Andrew Kay: At home
Growing up, as I did, in Lancashire, gave me a very low outlook on life. No, not low in that sense, but low in an architectural sense. Life for me was pretty much a two-storey affair. Even in my local town, few buildings rose above three floors and, if they did, we thought they were pretty exciting.
Now I live in Brighton, and although some of it rises to three storeys and more, with a few high rises dating back to the 1960s, it is still all on a rather nice, comfy, domestic level. I like that. It’s what I have become used to.
Between Lancashire and Brighton I lived in London – and I loved it. They were exciting times, filled with adventure … and with misadventure, too. I broke my wrist tripping on the doorstep of the Hermes shop on Bond Street and yes, I’d had a drink. Thank heavens for that, as it dulled the pain.
“Giant cavities have appeared, and in many of them vast concrete stumps have arisen like the pegs used to secure dental implants”
Visits to London now are fewer and further between. So much so that from one visit to the next I am amazed at the massive changes that I see. Minutes from Victoria station, the landscape is barely recognisable. Much of what I once knew is now flattened and the capital looks like a gaping, toothless maw. Everywhere, giant cavities have appeared, and in many of them vast concrete stumps have arisen like the pegs used to secure dental implants, or at least that is what they suggest to me.
Around the gaping holes are high hoardings, sometimes with peepholes to afford passers-by a look at the building’s progress. Often the hoardings sport wildly futuristic computer generated projections of what the finished project will look like. The city of the future, that was once an image gleaned form the covers of science fiction novels, has now become a thing of the present.
And what architecture! The outlandish, ‘who can wee highest up the wall’ presence of The Shard, giddyingly high; The Gherkin in a bawdier hand might not have been named after a deli delicacy; the sliced silliness of City Hall. Architects seem keen on making visual jokes these days – all of which to my mind make that wonderfully forward seeing Stock Exchange look better by the moment. London is beginning to look like a scene from The Jetsons, and not in a particularly good way.
Fortunately, amongst these horrors are some successes. The Tate Modern works incredibly well, and the monumental architecture has been beautifully balanced by strands of silver birch that shimmer in the London light. Changes in traffic systems have made Trafalgar Square a safe place to visit, too, and the splendour of the huge classical architecture has been given breathing space, although I take issue with HRH Prince Charles who lauded the extension to The National Gallery when it opened, whilst condemning most modernsim as being a carbuncle on the face of the city. I think this lame building is the carbuncle; neither old nor new, just … well, just dull!
I suppose all this is what we call progress, but it doesn’t half make you feel old. Last week I had to take a train up to the smoke. I waited until the fares dropped in price, and then took a train filled with tourists and shoppers rather than commuters. I used to commute, and it’s not a way of life I would want to return to.
It was a fast train that hurtled through the countryside, stopping only at Haywards Heath, Gatwick, East Croydon, Clapham Junction and finally Victoria. And to be fair, a few people did get on and off at those stops. It was on time too, and had enough carriages to afford seats to those of us who had paid to travel. Yes, your ticket only gives you the right to travel and not to a seat, which we found out that night on our return when there were only four carriages and far too many bums for seats.
As usual, I digress. After passing through the oddly redeveloped Clapham Junction, the train passed through Battersea where it slid between the power station and the Marco Polo … but no, where has the Marco Polo building gone? That icon of neo-classicism, built when I was a student! Gone, to reveal another gaping cavity in the capital’s jaw.
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