Modular

The idea of modular design in both architecture and furniture has been around for a great deal of time, influencing the way we interact with space and the efficiency to which we use it. As a child there is an early opportunity of being introduced to modular design in the form of toys such as Lego or Jenga. These tactile toys provide modification and repetition that helps establish in a child's development that the constants of a smaller modular element can be augmented together to form a larger and perhaps more complicated form of related proportions. Then as time passes the toy blocks we played with as a child scale up alongside us to be the very bricks that build the houses we find ourselves living in as adults.

Architecture has arguably held a fascination with modular design since the first primitive shelter was ever erected, when the thought naturally accord as to how to make the process more efficient. Less leaves, more sticks, a rigid frame. Centuries on and the effects that global warming is evidently creating has in recent years generated a surge of efficient, and more importantly economic, modular design for disaster relief situations around the world, providing a new international revival in the search for the ideal modular structure.

However, although disaster relief is clearly where modular design could be most usefully implemented the idea is notoriously being fostered and bastardised in such places as China and India, where the need to build humongous and with haste is everywhere to be witnessed through social media or otherwise. So it was with excitement that I finally took the time to analysis a modular clad building that I have passed for many years, that is found living in the shadow of its close neighbour, no.1 Croydon.

To gaze at this building briefly from one of the windows of the many trams, busses or cars that pass around the East Croydon area, you would not be alone in arriving at the quick decision that 22 Addiscombe Road is just another poor architectural example from possibly the 1970's. The ASBO concrete jacket and rigid form could easily excuse 22 Addiscombe Road for camouflaging beautifully into the many other examples of such offices that exist within Croydon. However, to stand underneath the mass of this building and perhaps even feel the reptile like cladding is to gain an enlightened understanding of the aesthetic trying to be encouraged here.

The modular cladding component takes on the form of what is essentially a giant arrow, stacked together like a fraternity, pointing this way and that in a subconscious attempt to direct nearby vehicular movement. The facade is not limited to a singular plane though, and the modular cladding carries with it both a tactile and physical plane. The arrows grind in and out of the building facade, playing with shadow and the transfer of the buildings silhouette onto the horizon. The tough finish of the concrete offering the building a sculptural solidarity that is scarcely seen in most modern architecture.

Many new developments in Croydon such as the recent Saffron Square, have fantastic aspirations for social spaces and urban massing, but still lack a certain presence regardless of their heaviness. This idea of presence could be learnt from reticent existing examples such as 22 Addiscombe Road, where the cladding quite literally reaches out to you and provokes the surrounding space. Hopefully in the future modern developments will be seen that create external skins that connect with their local context, almost as if offering an architectural handshake.

tW

Beneath the Concrete Beast

Venturing around and between the heights and subways of Croydon you can find many vibrant social spaces where you can do almost anything from enjoying the simple pleasure of a warm cup of coffee to playing a game of chess, yet there are some spaces that are so dramatic in scale they seem to blur into the surrounding urban landscape. Quite often these spaces do not appear to play a leading role in our everyday lives simply because their functions are not as pronounced as their counterparts, but performing what is without question a humble role these spaces are both important and beautiful.

Surprisingly, car parks are frequently good examples of such spaces and the Wandle Road Car park located underneath the Croydon Flyover is Croydon's very own. Drive to this space, park your car in this space and make your way into Croydon like most people and chances are you will not notice the enormous environment that is actually surrounding you. However, go during the middle of the day when the cars sit static like a multi-coloured metallic carpet and you can really appreciate the full majesty of the space that exists here. Simultaneously carrying vehicles above and sheltering them below, to perform the former function that is essentially suspending an entire section of road off the ground takes a considerable amount of engineering and material, and what you end up with is a huge raw concrete roof elevated by equally huge concrete columns at visually satisfying regular intervals. Yet to be in this space is to be swallowed up by the mass and shadows that the form presents and in a strange way this in itself creates a comforting feeling like the security of an older brother.

Whilst I happened to be in the belly of the car park I made sure to do the usual architecture student stuff such as kicking surfaces and shouting for echoes to both test the merit of the structure and reinforce the usefulness of my education, the ticket warden stared intently probably through fear more than curiosity but I ignored him and continued my sensual assault on the structure. This soon lead me to conclude that although functioning rather successfully as a car park there is surely a better use for such a large and dramatic space, and if the the town is to rid its parenting of the term 'Croydonisation' then redefining spaces such as the Wandle road Car park as urban social and/or cultural spaces may very well be a positive starting point.

