Preserving Jerusalem

Architecturally speaking, Jerusalem is the city of stone. Local law requires that buildings must be faced with rock quarried from the surrounding hills, and the pink and beige hues of the stone have been a unifying element in a city with a diverse social and geographical composition.

"Stone is eternal," observes Philippe Brandes, lecturer in Urban Planning and Architecture at the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design in Jerusalem. "It is the most appropriate fabric for the Holy City. Cuts in the stone aesthetically use shadow and light in a region with an abundance of bright sunshine."

"Jerusalem is where east meets west, geographically as well as socially," he observes. "To the east is desert with flat-roofed oriental buildings, while to the west is forest and a greater use of Western Mediterranean red tile roofs."

Brandes fears that the economic boom enjoyed by Israel in the 1990s is threatening the city's fragile architectural environment. "Alien fabrics such as glass are being overused," he insists, "and too many high-rise buildings are disrupting the city's skyline."

Leading Jerusalem-born architect Moshe Safdie agrees. "Building in Jerusalem demands humility," he comments. "It requires absorbing the past, reflecting upon it, respecting it." Consequently, Safdie's Mamilla project, a large residential, tourist and commercial complex linking the Old City with the New City, is a low-scale development in keeping with the city's historically modest proportions.

Brandes describes Jerusalem as an unfinished city. He views the Old City - a square kilometer containing the sites sacred to Judaism, Christianity and Islam, within the walls built in the 16th century by the Ottoman ruler Suleiman the Magnificent - as a completed gem. But since the mid-19th century, when construction began outside of the Old City walls, Jerusalem, like London, has become a "collection of villages that happen to be joined together."

Both Brandes and Safdie praise the preservation work that has been done in three of the oldest quarters outside of the Old City - the large Turkish-built houses of Morasha, the Andalusian style red-roofed buildings of Nahalat Shiva and the narrow alleyways and courtyards of Nahlaot. Sand-blasting the stone walls, restoring balconies and window arches and creating pedestrian malls by banishing cars have all helped recapture the original atmosphere of many quarters.

The most dramatic transformation has been in Yemin Moshe. Built in the mid-19th century, this first neighborhood outside of the Old City had degenerated into a slum by the late 1960s. But renovation resulted in gentrification and today homes in this delightfully restored quarter fetch several million dollars or more.

Mr. Brandes insists that Jerusalem's 19th century architectural heritage is no less valuable than its older elements. He cites the large town houses in the Street of the Prophets designed by German-born architect Conrad Schick, and the nearby more modest buildings and courtyards of the ultra-orthodox neighborhood of Mea Shearim as delightful examples of design from last century.

"Jerusalem has to remain a village-style city," he insists, "with its neighborhood structure. The challenge is not so much to preserve but to enlarge the city while maintaining its unity and integrity."

Mr. Brandes is appreciative of the large outer suburbs such as Gilo and Ramot, which were built in the 1970s, but urges commercial and office development and public transportation systems that will draw these neighborhoods closer to the city center.

"Architecture is a question of balance," he says. "And the essence of Jerusalem is to build a modem, working city which does not disturb the romantic city of stone and gold that we have in our biblical memory."