Revitalization of the Barbu Drugă Estate in Cetate: Build memory, equestrian program and temporary housing in a Danube landscape

Authors’ Comment

There are places that do not lose their identity through abandonment, but preserve it in the traces that remain and in the way their buildings continue to settle within the landscape. In the context of the need to revitalize rural ensembles, interventions on existing buildings become a means of preserving the memory of a place while adapting it to contemporary functions.

The Barbu Drugă Estate in Cetate, Dolj County, lies on the edge of the Danube, within a rural landscape shaped by agricultural fields and riparian vegetation. The estate preserves traces of a world once connected to the administration of the land, while the former grain mill recalls the period when the site had a productive role. The existing buildings remain as witnesses to the past, preserving in their materiality the traces of time and the transformations the estate has undergone. The intervention begins with the analysis of a fragmented rural estate and proposes its revitalization through an equestrian and hospitality programme.

The concept is rooted in the idea of the traveller’s dwelling, an intermediate space between departure and arrival, where a pause becomes a temporary form of belonging. The ensemble is conceived as a woven fabric: each path represents a thread, each function occupies its place within this composition, and their encounter forms a coherent order. Visitors, horses, and staff follow distinct routes, supporting the functioning of the ensemble without conflicting overlaps.

The entire sequence unfolds between stability, movement, and pause. The manor house represents the first sequence of the project and the social landmark of the estate, being restored and transformed into a jockey club. The equestrian centre forms the active core of the ensemble and is organized between the area for rest and sheltering the horses and the training area. The existing ancillary buildings are adapted to the requirements of the equestrian programme, while the circulation routes of the animals are separated from those of the visitors. To the south, the training area comprises an indoor arena, designed with a timber structure, and an outdoor arena with tiered seating, intended for training sessions, competitions, and demonstrations.

The route reaches the former grain mill, the final stage and the main conversion intervention. The building preserves the massive expression of traditional brick mills and the verticality of its former productive function, becoming a place of pause where the traveller extends their stay. The intervention proposes the consolidation of the building, the restoration of the timber floor structures, and the preservation of recoverable structural elements. Along the side facing the arenas, the traces of the demolished levels remain down to the ground floor. This absence becomes the starting point: the structural walls are preserved as a shell of the vanished volume, while a new timber structure, composed of columns and beams on two levels, is inserted within it. The insertion suggests the return of the demolished volume, reinterpreted through a new material language, while the preserved elements remain as witnesses to the past.

The interior organization makes use of the existing structure of the mill, establishing relationships between the reception, social, and accommodation spaces. The ground floor brings together the reception and lobby, followed by the restaurant and café, with views towards the equestrian area. Due to the limited available space, and in order to preserve as much area as possible for the functions themselves, circulation to the rooms is concentrated within a two-level walkway located in the new intervention volume. It connects the common spaces to the accommodation rooms and organizes the route towards them, with views towards the estate.

Thus, the traveller’s dwelling is not merely a place of pause. It is the fragile interval between departure and arrival, where one no longer simply passes through a place, but begins, for a while, to belong to it. Perhaps this is the true measure of a place: not how long you remain, but how much of it you carry with you when you leave.