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Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
Series Editor
Gilles Pijaudier-Cabot
Preliminary Design
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as
permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced,
stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers,
or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms and licenses issued by the
CLA. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside these terms should be sent to the publishers at the
undermentioned address:
www.iste.co.uk www.wiley.com
Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the
author(s), contributor(s) or editor(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of ISTE Group.
Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix
Remo DORIGATI
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii
This a work for which we have been waiting for a long time, because it confronts
the problem of sustainability without starting from general energy-saving principles
and the ways in which Prometheus stole energy from the Gods (nature), but, more
simply, from a device that not only embodies in itself the general terms of the
problem, but also, and above all, has the capacity to extend its domain to numerous
disciplinary areas: architectural design, building energy, construction materials,
aesthetic perception, natural lighting, ventilation, physical well-being, regulations,
etc. The greenhouse becomes almost a pretext to traverse new ways through which
humans discover hidden forces in nature waiting to be freed. In this work, an
explicit, strong desire for pacification with nature can be recognized, combined with
a desire to make the generous properties of nature emerge, to build a sincere and
determined dialogue that does not require “active” procedures and external energies,
but produces what it needs simply by extracting from itself what it already has in
itself, hidden in the mechanism of transformation of solar radiation into heat energy.
But all this, which is internal to a rigorous scientific path, cannot help to have
significant consequences not only on the manner in which urban artifacts are used,
but also, and above all, on their spatial organization, on the languages and new
materials that this experience carries with itself, thanks to the fact that it involves all
of the procedures of architectural design, at all scales.
Today, it is difficult to imagine what the next new forms of living and inhabiting
will be. But what we can expect is that they will be structures in which
thermodynamics, in its diverse applications, will play a significant role. It is
completely natural that, in the new tendency, the energy issue will have to enter into
x Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
a dialogue with all the forces boiling up in the design world, and that – and above all
– it will have an essential role in the considerations that are born around the concept
of place, in which the historical–social experience will also find reasons in those
physical variables that belong to the concept of environment. These are variables
that can be measured and compared, and that can influence the thermal gradient
triggering the signal of well-being.
After all, this work on greenhouses already shows, in some historical examples,
that the phenomena linked to site position, orientation, slope, material, etc. are often
related to rules born from simple laws of nature such as gravity, transmission of
solar radiation, seasonal cycles, wind, ground, transmissivity, isolation and storage.
In this manner, in architectural design, a process takes a shape such that the
interrelations that are born between a simple object of design (the greenhouse) and a
broad disciplinary range are the product of a series of contaminations in which
beauty and function put into discussion analogical references spanning from simple
envelopes conceived for botanics and agriculture, to exposition places, to house-
integrated greenhouses, to greenhouses as spaces.
But how much of the living space of humans is a design theme? For now, we are
witnessing some bold experiments in which architecture tries to go beyond the
simple addition/filter of a greenhouse body to become an integrated structure, up to
the point of transforming the living space. The transparencies of Mies van der Rohe,
dissolving the limit between inside and outside, complexify themselves, for
example, within the projects by Lacaton and Vassal, up to the point of becoming
devices capable of climatizing environments that renounce neither the landscape nor
well-being. We are witnessing multiple attempts that not only try to answer the
simple energy quest, but also have the courage to reflect on the ways in which a new
language in architecture is being formed. More and more frequently, new forms
deriving from technological and formal experiments put the novel ways of living on
trial; and with them, the materials and spaces mix up the traditional functions on the
basis of new hierarchies and relations.
But where do the new forms come from? What tensions are sustaining and
orienting them?
We often see bizarre and gratuitous proposals that arise from an obsessive need
for new and unusual formal structures; a need that gets exhausted by itself. This is
an old thread, involving the concept of autonomy of architecture and the very
complex relation of architecture with the evolution of society and its representation.
Today, we are witnessing a mutation that involves both the world of digitization and
Foreword xi
that inherent in the energy issue and its reflection on environmental problems. It is
entirely legitimate that we ask ourselves how these changes can impact not only the
forms that support the reasons for economic choices, but also the new cultural
sensitivities that assign the task of reconsidering the relationship between artifice
and nature to human intervention. Then, mitigation interventions such as
greenhouses do not simply add themselves to the existing artifacts, as so often
happens, but become an architectural project by themselves, proposing themselves
as a new form in which temperature and light, heat storage and transparency,
ventilation and exposure produce a new order.
This is a research path in which the legacy of the past plays an essential role in
the verification of proposals whose principles (and not just forms) arise from real
experiences and theoretical reflections. Paxton’s cathedral, or palace, represented a
real revolution, where an ancient basilical scheme was realized in iron and glass,
flooding the indoor spaces with light: a magic, even though the technology entailed
significant problems at a thermal level. This experimentation, however, precedes the
theme of urban galleries (W. Benjamin), which extends the search for the artificial
space that will later produce the magnificent typologies of “urban living spaces” of
the 19th century. All of the artifacts such as park greenhouses or the wide glass
surfaces of curtain walls represented a sort of karst river that re-emerged in virtue of
that research, which leaves the task of indicating strategies aimed at saving energy to
architecture and urbanism. While remaining within its own disciplinary domain,
architecture is called upon to propose and experiment with new models in which
thermodynamics becomes the new “stone guest”.
