



Rumors circulate around a 1960s swimming hall: the floor slabs may or may not contain sand. An underground buttress has a human-sized hole drilled into it. Amid these, and many other ambiguities, one thing is certain—the building is damp and in need of repair, as it has been thirty years since the last complete renovation.
This scenario is common in repair projects, where uncertainties arise, requiring numerous site visits, measurements, and microscopic test samples.
Despite efforts by the concrete, steel, and petrochemical industries to standardize construction, many modern buildings have still required detailed manual work and experimental on-site adjustments. These improvisations, along with subsequent renovations, are often not documented comprehensively.
A key question then emerges: how do we preserve this knowledge?
Maintenance workers, janitors, and cleaners—those who work most closely with buildings—possess essential knowledge of how to fix damp walls, prevent mold, and select the right detergents for various floors.
Years of experience have led to refined maintenance practices, passed down in part through oral tradition. In order to keep the built environment liveable, we must view these as skills that should be continuously practiced and passed down through generations.
Given the potential obsolescence of specific digital formats over time, we should place greater emphasis on passing down maintenance and repair knowledge through human interaction.
Without idealizing a nostalgic past of artisanal work or ignoring the realities of mass production and architecture’s ties to real estate capital, we could integrate maintenance knowledge into architectural practice, reconnecting with material reality and engaging in the tradition of repair.
This process helps us recognize structural inequalities in labor within the built environment and acknowledge our role in the labor market, prompting reflection on why we value new products over maintenance work, and data over experience.