is not in full
view is extraordinarily small compared to the superstructure.
Usually foundations in Romania are shallow, the cellars and
the basements as a rule are small, everything that is built
underground because hidden is done superficially, in view of what
will be visible above and consequently considered of interest.
Improvising shows here because, pressed for time to carry out
what is visible and what will be judged/commented upon, will
make the infrastructure small, time efficient and economical with
total disregard to potentially hazardous outcomes.
In my opinion that is quite interesting. If one makes a cross
section through any given Romanian city - the region matters
only to a small degree - geology or seismology do not matter
either, although they do leave their mark and makes a comparison
between the former and a city from another country, be it
Western or not, one cannot help but notice the differences. From
this point there will be several consequences and even a certain
living pattern will emerge.
There’s an approach towards architecture that values a lot more
the expression rather than the underpinning substance. And
that is why there is an effort that the beneficiary makes to adapt
quickly - see the peaks of the Art Deco and modernist architecture
between the wars, how rapidly, how contemporary they were
to European architecture, and yet how little substance you find
at times behind them. The easiest example could be the shape
of the facade that hides the roof, mimicking the terrace whereas
at the back, there is actually the typical nineteenth-century tin
roof that remains safe because the craftsman knows how to
execute it and disregards the terrace-roof principle launched
by Le Corbusier. All that counts is the imitation - that the copy
resembles the original model. This is another instance of
improvising devoid of any substance.
Now I will insist upon this aspect of old vs. new because novelty
does matter. In Romania, novelty is something extremely
important, there is an utmost snobbery, with good parts and bad
parts, but it is clear that novelty counts. So much so that between
the wars and also nowadays, a visitor to Romania is surprised at
how good and luxurious the cars are, but how bad the roads are,
how beautiful and well-dressed the women are, but how poor
their livelihood is. There are people who are absolutely glamorous
on the street but if you visit their home you will be amazed to see
the opposite - that they have a small room with just a few things
and that’s all - they live in stark poverty in order to be able to
show off. So the person seizes the chance, the ripe moment and
resorts to improvising.
If I am to extrapolate these things to an academic environment,
I could say that there is a tremendous rift between learning
with gusto what is new in the architecture design workshop and
putting aside the old only to be found as a subject named History
of Architecture in the curriculum of academical studies. Eventually
a fault is born with its rather bad aspects because it generates
On the previous page:
1. Bucharest, Mincu house
(photo credit: Andrei Margulescu).
On the current page:
2, 3. Bucharest, Mincu house
(photo credit: Andrei Margulescu).
4. Botosani, Conacul Miclescu –
Calinesti (photo credit: Arpad Zachi).
279
a unilateral training. But it is exactly the same thing - haste and
improvising: we have to learn quickly how to make a curtain wall
without knowing its functions. But the expression has a seducing
power whereas the consequences remain to be seen. I could
justify my opinion by relying on some design businesses that are
doing audit work on buildings that broke inadmissibly soon after
the curtain wall fronts had been introduced in the 90s, either due
to a fault of the developer, or of the architect’s, or both, because
they conceived and put in place inadequate systems that broke
much faster, and then the audit companies earned more than the
architecture companies by exploiting the mistakes of the latter.
This is mainly due to improvising and when I refer to the old vs.
new issue it’s like being touched by this magic improvisation
wand. I would say that “old” is improvised and invented too,
because you as an architect have actually become used to and
have been educated in this way.
Truth, authenticity, respect that demand that restoration work be
based on documentary sources or the use of a certain thinking
pattern, a certain type of material, a certain type of tool or a
certain type of individual similar to the one who produced the
original for instance or, in the end the piece you are restoring,
are ignored. The problem is to do something that looks old, to
imitate old, to be innovative in imitating old. This is certainly a
matter that has a superficial aspect devoid of any substance that
neutralizes the entire process. After all, invention, the amplitude
of the gestures meant for restoration ends up by becoming
ridiculous. There are various degrees, but only one word for the
intervention that can often be correct and more often than not
very incorrect, but in Romania it is still called restoration, it is
not called conservation, nor rehabilitation, neither adaptation
nor temporary intervention, let’s say, and does not have any
other nuance, it’s called restoration and then things become
 5. Botosani, Conacul Miclescu –
Calinesti (photo credit: Arpad Zachi).