The analogy with the fracture produced by the Modern Movement in relation to
the great urbanization processes is completely spontaneous. From the criticism of
the 19th-century city, proposals arise that extend to all problematic and design scales
that found – in relation to artistic experiences – new forms that are also new
lifestyles. The Frankfurt kitchen, with its determinate functional analysis, also
becomes a formal prototype that can be taken as a symbol of a different role of the
architecture of modernity. The design that, at the beginning of the century, enters in
strict relation to social and economic problems, producing a new idea of living in its
spatial organization. Today, the search for alternative energy sources, both active
and passive, plays a fundamental role in understanding the new trends, even if the
results appear under-trace and are supported only by a few sectorial magazines.
irreconcilable, but which concern the same object: the point of view of the natural
sciences and that of the human sciences, so that we discover that artifice and nature,
science and poetry, belong to the same domain. It is as if emotion could have its
counterpart, its projection, into the world of accuracy.
The author of this work analyzes and describes the greenhouse as a positive,
existing fact, the principle of which, before residing in a definite type, is born from
its specific properties (orangeries, exposition space, vegetable garden, building
prosthesis, factory, tunnel, etc.), which define different forms of functional and
special modality. That this greenhouse was a bright and welcoming space is
something that is said by us.
rather than a type in itself. What is put into play is not a classification
experimentation based on the canons of formal typology and covering all the
problematic functional range of cases embedded in handbooks of proven proposals
for professional use, which would require conceiving the artifact as a given
structure, subject to simple contextual tricks, already ready for use and, after all,
always equal to itself. On the contrary, the author’s aim is to let a wide field of
possibilities emerge, made of analogies open to multiple opportunities and
combinations.
The theme of the greenhouse, its solar gains, heat losses, ventilation and
accumulation, is analyzed here with commitment and rigor, as well as in calculation
criteria and simulations: a very delicate operation when we cross ventilation and
temperature, humidity and light, to verify the level of well-being which constitutes,
then, what is of most interest. But what appears most significant here is certainly the
method of investigation, on the basis of which the study does not start from the most
general premises of the energy problems, for deriving the greenhouse device, but, on
the contrary, from the given object, as if it were an archaeological investigation, a
found object of which we try to reconstruct the meaning and value of use. An object
that found our author in the moment of his formation, and which insisted on being a
central research fact. What is it, what is it for, how does it work, with what
materials? It is the object “greenhouse”, a specific physical and material datum
suggesting a culture, a historical moment, a technology and the role it played in
human relations.
From the experimentation of the broad windows of the orangeries, to the crystal
envelope of Paxton’s cathedral, up to geodesic domes, the greenhouse passes from
the functional role linked to botany and exposure to that of an artificial habitat in
which humans find their due comfort. A simple functional device can transform
itself into a living space in which humans can coexist with an exuberant nature, and
also into a large public space hosting multiple functions (exhibitions, galleries,
commerce, gardens, games and meetings, etc.). Poor materials such as wood, iron
Foreword xv
and glass, typical of industrial buildings, trace metaphors today that derive from the
large sails that formed the habitat for the cultivation of rare essences, and in this
mantle of light, all the charm of a space that is a garden inside the house and in the
city remains, as well as an easy and low-cost resource to manage.
Remo DORIGATI
September 2022
Introduction
I have had the intention of writing a book about bioclimatic greenhouses for a
very long time, but I only really began to work on it when I found myself
completing it by just writing down (and drawing) what I already had in mind, rather
than rehearsing the contents before beginning to write. The reason why I waited so
long is that I felt the task was going to be tough, due to the myriad connections that
greenhouse design has with lots of things in both architecture and nature – which is
something that I have strived to give an intuition throughout the text.
The depth and pervasivity of these connections is the main reason why I became
fascinated with greenhouses in the first place, since the old days of my PhD
research. Indeed, back then I had already realized that I was more interested in
gaining a broad knowledge about a specific thing (e.g. a complete view of a
relatively simple object, like a greenhouse), rather than a narrow competence (like,
say, roofings or air conditioning systems) regarding a complex object (like a
complex building), despite the fact that the structure of modern knowledge is closer
to the latter. But I have to admit that the fact that I tend to be a contrarian has also
contributed to fostering my interest in greenhouses. Greenhouses, indeed, are perfect
for a contrarian, because they defy expectations: they draw out a lot from almost
nothing, to the point that even their domain boundaries are difficult to define.
Indeed, a greenhouse can be many things. It can be something heating a house, or it
can be the house; it can be a place where plants thrive, or the harshest of places; it
can be a food-producing device in a factory, or a building “parasite” on a 24th floor;
it can have the aspect of an inorganic double façade, or of the darkest and moistest
shadehouse.
types and systems. My hope is that this work can facilitate the path towards that end,
and help the reader to go beyond what they may ordinarily receive.
The aim of an integrated understanding is the reason why I have organized the
content of this work in “waves” overlapping each other – as you may find in a
narrative – rather than in compartments – as you might find in a handbook. As a
result, the focus of these chapters and volumes transitions progressively from
geometrical considerations related to solar gains and heat losses, to heat transfer and
storage, to natural ventilation and cooling strategies, to the functional consequences
of different types of use of greenhouses, to construction criteria, to greenhouse
typologies, to calculation and simulation criteria, to examples of good practices; and
these transitions occur in a recursive manner, again and again. Each time, hopefully,
gaining some depth and momentum.
