writing
and original thinking
do we really want bricks?
a critique of the UK house building strategy
The economy for housing in the UK is dominated by small number of large house builders. The guys like Persimmon, Barratt, Taylor Wimpey, etc etc. You know, the ones who build little red boxes very close to each other on green belt land and say it’s all in the name of progress because you can get a 5% mortgage on it.
We’re all well aware of how bad these homes are, nobody’s whizzing past these construction sites in their car, exclaiming “oh wow” and pulling into the next layby to book a viewing of the show home. Instead, we’re all whizzing past in our cars going “oh wow” in a dazed tone of disbelief at the scale of the operation underway to build more miserable homes that we’re just glad are being built somewhere that isn’t the field next to our own home.
But we need homes, that’s a given apparently, so someone has to build them, and handily that falls to those who own big chunks of land on which to build those homes, and in the UK, that tends to be the big house builders. Onto this land, you cram as many homes as you can without the local planners reporting you to the Geneva convention, minimising your ‘affordable housing’ contribution to zero if the location is sufficiently upmarket that it’s worth paying the subsidy fee, then market these little houses using the one property on the whole site constructed properly and generally ‘make bank’ to put it in simple terms.
So now that we’re in possession of all the ingredients to solve the housing problem, what’s the recipe to go ahead and deliver homes for this market where demand outstrips supply?
When you’re trying to produce something in large quantities, engineering terms start to gain relevance and meaning to your endeavour, phrases such as ‘production line’, ‘manufacture’, ‘efficiency’, ‘reliability’, perhaps even ‘quality’.
All very boring words, unfortunately, but nevertheless, very useful. Looking back at history there are quite a few examples where scaling production was only achievable because of a change in production strategy. Henry Ford, is widely credited with inventing the production line as a means to produce more Model-T fords, the best-selling car at the start of the 20th century. Quite a rational idea really, just break your manufacture process into nice easy to manage chunks, setup optimised work areas for each chunk of the process, and then move the product (not the workers) from one work stage to the next sequentially, until a complete car rolls off the production line at the end.
In contrast to reality, Henry ford did not think as his sales starting to sky rocket, “I know, I’ll just get a few more lads in, and carry on doing things the same way as we’ve been doing up until now”. But this seems to be the strategy employed by the building industry. In the words of Einstein “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.”
More employees doesn’t mean more efficiency or higher production. There are only so many people who can work on the same object at the same time without getting in the way of one another. And good luck finding more brickies or plumbers. As the phrase goes, too many cooks spoil the broth, but perhaps that’s meant more from a managerial point of view. Anyway, Henry ford saw the opportunity of increased productivity lay in the processes he was employing, not the number of employees, and that by optimising these he could make more cars, for less money. Simple really. An idea that has been in use now for 100 years, and has continued to be carefully tweaked and improved by car manufacturers all around the world, through a desire to achieve continuous improvement, or ‘Kaizen’ in Japanese (now you understand why Japanese cars are so well built). This continuous improvement either comes in the form of benefit to the end user, say an extra mile per gallon thanks to a design tweak which made the car more aerodynamic, or to the manufacturer as they realised 5 screws to secure the cupholder was actually overkill, and 3 was plenty. Those 2 screws saved per car add up, and increase company profits.
So going back to the UK and it’s need for houses, you might be able to sense where this is going. Why is it that the big house builders insist on building in a fashion that can only be described as outdated, inefficient and stupid. You may think stupid is a bit strong, but when you’ve had 100 years to look around and see what everyone else is up to, and failed to glean any answers from looking at their homework then you can only conclude that they are stupid.
Making homes in a factory where you can put things together with great reliability and speed, away from the variable and often inclement British weather which so often puts the brakes on construction is a no brainer. Where materials are measured accurately and waste minimised (and recycled), helping to reduce costs and increase price ertainty. All this sounds good? Especially if your main concern was turning a profit, and the best profit possible at that, a factory would make perfect sense.
No unknowns, just a completely controllable environment to make buildings inside, and then simply transport them to your building site, and job done. So why on earth are the house builders of the UK doing such an excellent job of ignoring the benefits of offsite manufacture (previously known as pre-fabrication, but since the bad reputation associated to the 1950’s it’s rebranded), and persisting in building in such a Dickensian manner as though building a house ‘traditionally’ is some dying art that must be kept alive.
Strangely, some small amounts of ‘offsite manufacture’ have found their way into large scale house building, but only in the most pointless way; chimney stacks. Yes, although no new build homes have open fires, they do have chimney stacks. But since it’s a bit of a hassle to build those chimney stacks using bricks by a man on some scaffolding, I’m sure henry ford would agree at this point, the chimney stacks you see on new build homes are in fact made from GRP. That’s Glass-fiber reinforced plastic, like you would see used to make life size dinosaurs at a theme park.
So it seems the housebuilders kind of get it, where a part is difficult to make, make it offsite, and install it with a crane, that makes more sense, as it is cheaper and quicker. But I think, that’s where the rational thinking ends, because I think most people might question the inclusion of the entirely superfluous chimney stack in the first place.
If you wanted to build homes in a ‘stack em high, sell em cheap’ fashion, and let’s assume the big house builders do, then wouldn’t you start doing away with the frilly bits which are otherwise just cutting into your margin. Companies have been doing this for years, BMW famously didn’t include a stereo in its cars, or an offside mirror, both being optional extras should you be so decadently inclined to specify them.
So, continuing with this train of rational thought, it raises rather a lot more questions about the design of the houses we’re building in the UK.
For example, why include the little brick detailing under the gables, surely that adds some cost. OK great, another saving made, but then, why build in bricks at all? That’s expensive isn’t it? Bricks are about 70p each, and a brick layer gets paid 40p to lay each one, multiply that by the average number of bricks (5200) and that soon adds up to nearly £6000.