280
questionable. This is a perception I have because I myself am
affected, I’m part of this society and I’m touched by the same
illness, only that I’m trying to detach myself from time to time and
sometimes self discipline in order to be able to correct certain
things. There is very little rigour and responsibility. I mean the
whole process of erecting a building – architect, authorities,
beneficiary and consumer society.
2. What do you think are the causes of this superficiality and of
this tendency to erroneously estimate time that lead to a never-
ending chase? Is it historical causes that push us to improvising
and precariousness?
Maybe there is an explanation, I do not know if it’s the only
one, but I could say a few things about it. There is an old custom
in Moldova for instance, attributable to the Tatar invasions:
they build a house with no cellar, the cellar is built next to the
house, concealed, serving as a storage as well as a hiding place.
Inside were hidden the goods or the elders who could not run
in the event of an attack. After retreat, they would return to the
destroyed house and naturally, they would restore it. So it’s an
adaptation for survival from one season to another and from
generation to generation: after the destruction you are bound
to accept, because that’s the way life is or these are the times
you live in, you have to rebuild the house in a short time, within
a season, in order to resume work in the fields, which is what
puts food on the table. That is how it was in Moldova, but things
happened in a similar way with the Banat region colonization
around 1750. The first colonist groups arrived in spring and by
late autumn they had to build shelters, so they were forced to
build quickly. However, being accustomed to this situation, they
transferred their technologies and lifestyle from somewhere in
the Western part of Europe and made their houses infinitely more
solid than necessary. There are houses of rammed earth built
around 1750, which, even suffering various earthquakes, were
well maintained and endured until the exodus of the Germans in
the ‘60s,’ 70s, 80s. Subsequently, the area was recolonized mainly
with Moldavian population, which had another attitude towards
using and maintaining the house so, the houses degraded in 15-20
years more than in the previous century. I do not think one model
is better than the other. I think that the customs and how you
look at habitation are defining. I think it’s about what you have in
yourself, what you have inherited, what you pass on; it’s a natural
thing of never-ending adjustment and it should not be lost.
Returning to restoration, I have to say that education is
extraordinarily important, and that if you have been used to
living like the majority of the population in a city since your
childhood, in blocks of flats built in a rush, and to some extent
improvised, even if some neighborhoods are better than others,
they are however, below the level at which the idea of living in
a block of flats was conceived after the Second World War. We
are talking about a global phenomenon of migration from the
rural to the urban area in a very brutal way within the space of
two generations and which fractured the idea of transmitting the
links with old at the same time. The phenomenon was perceived
simplistically: old means something bad, sordid, of poor quality.
So when one gets admitted to college without having had the
opportunity to be educated in school, at least a bit, in the history
of architecture or art history, and you are confronted face-on with
a discussion about old vs. new, and you also have some teachers
who are biased and are very strongly influenced by post-war
architecture or modern architecture since WWI (again, a great
catastrophe from the point of view of what the built environment
is and rushed rapid restoration), then all the landmarks of the
past are considered some old stuff. That’s what is surprising in
6. Bucharest, building in 77, Romulus
str.
281
Bucharest, where the oldest house (and there are only two or
three) dates back to the 18th century, not from the 13th like
in other European cities. So, history is quickly patched up then
forgotten and then reinvented if case may be.
Well, a man who lives through previous generations in this
environment, how can he organize his own restoration project,
how much time does he give it, how important does he think
it is, and how important is it for those who use it, i.e. the
beneficiaries? They will often accept the image I was talking
about, but they will not accept the effort needed to make that
image very convincing and based on sources, they will readily
accept an improvisation, an essay about how the house used
to be. My belief is that presently in Romania there are but very
few examples of restoration of a house the way it was when
erected not to mention the several intermediary stages and the
countless variations and metamorphoses it has suffered over
time. There are interpretations, more or less successful, often
with an emphasized romantic character, ranging from expertise to
kitsch. I would say, to support my point of view once more, that
archeology also suffers from this ailment. If you came upon, as it
actually happened, some Hun tombs in Transylvania, you had to
hide them and discover the Dacian tomb first, and you weren’t
supposed to say certain things that could be embarrassing from
a political point of view. This thing is anecdotal but real. A habit is
formed through repetition and then it is clear that our profession
suffers. I would say that “restoration” is the worst word you can
use in Romania, it would be better to say rehabilitation - you
could sometimes use it; if you also have a historical study and
are quite careful, conservation would be another option, but the
term of restoration is perhaps the most alien, the most difficult
to associate with the state of facts because in fact people do not
accept a restoration, they have no time and no money to pay for
 7, 8. Bucharest, building in 33, Dioni-
sie Lupu str. (photo credit: Alexandra
Mihailciuc).