The goal of this line of attack is to make this work capable of standing for a
thorough reading, while at the same time capable of tolerating some skipping, or
direct landing into specific parts.
Regarding the targeted readership, I often find myself realizing that, because I
am an architect by education, most of the time, involuntarily, I often end up
speaking above all to architects, hinting at a knowledge that I believe we may share.
But because I also happen to be (I have always been) interested in everything (as
some architects sometimes are), I am hopeful that this work may succeed in
delivering information that is also suited to a broader readership.
The contents of this work have been organized in four volumes and four thematic
areas: Volume 1, preliminary design; Volume 2, design and construction of
structures and systems; Volume 3, design and construction of envelopes; Volume 4,
architectural integration and quantitative analyses. In the first volume – the present
one– the broadest design choices regarding greenhouses are analyzed. Choices
including: what shape should a greenhouse have, and why? How should it be
oriented in space? Where should it be transparent, and where opaque? How can it be
shaded? Where should it be openable for ventilation, and how can it be operated?
There are two notices. The first is about the content of novelty of some of the
presented materials. In each volume, I have included, along with sedimented
contents, some experimental contents drawn from my own research activity. The
reader will be made aware of the experimental contents at the appropriate places. An
example of experimentality, in the case of the present volume, is constituted by the
passive solar performance ratio presented in section 1.9.1.4.3. The second notice is
about the reference listings. The main possible options, when I wrote this work,
ranged from referencing the references in the notes, or citing them at the end of each
chapter. Both solutions had their pros and cons. So I ended up choosing a hybrid
Introduction xix
approach, in which the references have sometimes been cited alongside the text, and
in any case in an “On references” closure at the end of some sections; then they have
been re-listed in full in a final “References” section at the end of each volume.
Basic Concepts
“For the man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail” (Maslow 1966).
There is a lot of truth in this sentence. But we may also consider that there is a
positive side to having only a hammer: the fact that this compels us to learn how to
draw the most out of our tool, to learn it so well that we become one with it. We
could recognize this reality more easily if we accepted the fact that most of us, most
of the time, are a bit like the man with the hammer, not only outside of our areas of
expertise, but also within them. In other words: I believe that learning to do
everything with a hammer is less dumb than it may seem. What the man doing
everything with a hammer does, ultimately, is not trivial. It is nothing other than
extrapolation; that is, extending the application of a specific knowledge into a
broader context. It is a case of abstraction of the purest kind.
However, the fact that not all nails are equivalent should also be considered. This
is especially true for intellectual matters, where advanced and multi-faceted
analogues of the hammered nails exist. This is particularly relevant for greenhouse
design, due to the multi-facetedness of the knowledge areas involved (from
architectural design to building physics, to building mechanics, to agriculture),
which almost leaves no alternative to relying on such kinds of multi-faceted
“nails”.
This belief is the reason why many of the technical solutions presented in this
work could be usefully applied, even outside the specific domain of greenhouses –
for example, into the more general domain of wooden construction. But we may
wonder: if greenhouse technology is such a powerful idea, why does it not occupy a
more prominent role in today’s architectural world? There are several answers to
this. The first answer is that the question itself is not so well-posed, because
greenhouse envelope systems are already ubiquitous in architectural design. Only,
they are often tagged with other, fancier definitions, like curtain walls of double
façades. The second answer is that greenhouse systems are mainly passive solar
systems, and passive solar systems are difficult to “advertise”, as well as proselytize
about, due to the fact that they do not belong to the domain of disruptive
technologies, but to that of incremental ones: technologies that produce advantages
over the competing ones, but not of orders of magnitudes – which is not sufficient to
disrupt the market orientations.
The third answer is that the clarity of the objectives of solar greenhouse design is
likely to have suffered a deterioration during the last years (30 or 40), as an effect of
a self-referential reliance that seems to have taken place in the literature about the
topic in the last decades. This can happen whenever some technical knowledge is
not hard-wired in a strong discipline and is handed on from generation to generation,
hardly ever inputting new, fresh content in the process. When this occurs, there is,
indeed, the risk that the richness of the original message gets levelled out a bit more
at each pass.
Passive greenhouse design has followed this trajectory earlier than other solar
passive technologies, partially because some of the knowledge on which it is based
was not sufficiently mature, even at its climax (during the 1970s, indeed, optimism
about the possibility of greenhouses often hampered the improvement of design
solutions), and partially because the passive technologies have slowly become,
during the years, less and less fashionable than the active ones – above all, the
approaches based on the utilization of mechanical heating and cooling powered by
cheap photovoltaic energy.
Within the domain of housing, in particular, the fact that passive heating and
cooling technologies have progressively lost ground against active technologies has
Basic Concepts 3
significantly been due to the audacity of the “selling” tactics on the side of active
technologies, which have been promptly combined with super-insulation, which is
where most methods are now headed. These tactics have gone so far as to end up
re-branding active technologies into passive ones, by morphing the concept of
“active” into that of “passive”.
