Graphic Journey Blog

Tribal Dress

At the recommendation of a friend, I watched the documentary ‘Objectified’ on Vimeo. It’s about the world of product design and the philosophy of some of the leaders in the field. With the documentary made in 2011, the array of cutting-edge products featured are already looking dated. Creating a timeless classic is an elusive thing. It made me realise that even with talk of designing for longevity and saving the planet, most of the designers existed as instruments for their clients – in exchange for their investments, the clients wanted ever newer stuff to sell. Many of the designers were quick to defend their position.

Jonathan Ive

Apple’s original Head of Design, Jonathan Ive, who had a closely shaven head and a toned body encased in a tight-fitting grey T-shirt, eulogised about the wonderful detailing of Apple products and their passion to stamp out waste during the production process. And there can be no doubt that Apple products are beautifully engineered and designed. But there was no talk about the relentless pursuit of selling new replacement versions of their iPhones, laptops and watches. We are expected to upgrade yearly, tossing away what is in itself a marvel of manufacturing technology and ingenuity. 

Dieter Rams, less

This is in direct contrast with the view of German designer Dieter Rams, who believes that well-designed products should last a lifetime. This has been proven by the longevity of Rams’ own 606 Vitsœ shelving system design in the 1960s, which is still in production and does last forever. The irony is that the iPhone has had many more design decisions made during its complex creation, but it has become a yearly throwaway fashion item with inbuilt obsolescence – a shocking indictment of 21st-century design. 

One half of the concept for a revolutionary toothbrush.

On the topic of longevity, ‘Objectified’ features a brainstorming session where a group of excitable, young, T-shirted designers, armed with Magic Markers and Post-it notes, had gathered in the London offices of design consultancy Ideo to ‘redefine the toothbrush’ – how it could be made more sustainable, how to reduce plastic waste, etc. After a morning of intense discussion, enthusiasm and a wall covered in multi-coloured messages and drawings, they came up with the earth-shattering idea of a detachable brush head.

This was followed by much CAD drawing, and 3D model making and construction to end up with an uncomfortable marriage of a Scandinavian-style wood-stemmed spoon handle fused onto a plastic toothbrush head. It looks pretty clumsy, and I don’t recall ever seeing it on sale, so perhaps the whole thing was staged to highlight an example of ‘design thinking’ in action. Better to have suggested bamboo toothbrushes with eco-friendly, plant-based bristles (below) – job done. 

But thank goodness there were great examples of design longevity from two masters: Dieter Rams and Naoto Fukasawa. But my attention was diverted from what the product designers designed to what they were wearing. I have written in the past about the political class and their sartorial choices, in particular the inmates of the House of Lords (link at the end), but I digress – let’s stick to the ‘design tribe’ and their dress code.

I live in Clerkenwell: an area in London with a high percentage of architectural firms. Looking out of my studio window at lunchtime, I witness a steady stream of young, ethnically diverse architects, all clad in regulation black. It’s amazing and consistent across most architectural firms.

Just four of many key architects who favour black

But then again there are always detractors. 

Richard Rogers green is the colour.

such as Richard Rogers, with his love of apple-green, collarless shirts, combined with lapis lazuli slacks, or his partner Mike Davies, whose mode of dress is entirely devoted to the colour red.

Mike Davies, the man in red. 

I am assuming that it’s not just a surface thing and am imagining that he wears red Y-fronts – actually, I don’t want to imagine that. The doyen of contemporary interiors, Terence Conran, is more conservative, but he has consistently favoured Klein Blue shirts to stamp his brand colour.

Terence Conran in his signature Klein Blue shirt.

Artists originally wore smocks to protect their clothing, and many industries spawned practical and protective industrial clothing.

Henri Matisse in a fetching brown artist smock.

In the 1940s and 50s commercial artists wore them like Abram Games.

The US railroad workers’ dungarees and jacket and the French farmworkers’ jacket are classical, hard-wearing and practical items that found their way into the hearts of many designers, the only difference being that they wear a tighter-fitting, restyled version that costs ten times as much as you would pay in authentic hardware stores. And these 21st-century incarnations never see oil, grease or grime.

The classic US Oshkosh denim workwear jacket

The classic French farmworkers jacket for a few euros.

The 21st-century French farmworkers jacket inspired fashion item at £250.

Graphic designer, Chip Kidd seems to be channelling the 1950s British TV character Billy Bunter (below).

Graphic designer, Ken Garland with his signature colourful embroidered rimless cap. 

Graphic designer, Vim Crowell in his futuristic outfit.

Massimo and Lella Vignelli created their own roomy outfits for themselves and staff.

Frank Lloyd Wright favoured a cape and a low-crowned hat.

Le Corbusier's glasses resurfaced in the 1980s to become an essential fashion statement for well know graphic designers of the period. 

The minimalist John Pawson perfectly complimenting his work (below)

Back in 1987 when I was running my old company, Carroll, Dempsey & Thirkell, one of my young assistants ruined a brand new, and rather expensive, white shirt while using a Rotring ink pen. This was before everything was produced in the hygienic digital world and Cow Gum, paints, inks and scalpels were the norm, along with the occasional bloody accident while brandishing the latter. The ink-stained white shirt set me thinking that perhaps we should have some kind of protection.

