Public Art Corner #1

This quite outstanding example of public art, is taken from Leicester's "Creative Quarter", and is I'm told, part of a children's art trail.

It's actually pretty difficult to work out what it is, hidden behind it's shield of iron railings. My initial thought was that it was the candle from Disney's Beauty and the Beast (see below with his friend the clock).

After a really thorough inspection, I deduced that it's actually a representation of a weighing scales. I love how the artist has taken something really literal, and made it opaque and undecipherable. Top class public art.

Who wants to be the Mayor of Leicester?

This post gives me a great excuse to indulge my inner school boy and repost the story of former Mayor of Leicester, Colin Hall, whose trousers fell down whilst giving a talk to a primary school. See below:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10465457

For those who don’t follow current goings on in the East Midland’s capital metropolis; on May 5th Leicester residents will be voting for their first elected mayor. Front runner is Labour’s, Sir Peter Soulsby, who recently resigned his position as MP for Leicester South to run for the job. I think this decision rather highlights how much power local government has to influence an areas development, particularly when compared to Members of Parliament. Contrary to popular belief, MP’s often have comparably, very little local input or influence. This is one of the reasons I’m broadly in favour of elected mayors, and believe it will give some much needed accountability to local politics and associated development.

From a planning perspective, the Conservative’s ‘Open Source Planning’ green paper, which forms the foundation of most Coalition Government planning policy, made a big deal about accountability for planning decisions and bemoaned that “...the vast majority of application decisions are made not by elected councillors, but by salaried officers.” I.e. by professional Town Planners and not local councillors. Stepping aside the issue of the legitimacy of decision maker, I would take issue with how accountable local councillors really are. I consider myself to be reasonably interested in politics, and obviously have a professional interest in planning. I’m vaguely aware of who my local councillor is (I’m thinking it’s an old chap in a blazer), but I have no idea who makes up my local planning committee, and these are the people who will actually make the big decisions on planning in my area.

My personal experience of dealing with Councillors on planning committees is hugely variable. Some committee members are knowledgeable, considered and balanced decision makers, a few of them are utterly clueless, whilst the vast majority of councillors will often vary between rational and irrational depending on the perceived, political ramifications. I have seen some absolutely shocking decisions made on several occasions and can therefore understand why the general public are often outraged and resentful about planning.

I do think it’s something of an irony that many of the important decisions which actually apply the planning system, are not made by planning professionals. As a consequence, people often blame the failings of the planning system when things that they don’t like happen, rather than looking at who made the decision, and why it was made (on the whole, I think there is very little understanding of the function of local government). More generally, it seems that local elections are mainly used as a way of displaying dissatisfaction with National Government, and that the performance of local councillors and controlling parties receives very little scrutiny.

My hope is that by appointing an elected Mayor, it gives everyone a point of account for what goes in an area, and leads to better local governance and yes, more accountability for planning.

Stirling and Gowan's Department of Engineering, Leicester University

Stirling and Gowan’s Engineering Building at Leicester University has been a familiar presence in much of my life. As a child, my mother studied at the University and later worked in the library, and I have vivid memories of exploring the campus, riding on lifts and searching the library basement for dusty copies of L. Frank Baum’s books. As a teenager, I studied for my A Levels at the neighbouring Wyggeston & QEI College, and overlooked the building from both my biology labs, which faced onto the “egg box” bit and the design department, which looked onto the red-brick administrative block. It was only when I went on the study architecture at university in Sheffield, that I realised that the building that I had explored in lunch hours and quietly appreciated, was of significance to anyone but myself.



On a whim, I decided to take my camera and amble over to the Leicester University campus yesterday. Strolling across Victoria Park, I took a few snaps of Denys Lasdun’s Charles Wilson Building (see above, another favourite of mine), but struggled to get a decent shot of the Engineering Department (see my rather poor effort below).









As I wander around the perimeter of the building, I’m struck initially by how dirty and poorly cared for it is. However, what quickly becomes clear is how difficult it is to get a decent view of it. Whilst partly a function of the buildings constrained site and close proximity to other buildings, you get the impression that some effort has actually been made to hide it – see the small trees that have been planted right next to it. If ever there was a building that needs to be explored and examined, it’s this one. Every view is different, and every look reveals new details and projections.