Considering the current state of things, the present work does not limit itself to
building upon modern progress, but also strives to recover some valuable knowledge
related to passive solar architecture that, due to neglect, is currently at risk of
oblivion. It does this in the belief that this knowledge can be useful both for
supporting the design and construction of true passive, mechanical-plant-free
greenhouses (and, more generally, buildings), and promoting some specific
construction techniques aimed at self-building. The implication of this combination
of approaches is extending the domain of what a greenhouse can do, by integrating
the principles of house-in-a-greenhouse and greenhouse-as-house into it. These ends
have been pursued by combining a constructional approach to design, targeting
appropriateness and constructibility, with a performance-based approach supported
by measurable indicators.
On references
Maslow, A.H. (1966). The Psychology of Science. Harper and Row, New York.
The premise for the mass appearance of greenhouses on the historical scene was
the availability of mass-produced glass sheets that occurred after the first phase of
the industrial revolution, around the beginning of the 19th century. But greenhouses
existed long before that. The first orangeries, indeed, dated back to the 16th century.
Only, before the industrial revolution, greenhouses, at least in continental Europe
and until the French revolution, mainly constituted a niche socio-cultural
phenomenon left to the aristocracy – or the bourgeoisie, where the latter was
strongest, as in the Netherlands.
In truth, the first orangeries were not even the first devices adopted to protect
plants and allow them to be cultivated in climates colder than their natural ones.
Movable wooden shelters, not made of glass, built before the winter around the
plants as they entered their winter “sleep” phase, were the earliest widespread
solution. Also, glass was actually not the earliest material possible for creating the
greenhouse effect. Earlier alternatives were not as efficient and convenient as glass,
but they nonetheless existed. Notoriously, thin slabs of gypsum or mica stone were
used for the Roman emperor Tiberius in the specularia to make the watermelons
mature, even out of season (Pliny the Elder, around CE 74), and light fabrics were
4 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
used for centuries before the industrial revolution to enclose the winter shelters for
plants, while allowing some light into them (Woods and Warren 1988).
It is, of course, very true that the availability of glass made a huge difference in
increasing the thermal and lighting effectiveness of greenhouses. But in spite of that,
due to the high thermal transmissivity of single glass panels, high-end horticultural
greenhouses up to the 19th century mostly relied on additional heating contributions
by mechanical plants (furnaces). In that case, if the temperature to which they were
raised during the winter was warm, they were defined as “hothouses” (see Figure 1.1).
The orangeries (shelters for growing oranges and lemons, both requiring warm
climates) were the first standardized greenhouses. Their early appearance is due to
the fact that they could be built using exactly the same technologies used for
buildings – windows set in masonry walls – and any specialized device. An
orangerie, indeed, constructionally, was nothing more than a room equipped with
unusually large windows, oriented as much as possible towards the equator
(i.e. south in the Northern Hemisphere), to maximize the collection of solar radiation
and the greenhouse effect (see Figures 1.2-1.5). Orangeries were usually designed
very much like buildings extensively glazed in the southward exposures, and were
usually kept detached from the main inhabited building (see Figure 1.5) (see, for
example, Campbel 1715–1725).
During the 18th century, glazing a greenhouse roof was possible, but unusual
(see Figure 1.6). Glazed roofs became more frequent at the end of the 18th century;
up to the point in which, in Britain, at the beginning of the 19th century, the
distinction between greenhouses with and without glazed roofs evolved in the
terminological distinction between greenhouses (glazed at the roof) and glasshouses
(or conservatories – unglazed at the roof).
At that time, the fact that the roofs of orangeries were not glazed was largely due
to the technical difficulty of making glass roofs water-tight, but, as the technologies
evolved, fundamental examples of solutions for water-tight glazed roofs began to
pop up. Prominent examples are the numerous glazed galleries built in France
(mainly in Paris) as early as the second half of the 18th century (Ache 1968), after
which glazed roofs began to take over internationally.
For about half a century, since the first decades of the 19th century, when the
effects of the industrial revolution became stronger, greenhouses, built with primary
structures of cast iron and secondary structures of iron or timber, were used by the
wealthy classes in Northern Europe (in the first place, England and Scotland), more
for their capacity to delimitate microclimates without blocking the solar radiation
Basic Concepts 9
than for that of heating themselves passively thanks to the greenhouse effect. But
after that phase, slowly and progressively, greenhouses began to be used
increasingly as utilitarian places for vegetable farming, plant exposition, people
hosting expositions and fairs (up to the world exhibitions), occasional gatherings
(see the glazed galleries on the Champs-Élysées in Paris), train stations and markets.
It is a trajectory that, during the second half of the 19th century and the beginning of
the 20th century, largely coincided with the development of the new architecture of
iron (in the first place) and steel (before the turn of the century) (Lemoine 1986).
For a long time, the exploitation of the greenhouse effect, as mentioned, was not
at the core of the heating strategy of greenhouses. In the botanical greenhouses of
the first decades of the 18th century, for example, the heating function was often
pursued by conveying hot air or vapor through underground galleries under the
greenhouses themselves, and the hot air or vapor was heated by burning wood or
coal, without any objective of saving energy or limiting pollution emissions.
The most innovative greenhouse designer of that period was the English botanist
John Loudon, who was also active as a journal editor (see Figures 1.7–1.9).
Figure 1.8. Another study about greenhouse shape by John Claudius Loudon.