This photo was taken by the late Terry O'Neill (top left) for Elle magazine. It shows the shortlisted studio 'work jackets' worn by a range of creatives, that's me top right with hair! I'd commissioned students of the St Martin's School of Art fashion department back in in 1988. The winner was Julie Philipson (bottom left) waring her winning jacket and the one adopted by CDT Design.

I set up a little competition with the fashion students at St Martin’s. My brief to them was to create a modern-day smock or jacket suitable for a design group. The image (above) was the result, and we all wore them for several years until one by one they disappeared, along with the Cow Gum, inks, scalpels and parallel motion boards. But my thinking was for entirely practical reasons, and, yes, I wanted the clothes to look good too, but they were led by function. But back to my view about designers’ dress codes. In ‘Objectified’, there was a distinct contrast between the various designers’ sartorial choices. It was interesting to see how their dress reflected their work.

A perfect example of this is designer Karim Rashid. As you can see from the picture above, it smacks of “I am a designer”, and the work to smacks of “I have been designed” and typical of Americans’ pushy hutzpah.

Contrast this with the Japanese designer Naoto Fukasawa, whose dress sense is very low key and

Naoto Fukasawa another low key dresser.

Fukasawa's rice bowl. Sublime simplicity.

directly relates to the simplicity of his design for Muji, along with the modesty of most Japanese people – unless you happen to be under 18, where anything goes. I feel a little guilty at not talking more about the work of the product designers in the documentary, but most of it was very familiar to me, but not so much the designers themselves, so I viewed it through a different lens and it became far more interesting to look beyond their work. 

Anish Kappor and Ai Weiwei keep things neutral.

Back in the ’80s and ’90s, as a company, Carroll, Dempsey & Thirkell donated some of its profits to the arts: we sponsored the shows of Anish Kapoor Tate and a Cindy Sherman show at the Whitechapel. At the private viewings, we mixed with sponsors, artists, gallery owners, friends and curators, and you could divide these by their dress codes. At each of the private viewings, the curators were kitted out in Issey Miyake or Dolce & Gabbana. The artists were very unobtrusive. The gallery owners would be in soberly cut, well-tailored suits with a flash of colour in the sock department or a choice Georgina von Etzdorf tie or scarf loosely worn around their necks, just to show that they were a little edgier than their city broker friends. But things changed when Grayson Perry appeared on the scene.

Grayson Perry and an example of his ceramic work below.

Having been in the world of design since the early ’60s, I have seen and been through many fashion iterations. Looking back at photographs, most of these trends reflected the times, but, viewed now, they are highly embarrassing. I always find it amusing and a little sad when you see major, and not so major, rock stars and groups from the ’70s permanently stuck in a fashion time warp.

The Rolling Stones in a fashion time warp.

Elton John

Boy George

Adam Ant inspired the doyens of haute couture

The ever-changing David Bowie.

The Rolling Stones, with their spiky mullets and bandanas, along with their ageing frames squeezed into leather trousers and cowboy boots, resemble a geriatric coach party heading to a ’70s-themed event. Only David Bowie seemed to cleverly surf over that fashion trap by constantly evolving.

But fashion is just another industry driven by the big retailers, like Philip Green, who spews out affordable fashion items made in chicken-coup-style factories in the Far East to maximise profits, pay himself enormous sums and bank the rest in low-tax countries. And on the topic of the fashion industry, there can be no doubt that it is the place for the most excessive use of visual self-expression, especially in the lofty world of haute couture fashion. Surrounded by adoring customers and A-listers from all quarters, fashion designers presenting their new seasons of wares are celebrated with adulation and camera flashes. 

Douglas Fairbanks seems to be the source of both the pop and fashion world look.

John 'Look at me' Galliano

Two that stand out for me are John Galliano, with his swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks look singling him out as ‘the designer’ (just in case), and Karl Lagerfeld, with his stiff shirt collars like a neck brace, white makeup, sunglasses and Michael Jackson black leather gloves, along with a ponytail.

Black-clad Karl Lagerfeld who was convinced that he was 'the only one'.

 And some of the women from the world of fashion Zandra Rhodes and Betty Jackson. The former wants to inhabit every colour in the rainbow and the latter sticks to black and white.

Rainbow Zandra Rhodes

Betty Jackson stays classic.

Alexander McQueen left his creations to speak for him.

The likes of Galliano and Largerfield are in direct contrast to Alexander McQueen, who mostly favoured a T-shirt and let his work be the visual event.  I have been around long enough to have seen fashions come around and go around several times over and looking ridiculous. These days I view extreme fashion shifts with gentle amusement.

Some more of my fashion observations can be found in the following links:

Send in the clowns

Dedicated followers of fashion

Jelly mould politics

RDInsights: In conversation

Listen to them all HERE

A sense of place: Morag Myerscough

The Movement Cafe, 25 years in the making.

The Royal Designer and artist Morag Myerscough's convoluted, 25-year journey to the creation of her now well known tempory structures is a fascinating one. I recorded this RDInsights interview with her just before Christmas.
Listen to it here:

Japan jottings: A designer's paradise

I first visited Japan three years ago. I was entranced by everything about it. For a designer, it is an inspiration. So, when the opportunity arose again, there was only one answer: when can we go?