That’s before you note we have a huge brick shortage at the moment, with all the big house builders fighting for the available bricks coming in from the continent (yes, we have to import most of those bricks we use to make our ‘english’ looking houses, oh the irony).
Surely at this point you start to think the negatives of bricks outweighs it’s benefits, and to replace it with something else altogether might just be a lot easier for everyone, or at least stop you being reliant on a material in short supply which is imported and which has the ability to stop you finishing your houses. Well, lets assume the builders aren’t entirely stupid, and have considered this option, so why haven’t they done away with the bricks? In most cases the exterior leaf of bricks isn’t structural anyway, so replacing it with something else is easily done; timber cladding for example. Well, the reason as far as I am aware is this, “people expect a brick house”.
A turn of phrase which reminds me of the campaigns by tobacco and oil companies to frame the user as the liable for the impacts of the product. Either way, it’s nothing to do with the house builders, they’re just providing what the public wants. Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!
Except is it what the public really wants? I mean, they want a home, ideally put together half competently, and to be able to afford it. I think that’s probably the extent of the publics expectations. And of those points, the house builders are delivering on 0 out of 3.
There still aren’t enough homes being built (funny that), they’re not well built (have you seen the complaints against Persimmon for snagging problems), and they’re not affordable (if they were we wouldn’t need 5% mortgages). But they are building you a brick house which won’t be completed, that will fall apart, that you won’t be able to afford.
The concept of stereotypical British home being a brick-built house with symmetrical windows and pitched pantile roof is very strange. It’s real, but why? Its origins are in the mass house building of the Victorian era which was only possible due to the other advances of the era, namely the dramatic improvement in logistics due to the arrival of the railways and canals. Both enabled the movement of heavy and bulky goods like bricks and tiles over long distances at affordable costs. Perfect for building houses where there was no clay to be found naturally nearby, and so in combination with house pattern books which housebuilders could use to build ‘off the shelf’ designs the stereotyped British home was created. And it came about out of logistical and manufacturing developments, as prior to this all homes had to be built using materials available nearby. Why else are there more thatched barns in Norfolk which also happens to have the Broads, a handy place for growing reed. So historically architectural style was defined by the prevailing availability of materials to hand.
So why have we now latched on to a period of times style and demand that all new buildings should look like this? In no other field of design is this the case, no one is demanding their new iPhone have a rotary dial or separate hearing piece to put against their ear like a phone James Alexander bell used to make the first call with. Nobody is buying a brand new 4K television for the footy, but being disappointed to find that it isn’t 3 foot deep anymore like an old CRT one from the 1990’s. Nor is anyone demanding that their new Ford Focus look like a Model-T ford. Despite the Model-T being a massive success, Henry Ford didn’t then sit on his laurels and expect to make the same car for the next 100 years, some innovation was inevitable.
So I am somewhat perplexed by the idea that we are happy to define our buildings appearance to being a timewarp pastiche made from GRP and European bricks, and that in doing so we are quite happy to accept a litany of disadvantages to it as a consequence.
In essence, the most important aspect has been defined as the ‘traditional brick’ appearance, and all other factors are subsidiary to this. Cost, efficiency, sustainability, quality, none of them matter much, just as long as it’s brick.
However, I would argue strongly this prioritisation is wrong for obvious reasons, but that a much better approach would be to not prioritise ‘design or aesthetic’ at all. That isn’t to say I don’t want buildings to look nice, because I really do, but they don’t look nice at the moment anyway, so the strategy of prioritising appearance seems like quite a waste of effort and resources at this point. Instead, prioritise the choice of materials, by which I mean the material that is best for the job. Nobody is building cars with bodywork made from fired clay, you could, but why would you? The disadvantages outweigh the benefits, Aluminium makes a lot more sense.
So lets build houses with appropriate materials, for example timber frame, and zinc cladding. Focussing on the materials and processes to get the best from them, and allowing those materials to define the design. You need thick walls for all the extra insulation, well that’s fine, it has a chunky aesthetic. Honesty of materials is one of the simplest and most effective ways of designing well, that’s why a pestle and mortar is made from granite and a bic pen is made from plastic, they’re both the best material for the job, and both timeless design classics. It’s the performance as a whole that matters, not the appearances alone. This is how all buildings were built historically anyway, using the materials on hand and the functional requirements to define the appearance, rather than the other way around.
Whilst the housebuilders claim they’re just providing what the public want, the public has almost no choice in the house they buy due to such high demand and poor supply, the house builders could clad homes in pebbledash and people would still buy them, so why not maximise your profits and make a house with the most appropriate material with the most appropriate process available, I bet it will make a much better home.
Hopefully, the housebuilders can innovate themselves out of the corner they’ve created for themselves, all they need to do is look at their company car.
what can I help you with?
I love design and solving problems
+ industrial design
+ architectural design
+ circular design
+ material design
+ parametric design
+ design writing
who am I?
Bertie Hipkin.
I have recently finished studying a masters in ‘Design for Manufacture’ (MArch) at the Bartlett School of Architecture within University College London.
I am a keen problem solver and hope to apply my skills to find answers to some of the issues we face, both big and small.
I am interested in a wide spectrum of things, and try to identify the knock-on effects of design decisions.
The ideas of using reed which I propose here were uncovered in the process of writing my masters thesis.
But felt the idea had great potential and deserved being taken further.
what can I help you with?
I love design and solving problems
+ industrial design
+ architectural design
+ circular design
+ material design
+ parametric design
+ design writing
drop me a line
I love a creative challenge; a house, a hairbrush, a hand dryer, or anything in between.
I would love the chance to get involved with anything that requires some design, so drop me a line, and let’s see what happens.