This shape anticipates that of modern Chinese solar greenhouses to a
surprising extent (see section 3.7.3.2) (from: Loudon (1818))
10 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
At a construction level, the two leading glazing solutions that emerged in this
period and the following decades were, on the one hand, the pragmatic mullion-and-
transom system (the ancestor of today’s ever-present stick system, aimed at the
construction of curtain walls), pioneered by the Irish builder Richard Turner, and
Basic Concepts 11
Figure 1.10. Hothouses by Charles Rohault de Fleury in the Jardin des Plantes in
Paris, built around 1834–1836. Photo: Steve Silverman, 2014, Creative Commons
License. For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.
zip
The grand international opening and most famous application of the ridge-and-
furrow system took place in the Crystal Palace (see Figures 1.12–1.14), which
hosted the Great Exhibition of 1951 in London. The ridge-and-furrow system
extracted the most advantageous performances from the leaky types of sealants and
gaskets available at the time. After some years, however, as the reliability of
the sealants, gaskets, glues and waterproofing components kept improving, the
ridge-and-furrow system began to fade out of favor with designers and builders, due
to its complexity (and secondarily, in retrospect, probably also due to its low thermal
efficiency, the reason of which, in turn, was that the alternation of ridges and
12 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
furrows increased the thermal loss area of the envelope without increasing the solar
gains correspondingly).
Figure 1.11. Charles Rohault de Fleury, section of the hothouses in the Jardin des
Plantes, Paris. The greenhouse section with a curved front is surprisingly similar to
that of a modern solar greenhouse. Nonetheless, these greenhouses were heated
with remote burners (from: Meyer et al. (1966))
Figure 1.12. Crystal Palace, 1851. Joseph Paxton and Decimus Burton
Basic Concepts 13
With time, the stick system ended up prevailing, evolving into the curtain-wall
stick system during the 20th century, and leaving a deep mark on the history of
architecture. Few constructional patterns in the history of modern architecture have
had more success than this one. Retrospectively, it can be said that the stick system
was tough to beat.
After the described trajectory, in the 20th century the usage of greenhouse
systems remained confined to vegetable growing for a long time, under the scrutiny
of botanists, rather than that of architects and engineers. Indeed, the glass surfaces
used by many seminal works of the Modern Movement in that period (e.g. the
Bauhaus School Building in Dessau, by Walter Gropius, and the Farnsworth House,
by Mies Van der Rohe) were derived from a “genetic” mold that was different from
the agricultural one. They were drawn from an aesthetic mold, founded on
transparency and aimed to modify the envelope surfaces by operating directly on the
inhabited rooms/spaces, rather than shaping the glazed volumes into the domain of
climatic transformation.
Figure 1.14. Construction scheme of the wall structure of the Crystal Palace
Basic Concepts 15
Figure 1.16. The Palm House in the Royal Kew Gardens, London (1841–1849).
Decimus Burton (architectural designer) and Richard Turner (technological designer).
Using a stick system, the designers brought the design principles anticipated by John
Claudius Loudon to an early peak. Photo: David Iliff, 2008, Creative Commons License.
For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
16 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
The result of those premises was that at the time of the first world energy crisis
in 1973, the greenhouse (together with the solar wall, which is its functional
relative) was already ready to be a protagonist. The significant number of
greenhouses built by architects in that period fall mainly within two typological
domains: that of the stand-alone greenhouse aimed at growing plants and that of the
lean-to greenhouse aimed at producing heat in winter for a building that it is
Basic Concepts 17
attached to. The projects of the solar Arks by the New Alchemy Institute are
outstanding examples of the high level of inventiveness attained in the
experimentations attempted in that period (see Figure 1.19).
Figure 1.18. Example of a solar greenhouse built in the first half of the 20th century
in central Europe. Serre at Château de la Grange in Yerres, Département Essonne,
France. Photo: G. Freihalter, 2017, Creative Commons License. For a color version
of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Figure 1.19. One of the several realized projects for a solar Ark by the New Alchemy
Institute of Cape Cod, Massachusetts (re-drawn on the basis of a drawing by Todd
and Todd 1984). These transparent enclosures are made of bent fiberglass sheets.
The bending of the sheets increased their rigidity, making them installable without
transoms, so as to spare material and increase the overall transparency of
the envelope. For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/
greenhouses1.zip
18 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
Figure 1.20. Lean-to solar greenhouse in Belgium. Photo: Arnes Buric, License
Pixabay, free for commercial use (modified – in luminous contrast – as required
by the license). For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/
greenhouses1.zip
Figure 1.21. Scheme of a botanical solar greenhouse equipped with solar reflectors
(in gray) positioned above and below the glazing, to increase the solar aperture.
Freely redrawn from Clegg and Watkins (1978). For a color version of this figure, see
www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Basic Concepts 19
The use of greenhouse systems during the 1980s took place in the pursuit of
thermal performance, but the quantitative disadvantage of these indirect solar gain
systems with respect to the competing direct and independent solar gain systems
soon became evident. This fact was decisive in the loss of “market shares” of solar
greenhouses, which took place in the socio-cultural western world from the 1990s
onwards.
Retrospectively, it is now possible to assert that both the earthship and the
double-envelope house were too specialized to assert themselves in ordinary design
practice: in the case of the earthship, because of the morphological and typological
constraints that it requires for establishing conductive thermal exchanges with the
soil, and in the case of the double envelope house, because of its constructional
complexity. This setback took place even though both the earthships and the double
envelope houses, thanks to their thermal exchange with the soil, proved themselves
efficient and free from the necessity of non-renewable energy inputs.