282
the time spent on restoration by a team of experts unless we are
talking about something exceptional.
Besides, my college fellow Dan Marin has brought into discussion
the fact that you can search, and you will not find the obligation
to perform a historical study anywhere in the Romanian
legislation, or any rules and regulations. We are performing
historical studies on projects because the Committee of
Monuments makes a request in this sense or because some have
become accustomed, but they are not required by law. If you do
not want to do a historical study and then sue the other party for
requiring from you to do a historical study, you will win. That’s a
really interesting thing which says a lot. So we refer again to the
idea of convention, conventional, perfunctory. Those who restore
do it out of pleasure, but the government does not need this
undertaking in most of the cases. From this point of view, you find
yourself in a danger zone, I think. If the historic monument is said
to be a national asset and in danger unless protected then this is a
statement to which I adhere, and it is a matter of national security
to preserve monuments and our heritage, but the way things are
done has nothing to do with the previous statement proclaimed
even by the highest legislative body of our country.
If we are to compare the intention of restoring here to that in
Norway or in England we will most certainly notice some major
differences. Right under our eyes a very different rewriting /
interpretation of history is in full process. Right here, right now,
out of ignorance and under the authority of the new ideology we
are rewriting history expeditiously and obviously we are leaving
unequivocal marks on the architectural objects that we are
purportedly restoring.
3. If we are talking about the correct terminology and the
rewriting of history, how do you find the motto of the National
Restorers Union: “We set in stone the history of architecture”? It
reminds me of Ana in the myth of Master Manole.
It is exactly so - we set history in stone, just as we set in stone
new dictators after we’ve killed the predecessors. We do
the same with our heritage - first we destroy it and then we
eventually rehabilitate it as we did with the Cotroceni Church.
We commemorate those we have killed but not as the state of
facts requires but as the present ideologist and the financial gain
dictate.
4. There is a lot of debate, especially in Italy, about the approach
to conservation and restoration as gestures of extreme finesse,
rendering the ego of the one who intervenes on the historical
monument as inconspicuously as possible, even tending to
anonymity. How do you comment upon the fact that even in
this case, the most appreciated projects belong to those who
dare to add with due regard, the stamp of their own personality
and the mark of their time, to the series of historical stages of
the monument? And what do you think about the Romanian
equivalent?
I do not see any contradiction in that, because everything starts
from context and know-how. There is an average set of practices
from which we judge the exceptions, so this average norm is an
average you need to provide, you should have enough culture to
belong to this midpoint (it does not mean mediocre) and have
common sense, and from here on if you discover that element
that can once again become a point of reference in history,
namely the exception, all the better. So I would let Carlo Scarpa
do as he did, because he proved to be within average parameters
in the first place, and his inner content is present there and then
goes beyond that level – in other words he complies with a quality
standard to which he adds a plus. But if you are incompetent in
terms of average margin and add the exception, then the issue
is failed, and failure often happens to us. Therefore, there is an
obvious lack of culture of the one who makes the exception, and
then everything becomes a caricature and truth is distorted to the
highest degree. When it comes to cheating and blundering, the
most perceptible errors are in the field of patrimony and not in
the other field of designing new buildings because in the former
field the lie can be more blatant and, sadly enough, in most of the
cases it is a blatant lie.
5. The quality of the conservation or restoration intervention
is very dependent on the professional, human and cultural
profile of the specialist who sets the approach to the project,
and because of this, the Romanian heritage suffers greatly.
Do you think that these deficiencies can be compensated for
by methodological norms that would ensure that qualitative
average you were talking about?