The delightful ANA flight attendants

I'm very lucky that I have a Japanese daughter-in-law, Chieko – my own guide and demystifier of all things Japanese. From the moment we boarded the ANA flight to Tokyo at Heathrow, Japan started. Welcoming us aboard the aircraft, the immaculately turned-out air hostesses, with hair tied back into tight buns, gentle smiles and hands clasped in front of them, bowed and say “Konnichiwa”. As if by magic, you are 40,000 feet up in the air, heading east, leaving the brashness of London behind and speeding towards the land of the rising sun.

I am breaking down my jottings under simple headings.

The people
Their beauty, politeness, grace and consideration for others are striking. They don't raise their voices; if they have a cold, they wear a mask; and at stations, passengers queue on marked platform lines, not the free-for-all that we have in the UK. Tipping in Japan is considered demeaning, so that's a little issue you don't have to fret over. In Japanese stores, you receive the best service I have ever experienced. You're not hounded, but the staff are there when you need them, always with utter politeness. Plus you never enter a house without first removing your shoes. In the UK and most other countries, no one seems to care about what is being brought into the house on their shoes, and people are happy to let their toddlers crawl around on their hands and knees. This devotion to cleanliness starts at school where pupils sweep and clean their classrooms at the end of the day. Try that in the UK and there would be instant litigation. So, very quickly, you are totting up the brownie points when comparing Japan with life in the UK.

The navy blue office outfit worn by thousands of women everyday.

What is also striking is that there is a strict dress code for corporate office workers: dark-coloured suits, always with a tie for the men. Women wear neat black close-fitting jackets and skirts, along with crisp white blouses and low-heeled black shoes.

 Japanese employees wear their uniforms with great pride.

And from railway workers to refuge collectors, there are specific uniforms – always worn with pride and neatly turned out. Many of the utility, delivery and food outlets favour American-style workwear brandishing patched logos. And the police look like US cops.

And it all starts at school with 'Ginza' school uniforms based on early naval and military dress.

Meanwhile, the schoolgirls wear tartan kilts, white button-down Oxford cotton shirts, knee-length socks and penny loafers. Others wear the more-traditional sailor-style tops. They can be seen everywhere chatting, laughing and stopping at the many colourful street market ice cream or sweet stalls.

Food & drink
This is one of the most important things in Japanese life: everyone takes it very seriously.

Food, conversation and togetherness are an essential part of Japanese life.

And in Hirokazu Kore-eda delightful film Our Little Sister food was a central theme.

The preparation and presentation are art forms in their own right. The table quickly fills with small bowls of various foods, a great deal of which is fish based and raw or marinated. And depending on the kind of establishment, you could be sitting on cushions on the floor or at an equally low table with a cut-out well below to put your legs. Now, I have to come clean here: I have been a vegetarian since the age of seven, and that includes most fish, so all that beautifully prepared and presented food was completely wasted on me. On both visits, I struggled, and unless you are a Buddhist monk, you won't find much vegetarian food around. Beer is the norm to accompany food, followed by sake. The Japanese office workers tend to endure long days and after work, they populate the many bars and restaurants to unwind, drinking and eating till late, often falling asleep on the metro home.

Architecture
What is immediately striking is the sheer density of the buildings in the city, spilling out into the endless suburbs. The land is very expensive; consequently, the living space is far less than we have in the UK. Apparently, the life of a building in Japan is around 20 to 30 years. Historic temples are the exception, but everything else is up for grabs on the planning front, and it all looks rather uncontrolled and chaotic.

If you can't build horizontally then go vertical. In Japan anything seems possible, even on a stamp size plot like this one in Tokyo, designed by Tsutomu Matsuno and Kumi Aizawa. 

Many clean lined, modernist pieces of architecture use cast concrete as the material of choice, as in this shop in Kyoto. But they often echo the traditional elements of older buildings, as the one below.

Above: one of the tea rooms at the  Daisen-In Zen Buddhist temple in Kyoto. Timeless beauty and simplicity. 

A typical new build, and rather bland looking house in Kyoto.

Many international architects have cut their teeth on initially designing buildings for Japan because there is less hassle in getting innovative concepts through planning, with many modernist examples dotted all over Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto, the three cities I visited while there. Once you travel into the suburbs, the roads become extremely narrow, with houses and flats rubbing shoulders amidst a tangle of overhead cables and train crossings. And there seem to be Coca-Cola vending machines on every street corner. You look around and you've been metamorphosed into a Studio Ghibli animated film as laughing school kids with backpacks and cyclists holding umbrellas pass by.

A typical suburban street in Osaka

Traditional Japanese architecture has always been a key inspiration for many of the most renowned international architects, both past and present. And when you visit the many temples and tea houses, you are struck by their utter simplicity: exquisitely crafted with a timeless look and feel, they are a wonder of construction and perfection.

Kengo Kuma's design for the Nezu Museum in Tokyo

The Japanese have also had their brutalist architectural moments, as here with this sinister looking building in Kyoto. Cast concrete is still the favoured material for many Japanese architects.

Key Japanese architects include the great Tadao Ando and Kengo Kuma. Kuma designed the Nezu Museum in Tokyo, and is a beautiful example of honouring the Japanese tradition in a contemporary manner.

