There once was an ugly duckling

Walking down Borough Road towards London Bridge station on my now weekly journey back home from university, I noticed yet again the heaving behemoth that is the 'Walkie Talkie' building otherwise known as 20 Fenchurch Street. A new resident to the London horizon and a bullish one at that, the building certainly forces it's presence towards its context but is it for the right reasons?

Assessing my opinion that the Walkie Talkie building is now obviously the most disappointing building in the city, it got me wondering what the equal example of a building might be in Croydon. There are the obvious first choices such as sad looking pubs and forgotten bingo halls, but these are far too obvious and although they may appear ugly by modern standards they are in reality rich in local history and the birth place of many friendships and conversations.

Equally, some of Croydon's contemporary building stock could easily be called ugly and oppressive against the historic mix of existing buildings, but the truth is that these are simply poorly considered and a victim of rushed design and construction. Instead I found the answer to my question within Exchange Square, coming from a building that is less of a building and more of a monster. Sitting uncomfortably beside the historic Pump House, a wonderfully considered Victorian brick building designed to celebrate the internal machinery, is what can only be described as a GRP (glass reinforced plastic) clad tumor. 

The story behind the birth of this monster goes that the machinery once housed in the original Pump House become oversized and outdated and that the same job could be done by smaller and more reliable equipment. Being that the original Pump House was an historic building, the decision was then taken to construct a smaller housing outside the building for the new equipment, leading to the green menace that we are confronted with today.

It can be safely argued that there was no inspiration, no consideration and certainly no aesthetics when this hut was designed, one can tell this just by taking a quick walk around it. Even the very placement of this hut is disrespectful, orientated at a completely different angle to the two adjacent buildings the hut disects the space unsympathetically, creating an unwanted spectacle of itself, the Quasimodo of Exchange Square.

I understand that the presence and impact of such a small aspect of the urban environment could easily be ignored, no matter how insulting it is to the eyes, but then this attitude would only allow for a worsening of the situation. Whether designing the latest shopping development or a simple housing for industrial machinery it is important to consider the local influence and presence created by the building. The act of dumping a building, like that of the Pump House tumor, into reality like a child disregarding a toy is a dangerous game, and in the modern world we live in this can happen all too easily. It must be understood that the damage made in this situation is immediate and rectifying the situation is more than difficult.

tW

Let's Pallet

We have all been there at the front, surrounded by other curious ears, beer in hand, plastic cup, warm content and a friend of a friends band taking the stage. The genre may differ and so too may the colour of the overly enthusiastic girls hair but one thing always remains the same, and that is the vacant semi-circle in front of the performing act. Those invisible protecting arms.

I was part of a punk-rock band back in my years at college and before that I had been attempting to make music with close friends. Gigs we went to on a grander scale at the Astoria or Brixton Academy had no problem with filling every space the crowd could fit into, and that sweaty close quarters feeling was something to be weirdly cherished. However, the smaller scale local gigs always carried with them that recognisable void at the front of the crowd, that reassuring cautious barrier between the unknown source of noise and oneself.

Architecturally, this void is a fascinating space, and a rare example of a visually and physically empty space that is somehow full of anticipation. I imagine a preacher standing on a podium in a public square back in the sixteenth century would have created a similar feeling as a brave speech about opinions of the state and crown was delivered, a crowd gathering before him cautious of his speculations.

In the context of my life I somewhat recently found myself in just this kind of situation, well in what would have been the aforementioned kind of situation if it were not for a group of rogue timber pallets. It was the launch of a Kickstarter campaign for Turf Projects, an arts collective in South London, and I found myself in the large black painted stage space at the rear of Matthews Yard in Croydon. Now what would normally have been the void space in this scenario, comfortably situated somewhere between the growing crowd and the projection wall was a layered plinth constructed of timber pallets.

The pallets, covered in artificial turf created a very inviting seating platform and without encouragement sections of the crowd introduced themselves to this setup and in some instances merged half standing and half seated to create a transition between two spaces. So from the simple idea of a glorified projector table came the birth of a social bridge. By quite honestly placing a disordered and playful object in between a regimented crowd and a wall, the function of a fountain in a town square found almost anywhere in Europe had been created in the back room of a cafe in Croydon.

A mixture of spacial awareness and order seems to be the catalyst that create these small instances of 'non-physical architecture' such as the gig scenario or any queue you may find yourself in, but what is quite clearly as interesting is the next dimension of rebel architecture to this invisible governor such as that of the pallets.

tW

Matthews Yard, The Last Craftsman

I walk into Matthew’s Yard from the biting October cold with my cycling hat still firmly in place, a habit I have enforced upon myself since my girlfriend made it perfectly clear that it made me look like an idiot, but I love it so the hat stays. Tea bought and a seat found, I finally remove the hat and nervously open my sketchbook. As well as the architecture blog, this is another fragment of my life that I have neglected over the last six months and, as a result, have forced myself recently to correct that failing.