From the described situation, the cited fact followed that, in Northern and
Central Europe, after an explorative period (during the 1980s and the beginning
of the 1990s) of high confidence in the solar heating-driven performance
of greenhouses – of which the housing project by Rolf Disch3 in Figure 1.23 is a
top-quality representative – greenhouses gradually fell out of favor with
architectural designers once more.
One reason for this debacle was that solar greenhouses had been initially loaded
with excessive expectations by both designers and clients. The expectations were
excessive because the efficiency of greenhouses attached to buildings, in terms of
passive solar efficiency, cannot compete with that of specialized systems like air or
water solar collectors. A greenhouse, indeed, due to its large envelope (solar
2 In this section, and throughout this work, the word “mass” has been used to describe a heat
storage volume, rather than “mass” in its meaning from physics, that is, “density”.
3 Recent photographs of this well-preserved settlement by Rolf Disch can be found at:
https://sdg21.eu/en/city-region/freiburg-und-umland.
Basic Concepts 21
aperture and captation surface being equal) produces greater thermal losses than a
solar panel. The result is that the efficiency of an attached solar greenhouse usually
ranges between 10% and 30%, depending on the situation, while, typically, the
efficiency of a solar collector is of the order of 50% or more. This suggests that the
lever of sheer heating efficiency is not what should have been used for proselytizing
for greenhouses.
Exceptions in which the greenhouse systems are optimized for passive heating in
those contexts do exist: see, for example, the interesting BedZed housing settlement in
Sutton, London, designed by Alan Short and Associates (see Figure 1.20; Volume 4,
Figures 1.15 and 1.16); but are not prevalent. Indeed, the prevalent approach in solar
housing from the 1990s onwards has been that of direct solar gain (see, for example,
Figure 1.21).
22 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
Figure 1.24. View of the BedZed ecovillage, Sutton, London, designed by Alan
Short and Associates. Photo: PeabodyLDN, 2014, Creative Commons License.
For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Figure 1.25. Exploitation of direct solar gains in the solar housing “Platbusch” in Graz,
designed by ACEgroup 1991. Photo: ACEgroup, 2019, Creative Commons License.
For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Basic Concepts 23
In the last years, numerous experiences that have made low-cost and innovative
use of agricultural greenhouses, by integrating them with houses in several
interesting manners, have taken place, with the most interesting results perhaps
concentrated in France. The fact that the new vital signs, for greenhouses, come
once more from the agricultural sector should not surprise us, because energy and
economic efficiency are at the core of that design task.
With those signs, a new focus has emerged. Indeed, the goal of setting “special”
thermal and lighting conditions in greenhouses seems to be less and less prevalent,
increasingly substituted with that of establishing acceptable (rather than optimal)
hygro-thermal and lighting performances at a low cost; for which the construction
components of agricultural greenhouses turn out to be quite adequate most of the
time.
In the most recent waves of projects, the traditional approach subordinating the
greenhouse to the building is often turned upside-down: in those greenhouses,
indeed, the idea of the building often appears modeled on the exitance of the
greenhouse, rather than vice versa. In this framework, factory-made agricultural
construction systems (utilitarian, simple and sound) are often coupled with
dry-assembled wood or steel construction systems; the transparent enclosures are
single-layer (when made of glass) or double- or multiple-layer (when made of
polycarbonate or acrylic panels); the shading devices are constituted by low-cost
internal and external canvases, and the main ventilation openings schedule a
seasonal (not diurnal) operability, also typical of agricultural systems.
Figure 1.26. Maison Latapie, Floirac. Lacaton and Vassal (1993) (see: https://www.
lacatonvassal.com/index.php?idp=25). Photo: .pep, Creative Commons License.
For a color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
24 Design and Construction of Bioclimatic Wooden Greenhouses 1
The most well-known building among the antecedents of this trend was probably
the Maison Latapie, designed by Lacaton and Vassal in 1993 (see Figures 1.26 and
1.27). In that case, the components that were employed in the construction did not
yet belong to agricultural architecture, but derived from an attentive use of cheap
materials of industrial production, and the greenhouse constituted a context
symmetric to the house, in the reassuring semblance of a solar addition.
Figure 1.27. Maison Latapie, interior view of the greenhouse. Photo: Alan
Hasoo, Creative Commons License. For a color version of this
figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Basic Concepts 25
Two of these prominent examples will also be featured, for a more complete
analysis, see, in the last volume of this work: the House “D” in Nantes, by Xavier
Fouquet (Volume 4, section 3.3), and the bioclimatic house in Villeneuve Tolosane,
by Nycholas Eydoux (Volume 4, section 3.4).
Basic Concepts 27
Figure 1.30. Social housing in Mulhouse. In this case as well, the construction
components of the greenhouses are derived from industrial agriculture. View of a
corner of the building. Photo: Bruno Henriques, Creative Commons License. For a
color version of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Figure 1.31. House Temoin, in Laval, France, designed by Cécile Gadoin and
Anthony Morin (see: http://www.cecilegaudoin.com/index.php?/projets/maison-temoin).