Windows in traditional Japanese buildings are all about the view, as here at Daisen-In Zen Buddhist temple in Murasakino ,Kyoto.

Gardens
Most people have seen the great gardens of Kyoto. Monty Don had a wonderful BBC series recently. But in reality, they are breathtaking: exquisite examples of painstaking planning, work and constant maintenance to create perfection that looks totally natural.

Azaleas in bloom lead the way to the gardens at Nezu Museum in Kyoto.

Above just a tiny sampling of the Imperial Palace gardens in Kyoto.

My grandaughter Yoko at the Imperial Palace.

The placing of everything in a Japanese garden is about the balance of the elements in order to create a mini landscape of contemplation. What is a delight is how the heritage of classic Japanese garden design continues in every little scrap of land in a domestic setting.

No matter how small, Japanese gardens adhere to tradition.

Even shops.

My daughter in laws parent's garden in Osaka.

It is frowned upon if you don't maintain your garden within the accepted rules. And the Japanese are an obedient race and really do adhere to the rules. But there is no doubt that they love their gardens, and the cherry blossom season and the golden hues of the fall are national outings for thousands of Japanese people.

Fashion
This is a very interesting mix of things. On the one level, traditional clothes are still very evident, especially with women. But the influence of the Americans following their occupation from 1945 until 1952 was significant. Baseball, basketball and golf all became adopted by the Japanese, and all the classic workwear described earlier is a staple for factory and utility staff. Everyday wear for men is clearly derived from the Ivy League and American sportswear look, which continues to this day. But the wearing of kimonos is still an everyday sight.

Along with modern jazz, young Japanese men in the 1960s fell in love with the American style known as 'Ivy League'.

 The style in Japan continues to this day with a companies like Beams (the above jacket available at £158), Muji and Uniqlo still following the  America look.

What a great look on this older guy.

Me on a train observing a group of traditionally dressed Japanese women.

Some garages are too small to house the small cars.

Cars/transport
I'm no petrolhead, but I have always had an interest in cars. As living space is, by necessity, very small, so too are the cars. I was amazed by the number of small Japanese cars that I'd never seen in the West – some were very cute-looking, while some of the larger vehicles were unbelievably ugly.

Japanese cars can be extremely ugly...

... and some incredibly cute.

And the trucks are pretty special.

And outside of Holland, I have never seen so many bicycles. Disconcertingly, they are allowed to cycle on the pavement, so it's a little hazardous for pedestrians.

Bikes are everywhere, including on the pavement.

The transport system is fast, super clean, air-conditioned and very punctual.

Top: Railway cleaners bow to customers after finishing their task, and below station staff thank their passengers for using the service. Can you imagine that happening on London Underground? 

And in addition to their famous high-speed bullet trains, they have the monorail system whizzing around the place. And where else in the world would the railroad staff bow to you when you leave the station? In Japan they do, and it is a delight.

Television
From what very little I watched, the TV seemed pretty dire, with many garish game shows with the screen filled up with multi-coloured Japanese typography. The news is delivered by the usual male/female duo but without the phoney banter, and it tends to be rather formal. But I didn't watch enough to determine if there were any more-esoteric stations.

Graphics
This is where the Japanese score high. Airport and railway signage is minimal and beautifully clear.

Above: examples of air and platform signage, rail maps and street totems

And they have always been masters of the pictogram. Wherever possible, they slip in charmingly witty logos, which they have a particular passion for.

This is the logo for a major courier company. The Japanese have a liking for cute animals and these types of logos are everywhere.

Beautiful tradition repeat pattern designs are used on containers.

These little hanging sheets are called a Noren. They can be seen outside shops, restaurants and houses. I loved them so much, that on my last trip to Japan, I hand one made for my home.

It says 'Come in'.

A very nice minimal poster on a bus shelter.

Even the graffiti is minimal and orderly, in the trendy Daikanyama area, with this space Invader tiled addition. 

Print production is particularly good, and paper is something that they have special expertise in. And if you are looking for books on graphic design, then there is no better place than Tsutaya bookstore in Daikanyama in Tokyo – it is the most wonderful store, stocked with everything under the sun.

Below is a beautiful giveaway leaflet that I picked up in the Tokyo Midtown shopping mall. i

A beautifully understated piece of graphics promoting a range of craft based designers, showing their work at Tokyo Midtown.  

A photograph from a series called 'Artisans' by Takuo Itayama, who had a show on in Tokyo.

This exquisite hand carved and painted traditional mask demonstrates the innate skill of Japanese craftspeople.

Music
In the UK, most coffee shops and restaurants insist on pumping out head-thumping rock or rap, making it impossible to have a civilised conversation without shouting. In similar outlets in Japan, it's a diet of calm, laid-back modern jazz – it's everywhere. Since the mid-1950s, the Japanese have had a love affair with modern jazz, and it is the perfect backdrop.

J-Pop group Tokyo Girls' Style.

On the pop front, there is J-pop, consisting of groups of very young Barbie-like girls dancing and singing hyper-cute songs in pink outfits against multi-colour fantasy sets. There are also metal and rap groups, if that takes your fancy, along with the usual music acts from the West. And there are many top-notch classical musicians and film composers like the great Ryuichi Sakamoto.

Safety
They say that Japan's only crime problem is too many police and not enough criminals.

