Thoughts and Cares about Post-Restoration

Thematic folder

text: KÖLLŐ Miklós

The restored St. Anne's Chapel in Gheorgheni; photo Szigeti Vajk-István

The present article attempts to present three types of dangers that I have noticed during almost two decades of my practice as a restorer, dangers that can occur over time and that are amplified with the restoration of a historical monument: (1) "migration of crafts into archives", (2) "pressure of modern techniques in the context of lack of education" and (3) "appeasing of conscience".

Migration of trades into archives

In this respect we identified two phenomena. On the one hand, the loss of crafts (necessary for restoration processes) through the disappearance of craftsmen, on the other hand, the changing environment of preservation/support of traditional crafts. The phenomena can be captured during the "restoration"/reconstruction of 3 and 1/2 water mills, interventions in the area of vernacular architecture, ephemeral: two of the interventions are on and near historical monuments, the third mill could be classified, because after restoration/reconstruction it has all the specific qualities. The fourth one is not a historical monument and has not been restored, but it is nevertheless related to the subject, since it is a reconstruction of a water mill, based on the simple fact that the mill existed in the collective memory of the place and the community wanted to rebuild it.
The common element of these interventions is reconstruction, an increasingly present and widely discussed process in restoration practice over the last decade, forcing the established rule that reconstruction stops where the assumption begins.
The message of the present article, however, is (as a reflection on the problems and attitudes encountered during and after restoration) more about appreciating the craftsmen who still master the traditional crafts, i.e., "reconstructing" the crafts necessary to preserve these vernacular monuments over time, and adopting a responsible attitude towards cultural heritage, and not the architectural objects themselves (as they are not the subject, but only the medium of discussion).
I would like to point out what the water mills meant and why they are a real problem for restoration. Before, annual repairs were done in a claque, a way of (obligatory) mutual (obligatory) brotherhood between the Szeklers. The millers, in turn, practiced this institutionalized form of collaboration for the joint maintenance of the mills. The one who was best at 'cutting' the stone did this for everyone, just as the one who was best at carpentry, carpentry, plowing the dyke, etc., also worked together to keep watch in winter and break the ice to prevent damage caused by melting snow.
The problem is that there are hardly any millers left, or they are very, very old, and only by talking can they explain how a certain phase of maintenance/repair should be done. During the 20th century, the millers had a hard fate in our region: after the First World War, when the Romanian administration was installed, pressure was exerted on the millers to be granted the right to a share of the water in the riverbed, i.e. they were asked to convert to a religion closer to the Orthodox one; and many of them became Greek-Catholics. During the Second World War, 'in the small Hungarian world', as the locals say, the resettled Hungarian administration made it difficult for them to convert, as it was considered treason; many of them were forced into forced labor and those who stayed at home were beaten. As mills were community places where people still gathered to chat while the wheat was being milled, they were undesirable in Stalinist times, so after a few peaceful post-war years, millers were forced to work as laborers in their own confiscated mills. They did it under clearly bankrupt conditions (many of them were left with the debts, as after the war they had to borrow money to rebuild the mills), and anyone who tried to work secretly (it was quite hard, the mill having a roar like a machine gun on continuous fire) and was caught, did hard years in prison for a few kilos of grain. Steam-powered, later electric-powered, mills were the coup de grace for water-powered mills, which since the 1970s have been used virtually rarely. So it is not surprising that mills have, paradoxically, disappeared just as white energy is starting to make a comeback.
Thus, water mills (not being productive enough compared to today's mills) have become mere relics of the past. Although they are clean in terms of energy, only tourism has managed to keep a few water mills standing; whether historical monuments or not, they have turned into almost 'ruins in the landscape' scenery, illustrating the passage of time. And as they were built of wood, there's not much left behind.

The restored St. Anne's Chapel in Gheorgheni; photo Köllő Miklós

The first intervention presented is the restoration of the water mill in Senetea, a category B historical monument. Its uniqueness lies in the fact that it is a river mill - and not a stream mill, with rushing water - being set in motion by the slow-moving water of the Mures. It is just that, with the regularization of the Mures, the water level has dropped, so that the mill is no longer functional until after heavy rainfall or in spring, when the snow melts, when the increased flow allows it. (I believe that when it was decided to regularize the Mureș, what would happen to the mill in this context was a minor problem.) We had problems, however, with the re-wetting: the construction, in a few areas outside and throughout the interior of the miller's dwelling, was wetted using a technique now extinct in the area. During the tests, the humidified surface, which looked as if it was old, cracked very quickly, and the one that survived did not look like the original. It took a whole series of experiments before we achieved the desired result. And we still don't know how long it will last. For now, it's holding. I mean, in a way, here we have reconstructed a "craft" of yesteryear: from descriptions, from old recipes, from the practice still existing in the area of the Csangas in Moldova. But we would have needed local experience, which we were completely lacking: the local clay and sand are different from in Moldova, the recipe needs to be modified slightly, and the cement mixer was preferred to cutting with a hoe and 'trampling' the clay. I believe, with all due respect, that what we have succeeded in doing is merely 'mimicking' the process rather than following the traditional route.
In the case of this mill, we can speak of a 'reconstruction' in the true sense of the word, given that, in the case of wooden constructions, dismantling and reassembling the construction in order to replace a piece can be considered a 'minor' intervention. The condition of the timber material made this method necessary, and during restoration the choice was made to wrap and gas-treat the timber material affected by a serious biological attack. This customary practice of numbering, dismantling and reassembling wooden constructions still exists in the area and we have not encountered any difficulties in this respect.
The second mill could be saved more easily, as the building had some structural problems (especially in the area of the foundations). Reconstruction here was limited to the mill's outer wheels (which have since disappeared, and have been partially replaced by a much smaller, unsuitable wheel) and the rebuilding of the dam: the data in the archives and the existence of several old mills in the area, as well as the chance of the presence of craftsmen who still mastered the old techniques of working with wood, made our task much easier. Luckily there were craftsmen who had seen how to build a mill in their childhood, had mastered the necessary techniques, there was a wheel nearby identical to the one in the archival documents, etc.
The third intervention was the reconstruction of a mill that had existed until the 1950s in Izvoare, now preserved only in the memory of the locals. It did not appear in the land register, we had no data on what it looked like, we were simply asked to rebuild it. Yes, essentially the mechanisms have not changed since the Middle Ages, yes, we still have a few water saws still standing (usually inoperative). But they weren't local, they were over 60 kilometers away. Thus, we reconstructed only the essence of the joagăr: a mechanism similar to those of the past (which was, in fact, dismantled and repeatedly moved upstream, closer to the forest that was being spaced out as the trees were being harvested), protected by a contemporary wooden shed (when the joagăr was moved, the building housing the mechanism was completely rebuilt, according to the current fashion and the possibilities of the beneficiary). Here a second problem arose: if working with the bard was a common procedure a few decades ago, today anyone who still knows how to do it has at least a doctorate in wood carving. What I want to point out is the transfer of this craft from the peasant techniques to the artistic environment, where it is no longer used on a daily basis, but only occasionally. As a result, the 'practice' of the craft is being lost, with the necessary woodwork being much more expensive (or less efficient and durable over time).
The fourth mill collapsed until the ownership was clarified and is sitting under a protective tent erected as an emergency intervention with the help of several volunteers, waiting for the moment when it can be legally intervened, with the property deeds in order. But will there still be craftsmen to start it with, without too much experimentation and trial and error?