An outdoor cinema/theatre, brewery, open-air restaurant or even a space for car-boot sales, this space would become so much more excitable and useful if it held one of these functions instead of just being car storage, a place of abandonment. Although thinking about it a park would be a fantastic addition in this dense urban area, providing a link between urban Croydon and the greenery of Duppas Hill, with the height of the flyover allowing more than enough light to pass underneath this relatively quiet area located away from the hustle and bustle of the High Street could really benefit from such a refashioning. There is no reason why a rigid concrete car park cannot become a fresh green space or exciting temporary cinema in the summer months, all that is required is the belief and the understanding that these changes may just improve our experience of the town we live in. So when the time is right I applaud you to go stand in the strange comfort of this car park beneath the concrete beast, and join me in quietly imagining an alternative future.

tW

YOURCODENAMEIS:IYLO

If you happen to glance over the platforms at West Croydon station you will notice a piece of fairly contemporary architecture, discarded by modern economics and politics, a relic of its own time, the IYLO building.

Cemented in the company of the residential void between Croydon and Selhurst in the middle of what is essentially a roundabout this hollow concrete shell of a structure nestles quietly among the columns of terraced housing that permeate outwards in all directions. Having asked a few people about the building in general I was informed by a friend that the developers funding the IYLO project had begun construction, laying the foundations and erecting almost the entire core concrete structure only to find themselves bankrupt and unable to commit to finishing the project, leaving the architecture veiled by an incomplete glass curtain wall that gives an immense ghostly presence over the surrounding area.

In a move away from other high-rise residential developments in Croydon at the time IYLO was located away from the area around East Croydon, which consists of existing buildings with functions and aesthetics like that of the IYLO, choosing instead a plot of vacant land further north along Wellesley Rd amongst houses and schools. As with the majority of modern developments of this scale the ground floor was essentially outlined for retail purposes, coffee shops and delicatessens presumably to fuel the anticipated upper-middle class residents, with the floors vertically beyond that assigned to a high-rise style of living. The basic principals enforced to create this style of development are solid, discover land not being utilised, build upwards to make full use of the space and maintain community connection at ground level by use of public space and commercial property. But it just seems too simple, too text book even? This urban formula, if it can be called that, can be applied to any style of development anywhere in the UK and this is where the idea falls short. The local context and environment needs to be considered in far greater detail than is often the case, and the fact that more housing is required and precedent exists for the programme model does not simply mean this solution can, and should be applied ubiquitously.

Now the lifeless grey mass of a structure that slouches sadly against the Wellesley Rd today, and which has done so for long over a year now, acts a message to the local community and more importantly the community of Croydon that at the heart of many of these 'modern' developments is a method and scale of construction that is outdated and damaging. That said, I do hope that the IYLO project is eventually adopted and completed in the near future as its continued existence as a skeleton of a building will only damage the urban grain further. Lessons can and have to be learnt from the mistakes made at the IYLO project, especially mistakes that would have been forgotten had the project not been cut short like it was. Should we not at least consider the restoration and improvement of neglected existing housing stock, structurally sound and already integrated into the urban grain, rather than continually venturing into bold new plans?

tW

Croydon and the Postmodern 3

Almost as if life-long brothers, one can argue that Iconography and Architecture have walked hand-in-hand for as long as the art of building a roof over ones head has existed, or ever since we left our hunter-gatherer characteristics and learnt to manage the growth of crops. It appears our human desire to indicate certain aspects of culture through the use of architecture is deeply and richly embedded within all corners of human history, effortlessly continuing into the twenty-first century.

London's everyday architectural icons such as the Gherkin (30 St. Mary Axe, Swiss RE Building) or the Shard (32 London Bridge) are well recognised not only in London but internationally, and due to this the design of such architecture can shy away somewhat from the pure function of the building and concentrate on the form and final presence that the architecture gives to the city as an icon. So considering Croydon's significance as the business and transport hub of South London it is unsurprising that like modern London Croydon too has its very own architectural icon, the Fifty-Pence-Piece Building ( No.1 Croydon / Threepenny Bit Building).

The fractured pod-like architecture of the Fifty-Pence-Piece Building sits on its urban throne at the top of East Croydon, but with its moat of transport infrastructure for added defence it can seem rather unwelcoming and difficult to access at first but is well worth the additional adventure. Once underneath you can gaze up at the seemingly countless concrete cantilevers that seem to defy gravity, yet at the same time be absorbed by how ultimately light-weight the structure somehow appears to be, undoubtedly an amazing aesthetic achievement. Unbelievably the heavy concrete floor slabs are wonderfully defied by the apparent external gap between the corner columns, which in such a simple and imperceptible way allow the structure to appear increasingly lighter than it truly is. Without question a talent that most corporate architecture in Croydon could certainly learn from.

I fortunately had the great privilege around two years ago to visit the upper-most floor of No.1 Croydon during an Open House tour that I had attended, operating within the room at the time was the display and marketing for the master-plan of East Croydon depicting colourful and festive futures filled with farmers markets and apartment balconies hoping to generate a better Croydon. However, as I looked out of the window over the vast urban field, looking at the Warehouse theatre and pondering what might happen to this piece of history in the planned Utopian future, I could not help but feel I was already standing in the best space in Croydon.

tW