Never Built: Virginia’s Unrealized Architectural Legacy

In 2008, the Library of Virginia presented an exhibition titled Never Built Virginia to highlight examples of structures that never were and pose the question, “What if?” In the age of recycling, redevelopment, and reuse, it seemed appropriate to revisit these frustrated ventures, lost competitions, and unrealized commissions held in the Library’s collections. To double-down on that reuse theme, this blog post highlights some of the content from the Never Built Virginia exhibition with a few updates.

The commonwealth’s architectural triumphs are well documented. From Thomas Jefferson’s efforts to set the national tone with his design of the Virginia State Capitol to Taubman Museum’s avant-garde glass and steel, built structures garner attention. But what of those that never made it beyond the drafting table? We can appreciate existing buildings and comment on their merits (or lack of), and we can also wistfully reminisce about long-gone buildings. With a building that never was, however, we have only the architect’s concept—a daydream.

As with any creative work, architectural designs don’t always appeal to the clients or critics of their time. Those same designs, however, may charm a later generation and be revisited or re-envisioned as new works. That these drawings and models for unrealized projects survive is a wonder. Architects often systematically destroy materials for old or unexecuted projects to save space, resulting in the loss of this architectural heritage.

These creations played a role in the discussions and debates that gave rise to our built environment. Perhaps the architect’s concept was too advanced for its time, or maybe the funding for a project collapsed. What do we think of these designs today? Are we relieved that a particular structure was never built? Or do we feel disappointed that the design never made it to construction? These unexecuted building projects not only entertain the eye but also enliven the mind. They challenge the viewer to consider what is possible—to think of the built environment that surrounds us as an extension of ourselves and our place in history.

Government has always played a significant role in shaping architecture in the United States. From the nation’s founding, governmental architectural commissions have sought to convey the country’s strength and durability, as well as the authority and sovereignty of its institutions. Government patronage has generated many unrealized architectural projects. Changes in administration, lack of funding, the input of competition review boards, and public comment are just some of the factors that might prohibit a project from moving beyond the drawing board.

Thomas Jefferson sought to set the standard for monumental civic architecture in the United States through his plans for the Virginia State Capitol. Jefferson designed public buildings as models to reform the taste of the colonies and the new nation.

Borrowing heavily from antiquity, Jefferson’s State Capitol building evoked ideas of democracy and order by combining the lofty principles and grand scale of the Classical tradition with established Virginia building customs. The first use of the ancient temple form in American civic architecture, the State Capitol symbolized the country’s republican ideals and heavily influenced later state and local governmental complexes.

Deeply conservative architecturally, Virginia has flirted with modernist architecture on occasion. Architectural records collections can offer insight into the dynamic between architect and client, a crucial factor in the progression of a building from idea to edifice. Individuals contract with major architects to diversify the architectural landscape, as seen in former ambassador Walter Rice’s residence created by architect Richard Neutra, for example. Corporations such as Best Products sought buildings that were distinctive and that suggested the owner’s place in the modern economy. Virginia’s deep-rooted traditionalism doomed many schemes, especially public projects, that were deemed too radical—whether aesthetically, technically, or socially. Those who speak out in protest or support of a project through public meetings, letters to newspaper editors, or control of funds reveal something about the collective principles—communal values—of their communities.

Richmond architect Haigh Jamgochian attempted to push the boundaries of Richmond’s traditionalist approach to building. Beginning with his so-called “Tree House” in 1962, Jamgochian challenged the architectural establishment with cantilevered, organic, and even revolving structures inspired by nature, their building site, or both. Unfortunately, Jamgochian’s designs were more successful at selling building products and garnering commissions. Only two of his creations were built, and only one survives to the present day.

Documentation for unrealized projects often finds its way to the dustbin, not the metaphorical dustbin of history, but the actual trash can in the architect’s office. This is most often true with models of unexecuted architectural designs. Few architects invest in the preservation of unrealized project concepts.

Architectural historian George R. Collins contends in Unbuilt America, however, that “the complete history of architecture is … the history of the built and the unbuilt…” Nevertheless, surviving drawings of proposed, but unbuilt, structures speak to architectural trends, personal tastes, and the role of corporate architecture in economic expansion.