These last few weeks I have been visiting a lot of crematoria. What I noticed is the genuine care and attention of everyone I’ve met, from the office teams to the Chapel Attendant, to the people working around the back.
I’ve also being paying attention to the architecture. Where I grew up, the local crem was somewhere we sometimes had to go, an unassuming building, a bit austere perhaps. Despite the sadness of the occasion, and often laughter (I heard the best joke ever at my uncle’s funeral), I would be drawn to the surrounding woodland where I played for hours as a child, disappearing into its soft smells and crunch of leaves.
There are some 334 crematoria across the United Kingdom, with the majority in England. As buildings, people don’t really talk about them. As far as I can find, there is only one serious exploration of the architecture of crematoria, written by Hilary J Grainger in 2006.
In it, she makes some interesting observations about form and function, and unlike churches or some other civic buildings, there is no clear precedent. ‘The local crem’ is a relatively new thing in our society, emerging in the late 19th century as a formalised process of ‘disposal’. Not very comforting when thought of in those terms, despite the ancient rites associated with such things as funeral pyres that still exist in some cultures around the world. The Victorians reshaped our uncomfortable relationship with death, and crematoria reflect some of that ambiguity.
Often neutral, particularly those designed and built post war, and many influenced by a post-modern aesthetic, they need to do many things at once, as inconspicuously as possible. Grainger points out that architects must resolve the seen and the unseen, the calm formality of procession and service, to the technical stuff out the back.
The choreography of the mourners, from arrival up the drive, often through sweeping woodland, to the entrance and exits, must all happen in one smooth movement.
These buildings also need to hold contradictory emotional roles, offering comfort, dignity and calm, while avoiding obvious reminders of loss.
Two I have visited recently are Reading Crematorium, in Caversham, and the Chilterns Crematorium in Amersham. Built some 20 to 30 years apart, Reading (1932) draws on a renaissance style, with the proportions and aesthetic that leans towards Art Deco. While the Chilterns first building was constructed during the major building programmes in the 1950s and 1960s. A large picture window looks out to extensive planting, while the structures low sweeping lines and sense of light sits naturally within a hillside woodland.
Both now have two chapels, one large and one small, plus a memorial flower chapel where families can visit.
These are dignified and reflective spaces, cared for by people with a deep understanding of looking after those often in their darkest moments.