Notes from the Aevum site

When we first walked through the Pombaline townhouse that would become Hotel Aevum, the most striking feature was a single interior wall on the second floor — a hand-painted plaster surface, probably from the original 1860s build, depicting a pale botanical pattern in soft greens and ochres. Most of it had been damaged over the decades. Sections were missing entirely. But about sixty percent of the original surface was still intact.

Our clients fell in love with it on the first visit. Everyone did.

Three options

The question was what to do with it. The conservation specialists we consulted gave us three options. We could restore it completely — recreating the missing sections based on the surviving pattern, returning the wall to something close to its original appearance. We could conserve only what survived — stabilizing the existing fragments and leaving the gaps visible. Or we could remove it entirely, document it, and replace it with new plaster.

We sat with the question for almost two months. The hotel programme was running on a tight schedule. Construction on the rest of the building continued around the wall, which we left untouched while we decided.

Choosing the middle path

So the eye can see, clearly, where the original ends and the new begins.

In the end, the clients chose the middle option. The wall was conserved in place, fragments visible against new lime plaster filling the gaps. The new plaster is matched to the original in texture but deliberately not in pattern — so the eye can see, clearly, where the original ends and the new begins.

The room it sits in is the largest guest suite in the hotel. Guests who book it are sent a short note about the wall when they confirm their reservation. About half of them write back asking us questions.

What it cost, what it gave

The decision added four months to the project timeline and a significant amount to the cost. Looking back, it was the right call. The hotel's identity, in some quiet way, now sits on that wall.