I have a theory, that our perceptions of buildings and built environment are highly influenced by the spaces and context from which we view them. When viewed from a hostile space, such as a busy road pavement, people are more likely dislike something. Conversely, buildings that can be observed in a more pleasant and contemplative environ, are far more likely to be positively received. In the case of Stirling and Gowan’s building, it is mostly viewed from a curtilage of car parks, bin stores and pre-fabricated plant sheds. I’m about to break the habit of a lifetime, but I really think that all the surrounding distractions need to be got rid of: bins, parking and in particular trees, they all need to go. It doesn’t need funky paving, granite balls or public art, it just needs some space.









There’s something of a metaphor for Leicester in here. Whenever I talk to people from Leicester about the Engineering building, they’re usually pretty negative about it. “I don’t really like it.” “It’s badly built.” “It’s falling apart.” “It’s impractical.” “It really ought to be knocked down.” Few people seem to appreciate the interesting things about Leicester, focusing rather on facilities that other provincial cities have. I suspect that the Council would see the back of many historic buildings, a semi-thriving market and every independent shop in the city, if it would get them a Pret a Manger or a Paul Smith. See also the Bowstring Bridge fiasco.















In my opinion, the best views are from the car park by the main building entrance. I generally try to avoid architectural gushing, but as I look up at the building (careful to avoid the bemused secretary reversing her Corsa), it seems to be improbably hanging above me. The strange projections seem to trick the eye; it just doesn’t look possible that the building should be able to support itself, but there it is, seemingly balanced on an all too-small base.





Steeling myself, I venture inside. Almost immediately, my plan to appear like I’m meant to be there, falls apart as I stare in confusion at the stairs. Is that a service stair? Are they doing rebuilding work? And then I get it, and start to climb the steps, sheepishly chuckling like someone who’s tried to drink the contents of a finger bowl at a Chinese restaurant. We’re meant to see all the services, how postmodern!







While I vaguely remember looking around the interior in the past, I’m still a little bit overwhelmed. If anything, the inside is even more quirky and complex than the outside. Compared to more modern buildings the lift and stair core, feels very cramped. Every floor seems to reveal new and interesting architectural incidents, some of which are slightly uncomfortable. I can’t think of the last time I felt waves of vertigo in a contemporary building!





Rather annoyingly, I can’t get really get any decent photo’s looking out, as the glass is too dirty. So I abandon my attempts to get to the top and head back down again. I feel disappointed that I’ve not taken some better pictures of the interior. In particular, a spectacular, glass roofed landing which marks the top of the the smaller half of the tower. It was occupied by group of earnest young men with beards, and not wanting to give myself away as an interloper, I resisted taking a photo. However on further reflection, I’m actually glad that I didn’t. I think the building needs to be experienced first hand, and that if you were to see too much before, it would spoil the experience.







As I trot down the final few flight of stairs, I try to sum up how I feel about the building. Words like ‘challenging’ cross my mind and then are quickly rejected. I’ve seen others describe buildings as ‘thrilling’, but never really understood this before. Lingering on one of the lower landings, I’m minded of something Will Self once said. He complained that modern air travel was too boring (yes I remember how he livened up one plane journey), and that in order to make it more exciting we needed daring pilots in winged helmets and glass bottomed planes. It seems to me that Stirling and Gowan’s building is very much like a glass bottomed aeroplane; for some it will be thrilling and exciting (myself included), whilst for others it is a rather strange experience.





As I exit the building, I’m once more depressed by the sheer crapness of this crucial arrival space. Cluttered with cars, traffic cones and brightly coloured road lines, it all points towards a building that is little loved and criminally, unappreciated. My suspicion is that it is being purposely run down in an attempt to make a case for future redevelopment (an article ran in Building Design in 2008, hinting at a partial demolition). I sincerely hope I’m wrong. I can appreciate that it is rather out of step with more modern university buildings, which are light, airy and immediate, but with a little more imagination, it could be a major feature for the University (and the City).





