BATTERED AT SEA

 

Serendipity calls. Two massive buildings by Giles Gilbert Scott, visited within 5 days of each other. Neither visit deliberately planned really, but what a wonderful experience.

The cathedral is stone and serving it's original purpose, (with a sideline in tourism) Battersea Power station is red brick and dramatically transformed for new uses. Such a powerful form, it really holds the whole scheme together in a way no modern structure could.

But why not? In theory there is nothing stopping someone designing a structure like this for its current mix of uses. The whimsical curves and wibbly-wobbly geometry of the new build derives much of its logic as a counterpoint to that soaring mass of masonry. On its own it would just be wishy-washy.

So it seems to me.

 

I do love my brickwork. English Bond from Battersea power station. Not load bearing as far as I know but it may be able to carry its own weight.

The main structure carrying the roof is definitely steel but how the brick cladding relates to that exactly, I'm not sure. Could be just tied back at intervals, or it could be explicitly supported on steel angles with soft joints between "storeys". I suspect the former.

Either way it's a magnificent piece of work, despite the fact that the bricklayers have strayed off quarter lap on the left hand side of the close up. Not sure why this is, doesn't seem to be case when I zoom in on the left hand pic.

Just the kind of thing you obsess about when you spent a few years working as a bricklayer. Overall design, craftsmanship and renovation strategy are all admirable. So glad I got to see this building close up on this visit.

 

Inside Battersea power station where the black metal aesthetic reigns supreme.

Bits and pieces of old industrial gear contrast nicely with the warmth of brick and the transparency of glass. Overscaled relics like this gantry crane take the edge off slick Modernism. Hasn't it always been so?

 

 

And for the "where's Wally" enthusiasts, perhaps you can spot my two grandsons racing ahead of me, despite their back packs. I only I could siphon off just one tenth of the excess energy of the younger one to top up my depleted tank 🤣🤣🤣

Five years ago I would have spent much longer walking around and taken a couple of hundred digital snaps. Well, times change and we are wise to accept our limitations and adapt our behavior.

It's still just as wonderful to be alive as ever.

 

Battersea Park to Clapham Junction. I've been really enjoying all these little railway journeys in UK. Always transported back to Victorian times. Nothing remotely similar as an experience in Dubai.

Polychrome brickwork infill below 4-ring elliptical arches. I wonder how many makeovers those "leftover" spaces have had in their eventful lives. Fascinating to see plant life still battling to get the better of human endeavour. Sprouting from every nook and cranny.

The timber fretwork fascia of the second image is so evocative of railway architecture. In silhouette here it's perfect framing for the layered composition. Layers of history in fact. An open footbridge, roofed over, then glazed in? How else to explain those blue arch-top beams.

And the office tower behind. Oddly compelling with its hint of Italian rationalism. There's so much to see in these snapshots. None of it precious. No claims to high art status. But they have a visceral appeal for me. 

A TALE OF TWO CATHEDRALS

 Woke up this morning to this view of Saltaire. Dignified worker's housing from the 1850s in a healthy countryside setting.

Small pane sash windows in the original style frame the view of houses across the street that have been "upgraded"... I think before the current heritage status was in place. All the same it works for me.

A development of this quality is robust enough to withstand a certain amount of abuse. If anything, the scars and blemishes help to tell its story. There is a fine line between maintaining a tradition and ossifying into a stale museum piece.

Saltaire offers a glimpse back in time, but it's still alive. What a privilege to be here again "in the flesh" just for a day.

 

 

Disgorged from Liverpool, Lime Street, I bumped into St George's Hall, unawares. I'm not sure what to think. It's almost as if it was assembled like a train. (let's stick on another carriage just for fun)

Then I found out it's the result of the same architect winning two different competitions and persuading the client to combine them into one building. Pevsner was full of praise, and it looked perfectly fine in the history books, so I should reserve judgment perhaps.

But first impressions say it doesn't quite hang together as a composition. The railway hotel, opposite is a little stiff and pretentious for a Waterhouse and it's relationship to the curved platform sheds, half-offset behind, most bizarre. Not helped by the glazed screen with stone arcade notched into the base at random. Presumably a result of modernisation.

Apologies to my scouse friends. I expect this little urban combo will grow on me with time. Perhaps it's the recent exposure to King's Cross / St. Pancras which sets the bar so high. Let's say I was more perplexed than disappointed as I visit Liverpool for the first time in 40 years.

 

 

Setting the clock back 55 years to an outing with my A level art group to see this outrageous pairing of religious architecture. This time with my son and grandson, who will carry their own memories into the future, no doubt.

Liverpool's two Cathedrals. Just a short walk apart. Both products of the twentieth century in all its complexity. I see huge contrasts but little by way of contradiction. Two massive statements of belief, confidently stated.

Surprisingly perhaps, there were more people in the Anglican space, with it's uplifting acoustics. Maybe it's different on a Sunday.

Chances are, my second visit to see this pair will be my last. That's OK. It was a splendid afternoon.

 

 

 

Structural expression in two different guises. "which is the most honest? " used to be the question, as if that could be assessed in these chalk and cheese cases.

Looking at them now with a lifetime of studying buildings behind me, I find them both to be remarkably bold, evocative and uncluttered.

I was expecting to like the stone better than the concrete, but now I'm not so sure. They both possess a certain magic, a religious awe to be more precise.

I'm no more of a believer than I was when I confidently called myself atheist, but there are traditions here that command respect, despite the many human failings of adherents.