They have these little shop like police stations dotted around the city, with a gallery of wanted photos and missing people.

What a luxury. Despite a 127 million population, the crime rate is very low, and there is a collective awareness of people’s safety. In bars, coffee shops and restaurants, baskets are provided to place your bags in so that they don't make contact with the dirty floor. The basket is placed at the side of the table. In the UK, this act would trigger a ready-made takeaway for thieves. Not in Japan. People leave their iPhones and laptops on the table when going to the loo. If a bag or wallet is lost in the street, it is highly likely that it will be handed into the local police station. As I write this, there have been four fatal stabbings in London – a form of attack that has escalated, with over 100 cases since January. The number of recorded crimes in Japan continues to decrease to a level unseen in the post-war period. That isn't to say there isn’t a darker side to Japan – there is – but according to Japanese government statistics, the arrest and conviction rate is extremely high. Japan is clearly a male-dominated society, and even though there is supposed to be increasing equality, women still earn salaries 27% below their male counterparts. And there is a lot of sexual abuse perpetrated on women, especially on crowded trains, so much so that there are now female-only carriages. So not all is wine and roses. But there is no doubt that Japan is one of the safest countries to visit, so they must be doing something right.

The future
What strikes you about Japan is, well, it's so Japanese. They have the ability to absorb things from other cultures without being overwhelmed and continue to maintain their unique character and culture. I can recall as a teenager that the view of the Japanese was that they were a nation of plagiarists. Not so. The Japanese have an uncanny ability to spot a product with flaws and improve it. Motorcycles are a classic example. During the ’40s and ’50s, Britain was a world leader in the manufacture of motorcycles. In the 1960s, the Japanese looked at our bikes and thought: a kick-start, that's crazy! They added a key turning system to solve that little issue. The idea was poo-pooed by the British – a big mistake. Very quickly, a range of motorcycles emanated from Japan, well made, reliable and cheaper, so our motorcycle industry was decimated. The Japanese went on to replicate this in improvements to cameras, electronics, trains and cars and have exceeded in innovation in all those areas and many new ones. But there is one area that may have a profound effect on the future of Japanese culture. It is an ageing population, and the birth rate has dramatically dropped. This means that there will be issues in many employment areas in the near future. Currently, only 1.99% of the population are foreigners. It will be necessary to attract far more from outside to settle in Japan. This will undoubtedly bring customs and cultures that could disrupt Japan's unique order of things. And much of what I have described in this post that makes Japan so unique and delightful could fade. I sincerely hope not.

We finally speed off back to Tokyo airport on the immaculately clean, air conditioned and punctual monorail. 

The phrase ' You could eat off the floor' comes to mind.

And finally, not to end on a bum note...
If you have never had the TOTO loo experience, you are in for a treat.

An array of possibilities for your visit to the smallest room.

Japanese loo seats are heated, and when you have finished your business, there are a series of sprays to clean your bottom, followed by a warm air dryer. It is absolute bliss, and with a book to read, you could camp out all day away from the heat and bustle.

And then suddenly, I'm back it London, in the mist of rush hour on a hot, overcrowded tube. The magic is over - until the next time, Sayōnara.

 

Books, books, books: I love them

London studio where books are always close by.

I was recently ask to contribute to the always fascinating It's Nice That website.

They wanted me to share books that have a special meaning to me. You can find out what they are here.

Hipsterville: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

On one of my regular walks, I opted to head towards Hoxton, know as 'hipsterville' and one of the creative quarters of London. My route started from my base in Clerkenwell in an easterly direction

Three new buildings close to Hoxton, all wanting to be noticed.

Meandering my way there I came upon a particular grouping of astonishingly ugly new buildings. It is another example of the developer's habit of tracking the creative community, responsible for single-handedly rehabilitated often depressed neglected areas, and in doing so they are the makers of their own demise. It happened to Clerkenwell and Borough over the past two or three decades. Hoxton, in addition to its creative community, has seen Cross Rail contributing to the arrival of many estate agents there to hike up property prices and reap their profits.

And yet more added to Silicon Roundabout .

Though the inevitable escalating rents, we will once again see the departure of the very people responsible for invigorating these places by making them so appealing in the first place with their coffee shops, alternative stores, bookshops and gallery spaces.

In the heart of Hoxton all buzzing with of interest.

Amazingly I have worked in central London since 1960. Back then there was still bomb damage from WW2. I watched the many hurriedly built ubiquitous glass office blocks going up, especially surrounding St Pauls, close to where I was working at the time.

1960's office development surrounding St Paul's.

I also watched those same office blocks demolished in the 1990s. When I scan the London skyline today I am astonished how ugly it is becoming. It seems like some kind of 'mine's not only bigger than yours but a different shape', it's so depressing.

London's increasingly cluttered skyline.

Architects and their egos know no bounds, and whether you like it or not, we have to endure the sight of their handy work for many, many decades. Thank God that there are still some that have the sensitivity to understand how people want to use a building and how they need to feel inside. 

This image epitomises how modern developments oppress precious pieces of our history.

At its very best architecture can be an uplifting and emotional experience, but it can also be a harsh and alienating one. 

Tate St Ives: Profound or piffling?

 

Patrick Heron's show in the new extension.