I do hope that my writing of this piques a few peoples interest. For anyone interested in British architecture of the 20th Century, I can only urge you to visit. It is a building that can only really be understood by experiencing it, rather than looking at it in pictures. I also suspect, that we probably won’t see it in its original form, for much longer.

Freeman's Meadow, Leicester

I had originally intended to post these pictures at Christmas to give the blog a bit of a seasonal feel. However, the fact that we actually had snow, lying right across the UK for the whole festive period, rather kerbed my enthusiasm.





Freeman’s Meadow is one of those schemes that I’d been seeing in brochures and regeneration publications for some time, but hadn’t got round to visiting, despite being pretty close to my home. Located on a former industrial, brown-field site, close to the centre of Leicester and adjacent to the River Soar, it’s an archetypal regeneration, come “urban renaissance” project. While it’s easy to be sniffy about this kind of thing, in the context of Leicester, I do thing the regeneration of this part of the city has been welcome, in particular opening up access and development to the River Soar which has been hidden and enclosed by crumbling industrial uses. I’ve always felt that Leicester turns it’s back on the River, and am pleased to see this being reversed (albeit fairly slowly).

Hence, having finished work for Christmas 2009, I decided to drop by for a visit on my way home. And that’s when it started snowing...





In truth I was rather underwhelmed, but somewhat typically, didn’t actually get round to writing something caustic, as I had originally intended. Given that some months later the scheme was entered for the East Midlands section of the UK Landscape Awards 2010 (http://www.uklandscapeaward.org/), of which I was a judge, this probably wasn’t a bad thing. Whilst not amongst the winners, it was commended and after further consideration, I think correctly so. I later went on to judge the English entries to the awards and it was noticeable that the great majority of schemes submitted were either strategic, or rural/coastal landscape restoration schemes. Very few were urban based or involved actual implementation of designs, which I found telling.

OK, so I admit that I have rather conflicting feelings about this, but here goes:

Architecturally, I don’t think it’s going to be getting too many people that excited. However, I do think that as a form, the squat apartment blocks set amongst gardens, is a very appropriate treatment for it’s urban location in Leicester. Certainly a lot more so, than the overgrown brick boxes, arranged in cul-de-sacs, that predominate the surrounding Bede Island area. I also think that they are likely to be more appealing to people, than the city centre flats above, car parks, shopping malls and takeaways, that are currently lying unoccupied across the city (and indeed the country).





From a landscape perspective, it’s very positive that so much effort has been expended on the external spaces and this is why the scheme has been recognised with an award. The materials are high quality and frequently bespoke in nature. The design, by my former colleagues at Capita Lovejoy, is both tasteful and very well detailed. However...

... as a designer, a purist, and a pedant, I do think there are issues with the design. Whilst the bleak midwinter is probably not the best time to look at most schemes, my feeling is that the spaces probably won’t be used much. I find them rather disconnected from the surrounding buildings. This really goes to the heart of why I write this blog; my belief that landscape architecture is about more than providing a pretty setting for buildings, that it has actual and tangible function in it’s own right. Unfortunately, I’m just not sure that this scheme really is much more than an attractive setting for the buildings. :(





I think cars and how they are accommodated is a big issue for this kind of housing development. My abiding memory of visiting Freeman’s Meadow, was that there were cars everywhere. It’s something of a paradox, that if you don’t make adequate provision for cars (mainly by providing parking spaces), they end up dominating the street scene. From a design perspective, I think the ideal is underground parking (as seen at Greenwich Millennium Village), but this is often prohibitively expensive for most projects.

Conversely, I think that roads and in particular, the provision of fire and service access, are too often the overriding consideration in the design of external spaces. One of the things I like about shared spaces is that you can have access to buildings for fire and servicing, but you aren’t left with a mean, bisected space adjacent to the buildings, for pedestrians. I think this problem is well illustrated here, as residents have to negotiate a line of car parking, a road and then another line of car parking, if they want to get from their front door to the central space or the playground.



For all it’s faults, my opinions of Freeman’s Meadows and other developments of it’s ilk, are mellowing. I’m unsure what the next few years will bring in terms of urban redevelopments, but I suspect we could end up looking back with wistful affection on this sort of scheme.