I believe so, but there must be a strong motivation for it, a
strategy motivation, it is a matter that is strictly of national
interest and we are not talking here of terms like nation and
nationalism, I mean national interest as a mark of respect for an
infinite group of people who no longer exist, but who made you
exist. In the end, if you ask me what’s best, should the Ministry
of Culture and Heritage exist, should it not exist, even though it
is currently inefficient, I would say it is better to exist and I think
it is better to set a legislation in a clever way and clever does
not mean precision or coercion, it means accurate and simple
at the same time. Why am I saying this? - because a compelled
individual will not do anything without being convinced. If a
person is first convinced and then compelled, that person will
do a good job. In order to be convinced, you must first of all
explain what it is about. In our opinion, the explanation is usually
9. Bucharest, public space near the
Anglican church.
10. The restoration of the Petre P.
Carp conac in Țibănești (photo credit:
Alexandra Mihailciuc, 2017).
283
delivered badly and belatedly. Perhaps it falls under the chapter
„opportunity for emergence of a new law”. But some lack 15-20-
40 years of previous education, starting at school and at home.
And then the law becomes coercive and you are in no mood to
accept it. Secondly, the situation must be balanced, meaning
that if this story is not beneficial to all - not just to the Romanian
state, then it will not be applied. It has to be advantageous for the
beneficiary, for the owner, for the one who eventually maintains
the monument. So, the legislation must be different to what it
is like now. Not more permissive, not more precise, not with
harsher or easier penalties; it must be different, it must be viewed
differently not in terms of enemy to the citizens or to the owners
of historical monuments. There’s another thing that I believe to be
true. Say, drafting the law costs 100 lei, you hire people, you draft
the law, you promulgate it. If you had 100 lei for the law, perhaps
you should have 100 times more for the implementation, but the
implementation and upholding of the law are not provided for in
the budget. And then the law exists, it is promulgated, but in fact
it is hard to check whether it is applied, there is no knowledge
whether the population has acknowledged it and there is no feed-
back for its improvement. This is another instance of improvising.
6. I believe that in order to be successfully applied, a law must
anticipate and block as many of the possible mechanisms that
may lead to circumventing it. What would you add to get a
functional heritage protection system?
Let’s say the Heritage Law or the Heritage Code, as it is currently
being developed triggers some questions - for whom do I draft
it?, Is it meant for this generation?, Is it still valid for the next
generation? Then let us have a few classes on this issue in the
school curriculum, and from here on, let’s see how we raise a
law-abiding population. I would also train the police force to be
 On the current page:
11. The restoration of the Petre P.
Carp conac in Țibănești (photo credit:
Mihai Bodea, 2017).
On the next page:
12. The restoration of the Petre P.
Carp conac in Țibănești (photo credit:
Mihai Bodea, 2017).
284
balanced and educated, and moreover, notifications may become
occasions for some stimulating debates. I’m joking now, but this
could be so if we were not so rushed, if we did not have to do
one hundred pages of documentations per day in Bucharest,
going crazy that you cannot finish them on time, instead of doing
only five, talk and have some students invited to show them
how this is done, or have volunteers who work in their spare
time supporting the approval process for the documentation
concerning a monuments registry or intervention projects that
may be necessary. So the law itself is not enough, no matter how
perfect it is, and it denotes a certain superficiality rather than a
functional apparatus. You can have all the laws in the world and
you cannot rein in a population. That’s what’s happening with
architectural monuments, too. The concept of sustainability has
worn out before it was even understood. The heritage policy has
become a sham. Of course, there are exceptions.
7. The general public and the politicians who do not care about
heritage are in a vicious circle: the majority is unaware of the
value and the importance of our cultural heritage, so they do not
vote for politicians who have on their agenda the monument
protection. Once part of the local or central government, they
do not promote patrimonial policies, nor do they educate the
public in this respect, and the history repeats itself. I think that
part of the responsibility for breaking this vicious circle belongs
to us, the architects and the heritage specialists, because we
have the arguments. However, the lack of internal cohesion and
guild solidarity (like the doctors or lawyers have for example)
creates for us, the architects, the disservice of an incoherent
public image unfortunately, and therefore disqualifies us as
serious dialogue partners with the administration and with the
public. Do you see a way out of this predicament?