Parallel views of the possible configurations. In this case, a greenhouse treated as
buffer space is put in sequence with a shaded space externally. Designers: Cécile
Gaudoin and Anthony Morin with the Groupe CIL de la Mayenne. For a color version
of this figure, see www.iste.co.uk/brunetti/greenhouses1.zip
Another random document with
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Nell’ora stessa della notte all’altra estremità del palazzo vegliava il
Duca in convegno coll’astrologo Ebreo.
La camera ove essi stavano sorgeva a guisa di torre all’angolo
orientale della Rocca, e non si poteva colà pervenire che per mezzo
di un ponte coperto e chiuso, il quale veduto dal basso s’aveva
forma d’un arco altissimo che congiungeva due parti dell’edifizio.
Quella camera conteneva ogni specie di macchine, stromenti e
arnesi ch’erano stati sino a quell’epoca inventati per segnare la
misura del tempo, e per lo studio delle sfere celesti; era insomma un
osservatorio astronomico, quale si può immaginare ginare che fosse
al principio del secolo decimoquinto; e ciò che meglio caratterizzava
il tempo e le idee erano gli utensili alchimistici che si vedevano
ovunque frammisti a quelli che unicamente servivano alle operazioni
dell’astrologia.
Fra i quadranti, i lambicchi, i cerchii, le clessidre e i gnomoni,
distinguevasi sopra larghi sostegni d’oro un ampio globo stellato e
dipinto a figure d’uomini e d’animali. Il Duca lo aveva comperato per
ingente somma da un mercante saraceno, e pretendevasi fosse il
celebre Planetario arabico, stato mandato in dono dal Califfo di
Bagdad ad Abderamo re di Granata.
Una gran lampada rifletteva la sua viva luce su quel globo, di cui gli
anni avevano alquanto annerito lo splendido azzurro. Il Duca stava
seduto in atto attentivo, tenendo fisi gli occhi sul Planetario, mentre il
vecchiardo Elìa con una verga d’ebano nella destra, toccando i segni
rappresentanti lo zodiaco, andava spiegandogli i nomi, i moti, gli
influssi delle varie costellazioni, le quali erano ripetute in un grosso
libro ch’ei sosteneva coll’altra mano.
Un colpo dato al battitojo di bronzo di quella camera fece
sospendere le parole alll’Astrologo; il Duca porse orecchio, e avendo
udito succedersi due altri tocchi leggierissimi, quindi uno più risentito
— Entra — gridò con impazienza.
La porta s’aprì, ed avanzossi un uomo pressochè interamente
avvolto nel mantello; s’accostò al Duca e gli parlò all’orecchio.
Filippo Maria ai detti di colui mostrò prima sdegnarsi, poi sogghignò
fieramente; dopo pochi istanti di secreto colloquio tra loro, fecegli un
cenno, quegli uscì, e la porta si serrò di nuovo.
Elìa era intanto rimasto immobile cogli occhi sul suo libro, nella
lettura del quale sembrava interamente assorto.
«Proseguite, maestro (disse con calma il Duca). Non parlavate voi
delle stelle che compongono la coda allo Scorpione?
«In cauda venenum» — profferì lentamente il Filosofo israelita come
se ripetesse le parole che stava leggendo; poscia alzò la testa e
divisi sulle labbra i peli della bianca barba, ritoccando colla verga sul
globo la nera figura, proseguì in sua nasale cantilena — «Quest’è il
celeste Scorpio che s’abbranca al Sagittario e colla coda percuote la
Libra. Efraim Afestolett Mammacaton ne’ precetti del decimo mese,
insegna essere tre volte sette il numero degli effetti nefasti che piove
sul mondo questo freddo animale. Esso è propizio a chi annoda
occulte trame, e attenta colpi proditorii; siccome d’indole sua penetra
nelle case e sta celato presso le coltri ove ferisce nel sonno...
«Un mostro di tal natura, uno scarabeo avvelenito in sembianza
umana, abita presso di noi (disse interrompendolo e con subitaneo
rancore Filippo Maria).
«Non vi prendete di ciò pensiero (rispose l’Ebreo); quando la sua
traccia verrà scoperta tutti si affretteranno a schiacciarlo.
«Eppure non è così. Una donna lo accoglie, lo accarezza e si lascia
da lui aizzare contro di me (replicò il Duca misteriosamente, fatto più
truce nell’aspetto). Ma essi non sanno che queste mura s’infuocano
e fanno contorcere le membra ai traditori come se fossero collocati
sopra lastre roventi.
«Le tenebre non lo terranno lungamente avvolto. Guai se lo
scellerato si palesa!
«Io li conosco già i suoi delitti: essi sono troppo gravi (profferì Filippo
con feroce freddezza). Gettate per lui le sorti, o maestro, questa
notte medesima. Domani allo svegliarmi entrerete a riferirmi ciò che
avrà prescritto il destino; rammentatevi che attendo voi pel primo.
Elìa chinò il capo in segno d’obbedienza. Il Duca alzossi; poscia ad
una sua chiamata si spalancò di nuovo la porta, ed ei ne uscì
preceduto per le scale ed i corritoi da due paggi che recavano i
doppieri.
