Tuesday 14 April 2015

Lego House

There is such a thing as 'deconstruction'. 

Earlier this week I was in bed and I became aware of an industrial sound. I couldn't explain the specifics, but I could tell that it was some big machinery clumsily breaking down a structure close by. The house across the street is due to be redeveloped. I wondered if they were knocking it down. My mind started building the scene; I found myself imaging what it looked like inside. I wondered if it had timber floors or cladding. I wondered if they'd removed the fittings from the doors and the windows. I wondered if they take out the wiring and plumbing. My knowledge of the processes of demolition is basically non-existent, so it was all projection.

Then I was wondering if they would be salvaging anything and I thought about asking them for curiosity's sake to find out if/how often they do reuse/recycle the materials they're removing. When I found the source there was nobody on site. Australia has, on average, the biggest houses on earth, but looking at the fragmented pieces of the classic Melbourne home got me thinking about something much smaller. Lego.

This is what was left of the demolition later that day.

Nobody would build a house from Lego, detail it with little battery-powered lights and hand-painted wallpaper, and then crush it and bin it. That would be crazy, that stuff is so expensive!! I know Lego is valuable because I pay for the little pieces. If I saw a child play with it then smash it I'd be stunned, and convinced that they'd been spoiled to the point of having an absent sense of value. I realised that I didn't feel the same way seeing the blunt destruction of a building, and the increasingly common flare of disappointment with my own thinking turned up.


You build something with Lego, you take it apart, you use it again - it costs too much to waste. Within real houses, aside from a stack of potentially reusable materials, they have the embedded energy of mining, deforestation, processing, transportation, all manner of labour... I know a little about construction, but I'd literally never heard of deconstruction. I've heard of demolition, but 'deconstruction' - as the concept of a meticulous and opposite process to original construction - was a new idea for me.

I did some research. It turns out there are some little doconstruction businesses who very successfully take-apart residential and small industrial structures. They divert a high percentage of waste from landfill and salvage a maximum of reusable materials. One difference between their idea of reuse, versus post-demolition recycling, is that some of the materials can be used in their current form again (instead of being downcycled and broken up for aggregate or woodchip). However these businesses are relatively niche. Why is that?

I know it isn't economically viable to pay the labour of deconstruction, but why? When did our supply of raw material become so limitless that it would be the standard option to do anything else? It didn't. A century ago we would have deconstructed and reused. In developing nations they still deconstruct. So what are we doing?

I found some wonderful information on councils and regions applying regulations which increase the quantity of construction and demolition (frequently shortened to C&D) material being recycled instead of landfilled. Trying to constantly develop technology and practices to improve this has been a focus for different councils and consultant companies, and they've made inspiring progress with a handful of recurring issues.

The main, continual problems seemed to be:
- toxic contamination (asbestos, lead paint, timber treatments)
- mixing of materials/difficulty in separation
- attachment to traditional practise
- need for education about reusing reclaimed materials instead of common and easy option

These problems can be solved with increased interest, investment, and development of markets for salvaged materials.

Although the potential of construction/deconstruction may not seem relevant to you at the moment, the practise of designing for end-of-life, with an opportunity to recover as many resources as possible at the end of the first product lifecycle, is a good and applicable practise for any area of design. It can also be used as a mindful selection principle for any sort of product, from unpackaged foodstuffs to natural, ethically sourced clothing, and toiletries which are free from chemicals and plastics. 

Now deconstruction and material salvage is something I'd certainly bear in mind if I was ever involved in the process of building, removing or renovating a home, and I'm glad it's a work in progress in many places.

Landfill waste has been playing heavily on my mind lately.  It just seems like the most apathetic solution to the amount we generate. An extra layer of the problem - exporting waste to other countries to contaminate their natural areas (with products they sometimes haven't even reached the ability of owning firsthand) - is something I'll try to expand on later. But paying attention to the products you use and the potential for them to be reused, recycled, composted or reworked when you're finished with them is a switched-on thinking process for modern consumers, and the earliest stage in avoiding contributing to landfill in the first place.

No comments:

Post a Comment