I would say that of the three liberal professions - doctors, lawyers
and architects, you go to the first two when you are in need, so
the medical practitioner or the lawyer will be more respected
than the third liberal profession. You go to the architect less
because you need to, you sometimes even like to go to the
architect. And trying to enhance the gratification, you impose
certain things, which you cannot afford to do with a doctor or a
lawyer, but with an architect the client has opinions, and because
of this the profession has some boundaries difficult to define. A
second issue is that the craft is extremely complex and that, in
the end, architecture is not only performed by the architect, it is
a context that creates and generates many actors and an object
that almost no one assumes, and from this point of view, things
are different again.
On the issue of guild solidarity and how its members behave,
I cannot figure out how the others are like, I think there are all
sorts of conflicts everywhere. I think there are no values, when it
comes to restoration and old buildings, I think we lack opinions
and dialogue. We are inexperienced in debates and conversation.
We lack a basic culture of the built environment. Graduation
works that some students want to pursue in order to valorize a
building will be rejected until new larger buildings are displayed
next to the building he is willing to restore, covering a larger area
- so even starting from this point in time we have a stigma on
the idea of monument and heritage. I believe that the world of
architects itself is still confused at present, I would not accuse it of
anything more than this. Are they settled upon what value is? Are
they not? There are people who prefer to see value in Florence
rather than in Sibiu, or they perceive it’s good over there, while
here it can be as it may, so they are not convinced that it is worth
doing things properly here.
While trying to repair some wooden churches, let’s say, less
important country churches, the authorities told us (this is my
personal experience), “Sir, we, the Ministry of Culture, are not
interested, we have enough wooden churches, it is of no interest
to us unless it is a stone church.” So this very issue is looked at
in an over-simplistic way: if the church is made of wood and
the wood rots and there are plenty of those churches, it does
not matter; we have to fix another, we spend the money on
something else. It is an issue that could be real, correct and
normal if we had a judicious listing of our patrimony, but no one
in this country will be able to say how many wooden churches
there are now. No one can even say how many synagogues
exist, although there are significantly fewer. When the Jewish
community inquired upon the number of synagogues in Romania
and wanted to know which ones were listed as monuments, the
Ministry of Culture did not know the answer. And what does this
issue denote? It denotes that superficiality and disinterest are
larger than assertion - which brings to my mind what you were
saying about the profession and the relationship between people.
This shows that the promotion system in the field is absolutely
flawed. First of all, the number of architects who have access to
restoration works is very small and it is artificially kept very small,
so that the markets are controlled by those who already have
headway. So that’s obvious; I could even say that it damages our
heritage. The lack of architects dealing with heritage is one of
the reasons why our patrimony is deteriorating, and the fact that
you do not allow and open the gates, preparing beforehand the
architects for being able to work on objects and buildings that are
listed, is a fault that belongs to the profession and is a huge fault
for that matter.
This is how volunteering was born in this field, mostly due to
frustration. On the one hand, for the students it was out of
curiosity, but on the other hand it was the need to do something
when you are not allowed to, and offer to do it for free, and
285
this happens in a country that needs labour force. And skill
should be encouraged when in fact it is not encouraged. It is
very difficult to convince me that things are fine, that is, I am
completely against the policy of the Ministry of Culture and the
associations that are in this field, because all I know of suffer
from selfishness and shallowness at the same time. I would say
that the NGOs that have begun to appear are perhaps the only
positive element or that lends a bit of optimism to this picture,
even though I have often been asked: “Are you an architect or
are you an NGO activist?” which left me agape. It means that
anyone who is interested, but is part of an NGO, is a person
who does not deserve and has no right, and must be excluded
from an absolutely necessary activity, which in the end is a very
real form of patriotism and which under no circumstances are
you entitled to say that it wrong to encourage. It goes without
saying that the whole thing is being supervised, that there are
certain skills needed, and so on. But to eliminate people who
are willing to do something, because they have no right, this is in
complete contradiction with the idea of heritage, it is completely
far-fetched. In the end, we are talking about amateurism and
incompetence.