While I’m very happy for Tate St Ives on winning the Art Fund Museum of the Year 2018, I have to take exception to the view that the gallery has a ‘profound’ effect on visitors (as reported on BBC's 'Front Row') – the exhibits perhaps, but not the building.

It doesn’t have that effect on me. I have never liked the clumsy architecture. 

On arrival, the exterior of the place, no matter which way you approach it, is downright ugly. Once you have negotiated the clumsy stairs, you arrive at a drab-looking amphitheatre, for no apparent reason that I can see, other than echoing the original footprint of the gasometer from its previous life.

But it is the perfect place for drunks to urinate in. The actual entrance doors are unwelcoming and mean. Once inside, you do have the delight of Patrick Heron’s Matisse-like stained-glass window.

After which, you become aware of the internal detailing: a kind of cross between Rennie Mackintosh and dreadful postmodern fussiness. 

The new gallery extension itself is big and airy, as a gallery space should be, but nothing more, and it is certainly not ‘profound’. 

When you compare the architecture of Tate St Ives with the work of the brilliant Japanese architect Tadao Ando, you will understand what I mean. If you have ever visited one of his creations, you will indeed find it ‘profound’.

Above Tadao Ando's Benesse House Museum opened in 1992. And below the Punta della Dogana Centre of Contemporary Art in Venice.

The Punta della Dogana Centre of Contemporary Art in Venice is a good place to start: it is a breathtaking space. 

Architecture: Living in the past

Dorset's grandest Waitrose in Poundbury, Dorset.

I have been living in Dorset since the late 1980’s. Ten miles north of my home is the town of Dorchester, famed for the great novelist Thomas Hardy and also the birth of trade unionism, with those six Tolpuddle Martyrs arrested on trumped-up charges and marched to the town to await trial in 1834 and their eventual deportation to Australia. 

Another less significant event but with some impact started 24 years ago. Just a few miles west of Dorchester, the first houses of a new development appeared. It’s called Poundbury: the brainchild of future monarch Prince Charles and originally master-planned by the urban theorist and planner Léon Krier in the 1980s. With a cohort of ardent neoclassical architects (Quinlan and Francis Terry, James Gorst, John Simpson and Ben Pentreath) on board, the planned project is 50% completed. In the not-too-distant future, Poundbury will, I feel sure, dwarf the main town in size. 

Variations of residences.

It is the realisation of Prince Charles’s particular take on architecture, and the resulting development is loved and loathed in equal measures. This model town consists of 35% social housing; is apparently designed as a sustainable development (including being carbon-neutral); and sits proudly facing Maiden Castle, a historic Iron Age hill fort. 

Over the years, I have followed Poundbury’s progress with interest. Every six months or so, I drive around its ever-expanding streets to look at vistas new. The place is now filled with every conceivable variation on 17th-, 18th- and 19th-century faux architectural styles, from Scottish baronial villas to Palladian mansions and from flint-clad cottages to miniature icing pink Gothic castles. More recently, Victorian ‘Shad Thames’-style warehouses have appeared, along with white-rendered Rennie Mackintosh facsimiles. Think of Sir Clough Williams-Ellis’s creation Portmeirion in Wales, built between 1925 and 1975 in the style of an Italian village (made famous in the TV series ‘The Prisoner’), and you’ll get the picture.

The genesis of Poundbury, Sir Clough Williams-Ellis’s Portmeirion in Wales created in 1925.

Another inspiration, Seaside in Miami USA built in 1982 designed by Andres Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk.

Two images of Thamestown in Shanghai, China built in 2006.

It is the kind of model town replica that you find in gated communities in the US (Seaside in Miami was an early inspiration) or elsewhere, such as Thamestown in Shanghai, created in 2006 to give Chinese visitors a little piece of cobblestoned Tudor England, without having to leave their country. 

Some variations in Poundbury's homes.

Dorset’s Poundbury has been described by the Ray-Ban-sunglasses-wearing architectural writer Jonathan Meades as a “cottagey slum” and a “Thomas Hardy theme park for slow learners”. He doesn’t mince words, that Mr Meades. But I feel sure that the young/old fogey Jacob Rees-Mogg would feel very much at home here amid the Hunter-wellies-wearing, Labrador-walking, Farrow & Ball inhabitants.

I was firmly against the notion of a pastiche town: Dorset’s own Disneyland. But while there are downsides (and I’ll come to those a little later), there are many things that I actually like. As I toured around last week, I was struck by the clever organic flow of the place and the juxtaposition of sizes and styles that rub together in a rather pleasing way. There are increasingly more focal points that help to lead you to central areas. The roads are wide and there are no yellow parking restriction lines to be found anywhere. Signage is kept to a minimum and the shops have discreet branding. The building materials used are a myriad of variations of real Portland and reconstituted stone, flint, and varieties of every conceivable brick colour and texture; some houses have blocked out windows to replicate the window tax era of the 17th–19th centuries. There is a great deal of painted fibreglass too, aping decorative cast iron. Standing in the middle of it all, you could be forgiven for imagining that you were on a Hollywood backlot. It is all clever movie-production-style fakery. 

