This led to a brief flurry of exploration of other iconic bridges; the innovative and daring 'Gateshead Millennium Bridge' over the Tyne in Newcastle for pedestrians** that provides a most novel means of allowing boat traffic to pass under it, a time-lapse film is here; the five mile long Øresundbroen/Öresundbron*** which links Denmark and Sweden over the seven and a half mile wide Øresund strait, although the bridge is transformed into a tunnel under the strait for the remaining two and a half miles to avoid problems with aircraft approaching København airport to the west; that jewel of Victorian neo-Gothic extravagance, the bascule Tower Bridge.****
As I thought about the many splendid bridges which cross the Thames, Chelsea, Albert, Hammersmith, I was suddenly reminded of the now famous quote, made during a speech at RIBA,***** during an awards ceremony, by no less than HRH, the Prince of Wales, Prince Charles, condemning the proposed extension to the 'classically styled' National Gallery: 'What is proposed is like a monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much loved and elegant friend.' ******
I do not, it must be said, have a very high opinion of the Prince's views; one only has to look at his choice of women to think that perhaps he is not quite dealing from a full deck and the mouthings of rich, pampered royalty are apt to pass me by. However, in this, he struck a chord with ordinary people, people like me, who had been spouting the very same thoughts about the state of the 'built environment' for years.
Unlike New York, which had witnessed the rise of the 'skyscraper' in the 1920's, the Chrysler******* building and the Empire State to name but two, London in the period after the Second World War was still very 'low-rise'. Much of the architecture, or at least what was left after Hitler had tried to flatten it with high explosive or fire, was still Georgian or Victorian, whether 'classical' or neo-Gothic, and few buildings interrupted a low-key skyline. However, as Britain came out its impoverished post-war penury and started to rebuild its crumbling ruins, the mood amongst planners, developers and architects alike was to build up in the manner of New York.
In many respects, this made sound sense; by building upwards using the techniques of steel frames and reinforced concrete, you could fit many more people, whether commercial or domestic, into the same square yardage of land. This would not only generate greater profits for the developer but also solve, at a stroke or so they thought, the sometimes appalling conditions of the poor in London. However, this was no longer the early twentieth century when such movements as Art Nouveau and Art Deco held sway. This was an age of brutalism, almost an era of ugliness for ugliness' sake; it was as if such beauty which might exist would be buried for ever in the horrors of carpet-bombing and the extermination camps.
All around London and other urban areas, tall buildings started to spring up, 20 stories, 30 stories, as grey and as bleak as a London sky in mid-winter when the incessant drizzle falls. City dwellers were forced to trade nuclear sized homes and a small garden for a bathroom and indoor WC, a communal lawn, invariably unkempt, and a loss of community. Office workers fared little better as the towers of industry and commerce grew ever taller and their work-space grew ever smaller. By the mid-seventies, London and many other places, were awash with ugly buildings, with little to commend them; they fell into disrepair almost as soon as they were built. Lifts (elevators) always broke down and took forever to repair; communal areas were the province of cash-strapped councils who paid lip-service to the concept of 'responsibity'; tenant and owner became insular and concerned themselves only with their own 'little box' made of 'ticky-tacky'; each high-rise or collections of high-rises had its very own criminal element in the shape of narcotics dealers and whores who would bed down on an old mattress among the communal dustbins for a quick fuck. The Prince of Wales was only scratching the surface of a very real malaise in Britain's built environment.
Whether Charles' remarks had any real effect, it is difficult to say, (another gem was 'You have to give this much to the Luftwaffe, when it knocked down our buildings, it didn't replace them with anything more offensive than rubble') Local Authorities were already attempting to move back to a more 'people-sized' environment by the time of Charles' speech, but in saying out loud at such an event what most people were thinking perhaps served as a catalyst for a more beautiful, or at least less ugly, environment in which people could work and rest.
Although there are perhaps more examples of stunning buildings in the commercial sector, and still some howlers like '20 Fenchurch Street, 50 New Bond Street and Paddington Canalside, it is the mundane realm of the domestic dwelling that still appears to be in a rut of, at best bland anodyne boxes with scarcely enough room inside to swing a cat, and at worst all the disadvantages of the high-rise but in a low-rise style.
Ultimately, perhaps the Brits hanker after a sense of, now lost, community which only the 'old' and traditional represent but whether the new has indeed displaced that feeling of belonging with alienation or whether it is a product of stranger and more subtle influences, we may never know. What is certain is that buildings decay, become worn out with age, and we will need to replace them. Perhaps all of us are guilty of sins of omission; we care too little for that which surrounds us to become involved in actively changing it for the better.
* The Giralda (a 105m high minaret) is all that remains of the Moorish Mosque which originally stood on the spot; much of Spain was conquered and occupied by the Moors (Arabs from North Africa) from the early eigthth century until the last bastion of Moorish influence, Granada, finally fell in 1492 to the 'Reconquista'. The Mosque itself was badly damaged in an earthquake in the fourteenth century, by which time the Christians had already taken back the city of Sevilla, and by the beginning of the fifteenth century work had begun on probably the most imposing of European cathedrals for which the Giralda would now form the cathedral's bell tower; it would therefore still call the faithful to worship. There used to be a facsimile in New York, at the site of the second Madison Square Garden, until it was demolished in 1926.
** The London Millennium Bridge, forever doomed to be thought of, in London at least, as the 'Wobbly Bridge' (because it did, alarmingly, until it was fixed) is but a pale and insubstantial structure in comparison.
*** The name of the bridge in Danish and Swedish respectively. Although they share a common root, Swedish is slightly different to Danish, hence the two names, one for each side. The company that runs the bridge calls it by its 'compromise' name, Øresundbron, which in no way lessens the impact of the toll levied; €43 one way (about £36.75 or $55.50) which has not lessened either the traffic or the Danes wanting cheaper housing in Sweden and a ten mile commute into København (Copenhagen).
**** The bridge management rent out the enclosed walkway between the two towers, high above the roadway, for functions and parties. I remember a particularly boozy Christmas party there back in the eighties, which was followed by my drinking all of my boss' husband's bottle of 'Wild Turkey' until 5am. Yes, of course I made it into work at 8.00am the following morning, still slightly the worse for wear!
***** The Royal Institute of British Architects.
****** The planned extension was subsequently 'dropped' in favour of a bland edifice perhaps more in keeping with the Prince's sensibilities, although whether he was actually responsible, no-one knows.
******* Surely one of the most beautiful buildings, of any size, to be built in the twentieth century.
In case you are not familiar with the Alamillo bridge, this is it:
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