There are people who have learned along the way, have trained
in the country through various experiences, or people who have
been educated or trained in other countries, but I do not see
them being put to use. Why? Unfortunately, they have no access,
although they are capable people and have had the chance to
study more than our own generation who was not allowed to
leave the country. So, they should be working hard but they have
no permission because of some stupid laws, which has a direct
effect on those things that go wrong. I think what’s going on is
very serious and on the other hand I believe no one is taking
notice. Little by little everything will just fade out and disappear,
 it will not be known anymore and that will be the end. Everything
that is material will become falsified and insignificant, and what is
immaterial is governed by other laws anyway.
There is another thing I would like to add, just to give you an
example of learning methods and the results thereof. I was in one
of Horia Creangaʼs houses, actually the second house he built in
Bucharest with his brother. Now it’s been ranked, before it wasn’t
so I was able to enter the apartment with my students in order
to make some experiments related to their perception of space,
related to the functionality of an interwar house to see why things
are the way they are inside such a flat. There were about 15 fifth
year students, most of them outraged at the functionality of the
286 apartment.
‟Why, said they, is there a secondary staircase needed, why are
domestics’ quarters next to the kitchen?”
And then my question was:
‟Have you ever been inside an interwar house?”
They said:
‟No, it’s my first time ever.”
So... in the 5th year! The second important thing:
‟Where do you live?”
‟I live in this neighbourhood, in a block of flats.”
‟Alright, have you studied the partitions of houses designed by
interwar modern architects?”
‟Yes, I have / I know this house and that house.”
‟Have you seen the flows and the functionality part?”
‟No. I mean, I have seen them, but I cannot remember.”
‟Ok but, look, there’s a logic here. There’s the working class, the
affluent bourgeoisie, there is a dirty circuit and a clean one, there
are all sorts of stuff, that’s why it is like this”. He says:
‟Well sir, I didn’t take this into consideration, I didn’t have time to
visit old buildings, I live in a block of flats...”
When you do not understand such things in your 5th year of study
it’s worrisome. What will happen? He’s going to be awarded a
diploma, maybe he will work on a restoration project, but this
person will not have his own judgment criteria, the necessary
elements to do a good job in the end. He might do a good job, but
one cannot be sure.
8. In the last hundred years the Romanian society has gone
through and is still going through major changes, with
widespread mass migratory waves: from the countryside to the
cities, from one region to another, the Transylvanian Saxons
to Germany, our contemporaries abroad, looking for a job and
a better life. In this context with people leaving their places
of origin, it is only natural that their affective connection with
historical buildings will suffer, or even dissolve, because the built
heritage is linked to the territory. The built heritage conservation
and restoration make sense only if it is made for the people,
but they no longer care. Given this situation shouldn’t we first
consider restoring this emotional bond, for which we need a
multidisciplinary approach, including sociologists and cultural
anthropologists?
I believe that using old homes, living in them is a very important
thing, you learn better than by reading about them. From this
point of view, I think the English are the most evolved. In their
introductory courses, you perform fieldwork and you do the
courses pragmatically, namely, you live in the habitation you
are studying and then you come to understand what each room
serves for, and the building in its entirety, that the ambience is not
just ornamentation but cultural rationale and subtlety. Secondly,
personal bias is very important indeed. So, from this point of view,
if one takes into consideration the films that have been made
about Tudor Vladimirescu, or whatever movies have been made
here, one will notice that aside from the funny parts, there is so
much politics and so much ideological input that can be detected
in the choice of the architectural setting that one cannot help but
notice the obnoxious aspects that the propaganda and the politics
insert in the cultural act.
From this perspective, the history written by Djuvara after the
‘90s, the history recounted to the young1 , is a more credible one,
an easily readable and easily understandable history. Many adults
have resorted to this cute history book which puts things in order,
has pathos, has logic and is much more vivid than any textbook
we have ever studied before. It puts things under a different
light, even if it is subjective, but it has value, and that’s why it is
remembered. Things written badly and quite unrealistically have
a negative influence. Why do you think Boia2 sells so well and is
read so fast and easily? You may or may not agree with Lucian
Boia, but in any case it is worth reading.
Architectural awareness has a more noticeable presence in the
discourse of the above-mentioned historians in comparison with
the communist historiographic simplification which unfortunately
still influences our daily life and most of our professional
decisions.