It also turns out that I have not been back to Matthew’s Yard since the bustling grand opening back in April, and although the general layout remains roughly the same as when I last saw it, all the animated and distinctive character that I got a glimpse of on that night has now thoroughly embedded itself within the internal space. Sitting comfortably in the large cafe space one can observe straight away that by making both resourceful and aesthetic use of materials at their simplest form the tactile experience of Matthew’s Yard has been made to feel very homely. By resisting the urge to completely clad every wall, and paint every soffit, the building’s age and beauty is allowed to intertwine with the fresh furniture and industrial fittings that have been employed throughout the space.

The bar is undoubtedly the golden lamp in the room, a vast ten metre pleasantly crafted wooden mass that stands as a foundation for the many pieces of equipment that steam, bang and hiss as they produce their many cups of coffee and other delights. To further add to the character of the bar is the fact that it was cut and erected on site, by hand, by one man. This kind of dedication to a single element of a new build is a rare thing to witness, especially with so many interior design products being available so easily and quickly that with just a few clicks of a mouse or pages turned of a catalogue you can fit out almost any space. However, inside Matthew's Yard you discover the opposite, finding yourself constantly entertained by the delights of such honest things as industrial light fittings, chalkboards and stripped timber flooring, all reminders of the many hands and minds who helped craft this space into what it is, a community hub.

For Matthew’s Yard, however, this kind of dedication and cooperation is not only built firmly into the architecture, but is all part and parcel of the overall operation. At almost any time of the day one can observe people from all walks of life who spend their time organising or socialising within the spaces that Matthew’s Yard has to offer, whether it is someone emailing their friends in far off places or a book club meeting. Being what could be the friendliest 'big' space in Croydon, people appear to treat this establishment as their second home. The precedent Matthew's Yard has set for rejuvenating disused spaces within Croydon is unparalleled, and clearly the straightforward idea of combining a relaxing social environment with a flexible working space has been wonderfully achieved. So surely more projects similar to this can and should begin to appear throughout Croydon, are not the urban and social benefits distinctly evident?

I am sure the lone worker who constructed the wooden bar had no idea about the important social and physical example he was laying down that day, but the fruits of his labour are clear to see and I can only hope it continues to influence the internal space and the new, inspired community that seems to be growing around it everyday.


tW

Baskets for Hanging

Last Friday, after receiving an email inviting me to public consultation of Croydon's Old Town I found myself in a little known area of town just off of Surrey St Market known as Matthews Yard. A few balloons, flags on string and a selection of large question and answer post-it-note boards indicated I was at the right location, but as is the primary draw back of this space the paths down to it are pinch points off of Surrey St Market too narrow and over-shadowed, an issue I will come back to later.

Nonetheless I was excited to see what urban formulas were anticipated for the future both by the local planning department and the local community, and I was not to be disappointed. As is required these days I grabbed myself a black coffee, choosing not to take a saucer, and got stuck right in to deciphering the comments and suggestions from the local residents about how to improve the reputation and aesthetic of Croydon's old Town. By now I had clearly observed that I was by far the youngest attendee at the event with the remainder mostly constructed of the older generation of market stall owners and retired local residents, however this was an issue I had expected and so I committed early on in the day to extracting the most out of this situation.

A quick glance over the suggestion boards, and I had a clear indication of what I was going to be battling against, the dreaded Hanging Basket. Much loved by the older generation of almost any British town the hanging basket is a classic solution to nothing, I fully understand the appeal by which it provides colour and nature to its surrounding but that is where the improvement ends, and of course councils latch on to the idea like a mad scientist going about hanging baskets off any over-hang they can lay their hands on. In my books, and I will be brutally honest, the hanging basket is simply a filler idea for the weak and lost and an idea that is passable only in conjunction with other changes. If real progress is to be achieved it is surely by way of bolder ideas of an original nature that are both encouraged and understood, one has only to look at the work of such young practices as VisionDivision (Stockholm) and ZED Factory (London) to see the beautiful potential in urban futures.

For a cultural centre to succeed at Matthews Yard and Croydon on a wider context the local planning department and residents are going to have to accept ideas and suggestions from a younger generation who experience, fuel and understand spaces of Croydon that the older generation do not, but first they must honestly listen. Then a real connection and comprehension can be achieved, decisions can be made sensibly and contextually and ideas such as hanging baskets off of walls can be limited to a scale that is appropriate. The youth of Croydon should not be afraid to say what they believe and the older generation should not be fearful of hearing it.

tW