The first buildings that went up in Poundbury back in the ’90s lacked finesse, with details rather too chunky, like mean-sized windows with overly chunky glassing bars. Many of those early dwellings are now showing signs of wear and tear in this fairly high up and exposed part of Dorset. But as the development has evolved, newer architects have appeared on the scene with keener eyes for detail. One of these is Ben Pentreath: a neoclassicist but with a modern twist, rather like his hero, the late interior designer David Hicks. Pentreath trained at the Prince of Wales’s Institute of Architecture, going on to work a five-year stint in New York and then with the Prince’s Foundation. So, it’s no surprise that he is well immersed in helping to realise this later phase of development of Poundbury with many other like-minded practitioners.

One of Ben Pentreath's creations in Poundbury.

But if you look outside of this regal utopia at the many smaller developments dotted around Dorset, you will find either miserable little redbrick boxes akin to the old TV soap ‘Brookside’ slapped up by Wimpey or Barratt Homes for maximum profit for minimum effort or equally small local-stone-built affairs to approximate a regional feel.

This is the typical alternatively new builds to Poundbury. Grim little boxes.

Zero design aesthetic. Minimum effort for maximum profit. These are to be found from John O' Groats to Land's End.

But all are mean-spirited and soulless. What remains tugs on the coattails of Prince Charles’s ‘Little England’ view of the world. There is not one notable contemporary development of merit. So, I guess if I had to make a choice between the incredibly depressing Brookside boxes or the Poundbury film set, I’d choose the latter. No, I wouldn’t: I’d keep looking. But it sums up the depressing state of 21st-century British domestic architecture.

What saddens me is that had the Poundbury idea been put in the hands of a group of really exciting contemporary architects, with a real interest in developing new thinking in domestic architecture, it could have been fantastic. You’ll find an example of what I mean in Harlow, Essex, in a scheme designed by architect Alison Brooks.

Alison Brooks Architects new builds in Harlow in Essex.

She has taken her inspiration for the old black-tarred wooden Essex barns for her affordable housing scheme. Architects like her, Stanton Williams, Studio Partington and Hamson Barron Smith, along with a bunch of Scandinavian and Japanese architects, create modern, people-centred homes, rather than the egotistical ‘trophy building’ lot, who are screwing up London’s skyline at every turn.

Above a range of domestic home designs from the UK, Europe, US and Japan showing the alternative possibilities to living in the past.

While I’m at it, back in Dorchester, there is a so-called ‘contemporary’ development being built on the site of the old Eldridge Pope brewery. But cutting-edge modernism it ain’t: it is altogether mundane and extremely disappointing in appearance and is another lost architectural opportunity for the county. 

Above part of Dorchester's very disappointing architectural design for Brewery Square development.

What amuses me most about Poundbury is that is at its heart and at the highest point of the centre of the town is a Waitrose – no way could it have been a Lidl. It started its life as a ‘little Waitrose’, but last year it expanded to three times its original size, packed to the hilt with Duchy produce in every aisle and with its own cafe, where customers clad in Barbour puffer jackets and cavalry twill or heavyweight Yorkshire corduroy trousers sit sipping their free coffees while reading The Telegraph. It is a microcosm and a seeming bastion of retired, well-heeled, white, middle-class middle Englanders, waiting patiently to get their country back in 2019 from those ghastly foreigners. 

The Queen Mother looks down on her grandson's creation.

And as one looks through the Waitrose cafe windows, just beyond to Queen Mother Square, there stands a giant statue of the late queen mother looking down on passers-by to reinforce the feeling that all is well and that one is perfectly safe and secure in Dorset’s Poundbury.

No, it's not Jonathan Meads in the shades by Prince Charles on one of his regular visits to his model town.

Amazingly, after all of Prince Charles’s views about modernist architecture, made abundantly clear in his 1988 BBC documentary ‘A Vision of Britain’, he is now, along with Léon Krier, apparently planning a new project: a small modernist town. Krier added: “We will show them how to do it.” 

Watch this space.

Since writing this post The Guardian published an interesting piece on the future of home building in the UK.

Architectural atrocities

London's increasingly chaotic and ugly skyline.

A list of London’s ugliest buildings was published earlier this week. It has never ceased to amaze me that London is fast becoming a litany of horrid architectural structures. To show you just a small example, I set off on my daily walk. My route was from Clerkenwell to Bermondsey and a leisurely meander back again.

During my life, I have witnessed post-war reconstruction, from the new towns and high-rise flats replacing the old, but perfectly saveable, Georgian and Victorian terraces; to the 1960s office boxes; to the advent of brutalism and the world of high-tech, post-modernism and minimalism; and to our present mania for ‘how many different shape buildings can we erect in London?’ ‘Erect’ is the perfect word for those egotistical architects imposing their buildings on us. Let's start with some oldies, many still with us.

Above: some 1960/70's examples on 'home' envisaged by the architects of the day.

A far more enlightened vision of 'home' by Eric Lyons for Span Houses in the 1960's.

The horrors of post modernism.

and minimalism; and to our present mania for ‘how many different shape buildings can we erect in London?’ ‘Erect’ is the perfect word for those egotistical architects imposing their buildings on us.

 Courtesy of my iPhone camera, here is a little visual record of my walk. We kick off at the very end of my road with this monstrosity...

And diagonally opposite that, this ugly rust box...