If we are talking about, say, Queen Maria’s castle in Balchik and
about a historian who writes a book on this subject namely Lucia
Boia, is there any architecture book or another kind of book
that is more interesting than this? There isn’t. Due to the fact
that generally, architecture is separated from ordinary life, the
architect is a character that is not part of everyday life, he feels
superior, he is taught in the faculty to consider himself a different
species. This is wrong because he/she can become a different
species only after assimilating the understanding of the species
he/she belongs to.
But if he poses as a demiurge while he is still a freshman and
looks down on his own beneficiaries, then you cannot have high
expectations from him. And when we talk about rehabilitation,
then history, anthropology, sociology and the others are parts
of the project, so first you have to be very perceptive to these
aspects, and then, if you can add something as an architect, go
ahead because that’s your job, but you cannot dismiss these
aspects.
While this is almost completely missing in the Romanian school.
Despising one’s fellow citizens is a mistake the whole society
makes. After all, let’s see for whom we rehabilitate, do we do
it for ourselves or for others? The answer should be ʻfor both
partiesʼ. That is why a relationship with a beneficiary is delicate
and multifaceted at the same time for which you have to work
hard, so that you can help him/her understand why you do it,
where the money goes, how important it is, how he will benefit
from it, and so on. But usually this is not brought into discussion.
The discussion is about the contract, and you say, “that’s how it is
done,” and he/she says “OK,” but in fact he/she will not make use
of the house the way it should be. The end result is not the object
that you have made as an architect, but the person taken together
with the object as a whole.
9. Growing up in a city like Bucharest, which has a lot of
disharmonic buildings and disarticulated spaces, a certain
perception of what the city means is coming into being, you
get to internalize urban chaos and consider it not only natural
but also a source of cultural identity. What chances do people
trained in urban dissonance have to create something other
than even more chaos?
I am not sure if we can, and if we do I think it won’t be through
architecture, but maybe through philosophy and morality.
Probably through fields of interest that are broader than
architecture, connected to a more balanced ideology. I do not
think there are other ways since architecture is a profoundly
political human act and a very fact-based one. At the same time,
it is a mirror-act. They say architects’ organisations or architects
in general are apolitical, which is perfectly true up to a closer
scrutiny. Is that so? In architecture every gesture has a very
important political connotation, intolerance ultimately generates
a certain type of reaction and consequences in the field of
rehabilitation and restoration. The architect is the one to choose
discerningly, decide what needs to be preserved and what not,
set a scale of values, promote ideas that are or are not his own,
or rather, that are in line with his own ideology or not. It’s not
something that is always performed constantly and well. The
vicious circle might be interrupted depending on the way society
and the flows of thought move.
After all, this topic on the relationship between old and new is
very interesting. Everything surrounding us is full of substance
and we had better be tolerant with concepts. When you work on
a rehabilitation project, you are basically like an executioner, you
are an individual who decides who is left with a particular piece,
and the criteria may belong to you or to the establishment that 287
pays you. There may be so many other things in the middle, such
as a special intimacy between you and the object of discussion, a
dialogue in which you discover that it asks you to let it be, to be
preserved. The undertaking can become highly intimate. Perhaps
this is salutary. In fact dealing with an old house that you have to
renew is a great opportunity for reflection compared to having
a completely free site that you have to renew with a house. It is
so much better to start from something than start from nothing.
At first glance it seems easier, at second glance it’s harder, but I
think that one, as an architect, educates oneself better, and those
who live in old buildings have a much richer life by having the
chance to get in touch with traces and fragments from bygone
worlds. That is why this field gives the architect the chance to
continuously check his inner self and show respect for others.
I believe that urban dissonance is not something settled and I am
optimistic about Bucharest.
Thank you!
* Author’s note: The questions contained in the interview were
conducted in 2019 at the studio of the architect Șerban Sturdza
by Cătălina Bulborea, that I thank very much for the precious
collaboration.
NOTES
1
Neagu Djuvara, O scurtă istorie a românilor povestită celor tineri, Humanitas
Publishing House, Bucharest, 1999.
2
Lucian Boia, contemporary Romanian historian, author of numerous and
much debated books in the field of ideas and imaginary history, defining new
perspectives for Romanian historiography.
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