Why these buildings?
George Ferguson
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George Ferguson interprets the results of the Demolition poll
Bad buildings have a damaging effect on all of us but, as with badly cooked food, we tend to put up with it. The time has come, though, to name and shame those buildings and places that offend and, in some cases, impoverish our lives.
However, when I proposed the X-listing of bad buildings for demolition or radical transformation, I did not envisage a deeply embarrassing nomination on the Demolition website of the eventual winner of the RIBA’s prestigious Stirling Prize! While I believe that to be a mischievous nomination (and also a flawed Stirling Prize winner) it could emphasise the complexity of the case or simply be the joker in the pack.
No simple matter
Although the cost of the Scottish Parliament project proved to be a fiasco, it is undoubtedly a remarkable piece of architecture – or more accurately a remarkable fusion of buildings and landscape. There is a growing appreciation of its spirited design from those who have experienced it, but it attracts disdain on a variety of counts: politics, cost and context. However, it does help to emphasise the vital issue of context and the added importance of memory and respect for historic and much-loved locations.
The treatment of the building at the bottom of Edinburgh’s glorious Royal Mile does, to my mind, leave much to be desired, and has been described as ‘brutal’ by many of its critics. This ‘brutality’ is a thread woven through the Dirty Dozen, as the Demolition producers have so delicately called its top 12 nominations!
In the 1960s, the raw concrete and white painted buildings designed by the great architect Le Corbusier gave the world a new architectural language which celebrated brutalism. It heralded a brave new world and, in the Mediterranean sun, undoubtedly had its attraction: it photographed beautifully and seduced those of us looking for contemporary architectural ideas. It became an international style but was often debased in concept and detail and did not always travel well. It was particularly inappropriate in dreary northern climes.
Cold light of reality
What are the main factors that generated the public dislike for so many buildings? I remember the 1960s and '70s as fun times but it seems that the public do not see the architecture of that period as rock 'n' roll. The great majority of nominated buildings came from that period of impoverished construction, where the detail and delivery did not match the vision. This applied equally to private and public development, though many of these buildings can find a new life in the right hands.
The Park Hill estate in Sheffield is, amazingly, listed. To me, this was an indulgence and a misuse of a system that should balance aesthetic quality with historic and social significance. The estate was a relative success for a time but it should have been removed from its hillside or radically transformed long ago. Fortunately, one of the country’s bravest and most imaginative developers, Urban Splash, is willing to take it on, and will restore the public perception of it from grim, balcony-accessed flats to its original vision of streets in the sky – but occupied by a very different clientele.
Out of context
The clearest message that comes across to me of the Dirty Dozen is a dislike of buildings that are unsympathetic and out of scale with their surroundings. This famously applies to such structures as the Rugby Cement Works, that brutalist icon, Gateshead’s ‘Get Carter’ car park or, across the Tyne, Westgate House, a particularly ungainly office block in the heart of historic Newcastle.
I have a sneaking admiration for massive manufacturing plants, but few people want one on their doorstep, as the people of Rugby have. In other circumstances, though, these great industrial giants – such as the wonderful Victorian Salts, Lister’s Mills in Bradford or the tin mines adjacent to Cornish towns and villages – are essential elements in the character of the area and are looked up to as cathedrals of work.
While we can be forgiving about the buildings of the past that were devised in another architectural and political climate, we should be more rigorous about buildings where the developers, architects (where there are architects) and planners should have known better. The daft design and siting of the Bournemouth Imax is one example but there are many other such horrors, constructed in the name of public entertainment by a leisure industry that is often blind to the natural and built attractions of its surroundings, as nearly every seaside town testifies. We are already seeing some of the mistakes of the 1980s and even '90s being demolished because of a lack of forethought.
Blight of my life
Also loathed are those disused buildings that lie around for years blighting the environment and delaying regeneration. This group is represented by the empty Lodges supermarket at Holmfirth, but could equally well be an abandoned petrol filling station or factory. It is often correct to seek new uses for abandoned buildings but some are beyond hope and should be put out of their misery rather than held back in a game of planning poker, in which the local community is the certain loser.
To return to the Scottish Parliament (and poker) – this building is, as I suggested, the joker in the pack. None of the other nominated buildings have that spirited genius and craftsmanship that has been described by Stirling Prize judge, Piers Gough, as ‘poetic’. For all my misgivings about this building, I believe it is ridiculous to nominate it for demolition – but this should not deflect us from the need to swing the wrecking ball elsewhere.
The Demolition series should make us all think harder about what we are building now – and hopefully make us intolerant of the mediocre or plain ugly. It has already done a useful job in attracting public attention to some of these issues. We have no excuses now. There is some excellent new architecture but we need to raise standards everywhere and weed out the planners and developers who fail to do so.