Da quanto fu detto colà è agevole comprendere che i progetti di
Macaruffo non erano rimasti ignoti. L’intrattenersi ch’ei faceva
soventi ora con uno, ora coll’altro dei capi delle antiche bande di
Facino; il trarli seco a convegno nei battifredi più appartati del
Castello mentre mostravasi taciturno e selvatico con tutte l’altre genti
di Corte, aveva eccitati i sospetti e destata la vigilanza della turba dei
delatori del Duca. Ogni suo passo fu quindi numerato, sorvegliate
diligentemente le sue azioni.
La notte susseguente a quella in cui avvenne il colloquio da noi
riferito, il Venturiero passando meditabondo sotto il portico che dal
cortile interno della Rocca metteva all’andito della torre, sentì
afferrarsi per un braccio. Rivoltosi riconobbe Scaramuccia, valletto di
confidenza del Duca, con cui aveva stretta conoscenza militando
insieme sotto le insegne del Conte.
«Rendi grazie a’ tuoi santi protettori ch’io t’abbia ritrovato — disse
pianissimo Scaramuccia traendolo in un canto dietro le spalle
dell’arco, fuori della lista di luce che mandava la lampada. Il
Venturiero con voce aspra rispose:
«Renderei grazie sì, ma quando potessi al tuo padrone....
«Zitto, zitto (proseguì l’altro) non è tempo da far parole. Ascolta. Se
fra poche ore non sei lontano le molte miglia da queste mura tu
finirai di mala morte. Hanno girato per te la luna, il sole e le stelle: il
tuo nome sta in mano al Giudeo, e la gola del pozzo in fondo alle
vôlte fu aperta e t’aspetta. Pensa a’ tuoi casi. Addio. — Ciò detto lo
lasciò frettolosamente e scomparve nell’ombra.
Macaruffo benchè non suscettivo di timidi pensieri e omai
indifferente ad ogni sventura, non dubitò a tale inaspettato
avvertimento, che in realtà la sua morte fosse stata ordinata da
Filippo Maria, sia per avere scoperto i di lui tentativi, sia per togliere
un amico fedele alla Duchessa. Quindi non volendo cadere vittima
invendicata dell’abborrito Visconte determinò di cercare salvezza
nella fuga.
Deposta ogni arma e tramutate le vesti, presso l’albeggiare potè
uscire inosservato dal Castello. Comunque grande però fosse il suo
pericolo rimanendo in queste vicinanze, non sapeva staccarsi dai
luoghi ove l’infelice sua Signora, serbando solo i titoli e le apparenze
della sovranità, gemeva prigioniera d’un inesorabile tiranno.
Per lunghi giorni andò errando nelle terre prossime a questa città, e
la notte accostavasi guardingo alla tremenda ducale dimora, spiando
se qualche lume apparisse nelle finestre dal lato occidentale della
Rocca, e s’affisava in quello come in una luce amica, consolatrice,
poichè sembravagli illuminasse la camera della Duchessa, ch’ei si
rappresentava assisa a quel mesto chiarore in atto pensivo e col
volto irrigato di lagrime. Chi potrebbe ridire quanta fosse la potenza
che l’immagine di lei esercitava su quell’anima, chiusa in ributtanti
spoglie, ma sì nobile e generosa che avrebbe con gioja, e senza
ch’ella pure il sapesse, sagrificata l’esistenza per procurarle un
istante di contento e di pace?
Dovette però convincersi alfine Macaruffo ch’era vano ogni tentativo
per rivederla, e sarebbe stata follìa l’intraprendere di sottrarla suo
malgrado alle mani del Duca. Pensando d’altronde che se si fosse
scoperto ch’ei s’aggirava quivi d’intorno avrebbe potuto far cadere su
di lei il dubbio che per suo mezzo tramasse congiure o tradimenti, si
decise con pena indescrivibile ad abbandonare questo suolo, e
riprese cammino verso la patria.
Allorchè calando da una delle Alpi che fiancheggiano il mare di
Liguria, distinse tra il verde della valle le torri del castello di Tenda,
vide il lago de’ palombi, e poco lungi scorse tra il folto degli alberi le
merlate mura del maniero de’ Gualdi, non dolci affetti si sollevarono
in lui con soave tumulto, non esclamò, non sorrise; solo un grave
sospiro uscì dal suo petto affranto dalla fatica e dalla doglia, e
s’asciugò due amare stille di pianto che gli caddero sulle arsiccie
guancie.
Visse colà inconsolabile, solingo.
Quando nelle paterne mura ribombò con terrore e desolazione
l’orrendo annunzio che Beatrice, dannata per scellerata sentenza dal
Marito, aveva lasciata la testa sul patibolo nel castello di Binasco, il
Venturiero quivi più non si rinvenne.
Alcuni giorni dopo apparve un Pellegrino in vicinanza al castello del
supplizio, e fu veduto starsi ogni notte immobile per lunghe ore,
pregando alla ferriata della cappella dei morti, ove i resti della
Contessa erano stati deposti. Nè andò guari che chiuse gli occhi
esso pure alla vita, e nessuno scoprì mai la sua storia o il suo nome.
Un Cadavere antico [7]
FINE.
IL BACIO FATALE
....... Ei nell’amata
Donna s’affigge, ode uno squillo: il suono
Quest’è che serra le stridenti porte.
Un istante gli resta, un bacio invola
A quella fronte gelida, una croce
Alle sue mani impallidite, e come
Luce nell’aer per le mute logge
Inosservato e celere dispare.
Tealdi-Fores.
FINE.