I decline to ridicule Faiths that build such structures. Better to bow my head in contemplation of the human condition in the vastness of the universe.

 

 

Curvaceous clarity in two parallel universes.

Gothic arches by Giles Gilbert Scott who had a remarkable ability to be fresh, traditional and inventive all at once, The mouldings are subtly crisp and modern, almost Doric in spirit and simplicity but effortless too. I almost overlooked them.

Minimalist pews by Frederick Gibberd. Completely lacking in bravado, they simply do the job. But en-masse, the rhythmic simplicity is quite striking. But then I've only seen the space empty. In full use, perhaps they almost melt away.

Impressive clarity unites these two images despite the differences of material, function and style. Anglican and Catholic, singing from the same hymn book, now there's a story. 🎶🤔

 

 

 

 

SALAD DRESSING BLUES

 Planning to visit my good friend Daniel Hurtubise in a couple of weeks. He set up this website to make my/our "BIM pencil" work more accessible. Really cool design, thanks Dan

Each of these building models expresses a desire to understand, a thirst for knowledge, a call to action. Action research. Learning by doing.
Experimental archeology. That kind of thing.

You can download the work in 3 formats. Especially geared towards architecture students, who regularly contact me for help, but should be of interest to anyone who enjoys a deeper dive into inspiring buildings.

Completely free to download but please acknowledge the source if you reuse or share. Hopefully we will put more models up on the site soon.

If you have done similar work and would like to add it to the site, that would be great. You will be credited of course.

 

 

Walking from Covent Garden to Trafalgar square yesterday, I stumbled upon this building.

Is it a clever response to daylight envelope requirements? Or maybe just a willful exercise in whimsical form? I have no idea.

How exactly are those sloping brick walls held up? I'm guessing this is a steel frame building, and maybe a backing sheet of some kind fixed to rails.

Also the windows. What to call them - oriels, dormers? Maybe there is some kind of exemption that allows them to pierce the daylight envelope, assuming that is the motivating factor here.

Do I like it? Certainly the play of rhythms and textures is intriguing. The interplay of avant-garde with tradition is deftly pulled off. Probably I would need to know more and perhaps to see it in 50 or 100 years time, none of which is going to happen. 🙄

But it caught my eye and made me think. 🤔

 

 

This is the strangest use of Flemish bond I have ever seen.

Notice on the recessed course the end has two queen closers, the last one oversized, but still, not a full header. It seems to me they could omitted the closer and ended with a full header. This would have given them a deeper recess on the short return to match the one on the main face.

Am I missing something?

 

People watch out
People come on
Without any doubt
Something is wrong
Look to the future, forget the past
Everything's changing, at long bloody last
But are you sure, really really sure
Maybe not, (who knows anyway)

A bit obscure perhaps, but I'm trying to express my doubts about the very forceful "progressive" outlook of my younger self. Not that I have regrets, but life is more complex than the vigor of youth believes.

Maybe through music I can say something about this without sliding to the opposite end of the seesaw of life.

Written and performed in a single session staying with friends in Reading. Nothing special, but it's about the best I can do at this stage in my life, and honestly done, I hope.

 

My two favourite railway stations in the world, sitting together as a pair. So many associations, going right back to my time as a first year architecture student, just down the road.

I suppose St Pancras is my very, very favourite, but the contrast between them, in so many ways is a big part of it. Also the modern additions, again very different, but hugely successful in my view.

 

Red brick works so well for Scott's high Victorian Gothic and the yellow London stocks suit Cubitt's muted "builder's classical" Two major AEC dynasties of the era encapsulated for us in this duet across time.

I was boarding at King's Cross, heading for Barnsley, the town of my birth. It's been a few years, what with pandemics and all. I'm just drinking in all these memories and cultural associations, storing them up for when I go back to my little desert cave.

 

 

William Wilkins designed University College London, where I did my first degree. But this is another of his buildings, the National Gallery, overlooking Trafalgar Square.

The dragon scales and guilloche treatment of the dome is intriguing. Did he have a source or was this an original concept? It seems to me that most domes arise from a heavier cornice, often resting on a colonnade, whereas he prefers a smooth flow from a solid stone drum. Maybe a BIM pencil study (LOD100) of domes would be in order.

So what about that Corinthian? The deep veined Acanthus is very sinuous, again emphasising a free flow upwards from the fluting of the shaft. Closed bud hibiscus flower, quite different from Soane's interpretation.

There is so much scope for individual expression in classical architecture, but in a subtle way as opposed to the jarring clamour for novelty we often see today.

 

The famous gap between the architect and the engineer at St Pancras Station.

On the left, the luxury of a hotel bed after a long smokey journey. On the (centre) right the single huge span of Barlow's arch, protecting the hustle and bustle of railway platforms which are themselves built over brick vaults that receive barrels of beer from northern breweries to slake the endless thirst of London.

Some hold it to be a weakly handled detail. I always saw it as a colossal version of the shadow gap: clear separation, allowance for differential movement, passing unnoticed by the general public.

But what about the "far right". A window at King's Cross. Surely I can condemn that? The proportions are all wrong (the columns to thin, the entablature to plain and heavy, the arch too small)

But in context it works. It adds a certain jauntiness to the bold, stark lines of the double-arched bookend where the platforms just spill out at street level. So different to St Pancras.

The contrasts between the stations seem endless, but the interplay is wonderful. To me at least, after 55 years of visiting and admiring the grand old couple.