Farther down Farringdon Road, we have a building that flanks the underground line. It’s a feeble, cheap attempt at post-modernism of the worst kind. Part of the building is still in its original grey and pink granite cladding...

with the remaining two-thirds recently painted in matt black, evoking a very sinister stance...

Just across Blackfriars Bridge, and nearing completion, is the latest addition to the ‘mine’s a different shape and bigger than yours’ architectural club...

The £3+ million apartments will no doubt be snapped up by overseas investors to be left half occupied. Just opposite the above is a building with a fold to mark its identity...

On Hopton Street, I then pass Samson House...

a hangover from the brutalist period of the 60's 70's and what must be one of the most bombastic and inhuman-looking structures ever built in London. And just around the corner from that is the new Tate Switch House building...,

this time with an indented fold. I find it shockingly ugly, with the inside spaces even worse. By this time, I felt the need to find something on a human scale...

and some semblance of beauty. And this is Hopton’s Charity Almshouses. They have been in continuous occupation since 1752. This humble little grouping is a perfect metaphor for what is happening in London. We are all being claustrophobically hemmed in. On my dawdle back, there was an occasional glimpse of London’s industrial past.

Back across Blackfriars Bridge, I can’t resist snapping an old favourite: the charmingly intact art nouveau pub The Black Friar...

festooned with beautifully crafted decoration in bronze, mosaic and stained glass. It embraces you the moment you enter its dimly lit interior. It is pure delight.

I carry on down Farringdon Road, stop at Holborn Viaduct Bridge and look up and see this dark, twisted mess peering over the top...

 

All of the buildings I have criticised have been imposed on us with little regard to their effect on the senses. Beauty seems to be a missing ingredient in most 21st-century buildings. These structures will hang around for many decades to come and, like the swarms of young men and women sporting, from head to foot, brightly coloured tattoos applied to their taught, firm flesh, they will, as their skin wrinkles, lose those once-vibrant colours, fading into a mussy grey, looking like some awful skin disease. 

By the end of my walk, I increasingly felt a little like John Betjeman, who lamented what had replaced so many much-beloved buildings.

Finally, out of desperation, I head for Charterhouse Square, not far from Smithfield market, to just spend a little time there...

The recently renovated Charterhouse dates back to 1348 and has served as a monastery, a private mansion, a boys’ school and still today an alms house for the needy. The building and its little garden are utterly tranquil and are the perfect place to end this Betjemanesque little rant. 

Working in the ever present past

Over the past 15 years, China has built hundreds of new cities. 

Here in the UK, it takes us four years to repair a clock tower. I’m talking about Elizabeth Tower, which houses Big Ben. It will cost £40 million, which includes a ‘full refurbishment’ with the addition of a new visitor centre at the bottom of the tower and installing a lift to the top. 

In addition to this £40 million, there is the planned renovation of the Houses of Parliament at a staggering estimated cost of £3.5 billion. As a Grade 1 listed building, you can bet your bottom dollar that figure will double as new things are ‘discovered’ during the renovation, meaning yet more renovation. The Houses of Parliament is a grossly outmoded building for modern politics. 

The moment a new politician walks into that Victorian, Potteresque, gothic fantasy, with its 100 staircases, more than 1,000 rooms and three miles of passages, something hits them – a massive sense of self-importance, privilege and ultimately a self-serving sense of right. Perfect for Jacob Rees-Mogg and his like, or the bewigged judges and the hereditary lords hanging out in the many heavily subsidised eateries and bars, all delighted to be embraced by the 19th-century backdrop, cosseted from the nasty realities of the outside world.

But we live in the 21st century and our politicians should reflect that, and they just don’t in this archaic building. And to shell out the enormous amount of money bandied about for the renovation is obscene when so much money is desperately needed in far more important areas. 

An average attendance in the House of Commons...

unlesss they happen to be discussing something really important, like their expenses and pay.

Far, far better to create a modern, environmentally sustainable parliamentary building fit for the 21st century, dispensing with the stockinged waiters, wigs and gowns and all the other antiquated trappings. Perhaps then many of the 800 peers would drop out of using the place as “the best club in London” as one peer said to me when I visited with him a few years ago, with many of them collecting their £300 per day for snoozing on the benches after eating subsidised booze and food.

Collecting £300 per day for a Lord is exhausting..

The Lords member's dining room.

And the Commons dining room.

Above a typical menu

Free taxies home for MPs after !!p.m. No smelly tube for them.

And while on politicians expenses here is Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt's new bathroom...

 

A snip at £44,000 for the taxpayer installed exclusively for Hunt's own personal use in his London penthouse office. I'm sure all those 1% pay rise nurses will be pleased for him. This is what I mean by self-serving. 

The parliamentary buildings sitting in such a fabulous location should become the most wonderful complex for the people, with money raised from both public and private sources.

An example of a 21st-century (aka 19th-century) occupant is Sir Robert Rogers (above), who when he retired recently as clerk of the commons was applauded by the house, which he described as “really, really moving”. But Conservative MP Jacob Rees-Mogg said: “I think applause is a bit modern for the House of Commons.” See what I mean. And here is Mr Rees-Mogg in his home setting...

Jacob Rees-Mogg's home blends perfectly with his work environment. 

And then there is the Buckingham Palace ‘emergency’ refurbishment, costing the taxpayer £369m. Don’t get me started on that.