"Radical retention" sounds like a contradiction. Radical implies transformation, tabula rasa, fundamental change, a challenge to convention, overturning accepted norms. Retention, by contrast, implies preservation, continuity, holding on to what already exists. One appears progressive, the other looks back.
So often the measure of ambition is tied to demolition, clearance and reinvention, with new buildings seen as symbols of innovation while existing buildings are constraints to overcome. Yet perhaps this apparent contradiction lies at the heart of architecture's most urgent challenge.
If architecture is ultimately concerned with people, culture and place, then we should be asking a different, more profound question: What if the most radical thing we can do is not build something new, but to recognise the value of what is already there?
The climate crisis has forced us to reconsider the value of existing buildings and the carbon consequences of replacement. Similarly, in conservation circles, value is linked to established heritage criteria. But the case for retention extends beyond both.
At Morris+Company, we approach each project with a more profound proposition: “what can we keep?” Not because everything should be saved, or as an exercise in nostalgia. This emerges from a belief that there is inherent value in the found condition: of materials, labour, craft, memory, culture, effort, time. They are qualities one might consider to be 'embodied'.
The accumulated traces of previous generations, layers of occupation, adaptation and reinvention. The scars, imperfections and fragments all reveal how places have evolved over time. Together they create a richness that cannot be replicated by building new. Our approach embraces these contrasts: old and new, repair and insertion, conservation and invention – and are for us, key junctures where the architect's hand becomes most apparent; where contemporary interventions enter into dialogue with inherited fabric.
This is what we mean by ‘radical retention’. It is not an argument for preserving everything, but a philosophy of careful judgement. A process of identifying what matters, and using design to unlock the latent potential within what already exists.
At 15 Norton Folgate, this meant celebrating elements that others may have regarded as expendable. Broken shopfront pilasters were painstakingly visibly repaired and recast. Long-defunct washhouse chimneys were retained and absorbed into the new architecture. A crumbling party wall, destined for demolition, was repaired, stitched together and left as a patchwork of old and new, carrying the story of the site into its next chapter. These were not acts of preservation for preservation's sake. They were acts of transformation and retention, using the inherited fabric as raw material for something entirely contemporary.
At 3 Sheldon Square, the challenge was altogether different. There was no historic landmark to conserve. Instead, the radical act lay in resisting wholesale replacement. By retaining the majority of the structure and targeting interventions with surgical precision, the building was reimagined not erased. New balconies introduced a fresh architectural language, while the existing asset was extended, upgraded and repositioned through a process of adaptation rather than demolition.
What unites these projects is not their appearance, scale or age. It is a shared belief that retrofit should begin with a radical focus on existing value before making decisions about change.
The cities we cherish today are not the result of a single vision imposed at one moment in time. Their character emerges from centuries of additions, alterations and reinventions. Their richness lies precisely in the coexistence of different eras, attitudes and forms of making.
So if we are serious about creating meaningful, resilient and distinctive places, we need to broaden the conversation around retrofit. Its purpose is not simply to preserve bricks and mortar or reduce carbon emissions, important though both are. It is also a means to protect cultural identity, collective memory and the intangible qualities that make places feel authentic.
Perhaps that is the real provocation of ‘radical retention’. The truly radical act is recognising value in what exists and working with it rather than against it. Thus, the future of our cities may depend less on what we choose to erase and build new, and more on what we have the imagination to keep.