Architecture is a key to history. Remains of buildings present the basic stuff of archaeology because their foundations tend to be constructed of durable materials whose imprint in the ground perpetuates useful information on the environment our forebears knew. Archaeologically-preserved foundations are especially useful because plans tell us the shape and size of a building, how many rooms were contained within its facades, the areas and proportions of those rooms and even how people circulated within and between them. This kind of behaviour reveals the habits and patterns of everyday life, and illuminates the purpose of the objects found in context.

Let’s not forget our own contribution to the lives of old buildings: we still live amongst historic houses and churches every day, partly because buildings have the capacity to evolve and remain useful habitations, and partly because we value the lasting achievements of our ancestors. So, buildings are both practical and emotive: at their best, they can be a deeply satisfying synthesis of design and art. As a result, they are potent symbols, and the distinction between a work of ‘architecture’ and a typically commemorative ‘monument’ is often blurred: many of Britain’s old buildings were catalogued and published by the Royal Commission on Historic Monuments, and the supreme candidate for governmental protection is the ‘Scheduled Ancient Monument’, ‘ancient’ being another relativism.

Standing buildings also represent archaeology, because all buildings change over time through remodelling, repair and decay, and we need clues to help us interpret their origins. We might examine the materials of construction, which can tell a story of the trade and transportation of stone, the forestry that provided its lumber, or the piecemeal or industrial manufacture of brick. By looking closely, we can appreciate a mason’s setting, a carpenter’s cutting or a joiner’s precision, or maybe we’d baulk at the shoddiness of a wall that was knocked up on a Friday afternoon in 1824 and quickly hidden by panelling. When we decorate and strip layers of wallpaper, we might be peeling away an archive of taste in interior decoration through the ages. The shape of windows, the structure of a roof, the style of a door: each aspect of an old building speaks to us, and we just need to share the visual grammar of our ancestors to understand it.

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