Moore Street Electricity Substation – Sheffield

Moments from the centre of the City, bordered by dual carriageways and a substantial roundabout, sits a most remarkable building.

What is it?

It’s almost unfathomable.

A carpark lacking entrance and exit, abattoir, contemporary art space?

No – an electrical substation, on such a colossal scale as to relieve you temporarily, of a gasp or two.

Finished entirely in unfinished concrete, a great volume, broken by vertical and horizontal lines, punctuated by intermittent abutments.

Accessed externally via a most extraordinary glazed and enclosed staircase.

Wisely Historic England have had the site listed:

https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1415383

“Electricity substation. 1968 to designs by consulting architects Jefferson, Sheard and Partners, Sheffield, led by Bryan Jefferson, in association with the Regional Civil Engineers’ Department of the CEGB North East Region. Contractors, Longden & Sons Ltd, Sheffield. Reinforced concrete frame with board-marked finish with formwork bolt marks, construction and daywork joints emphasized, concrete floor slabs, blue engineering facing bricks, cladding panels of Cornish granite aggregate.”

Go see for yourself, if you don’t believe my eyes.

DSC_0035 copy

DSC_0057 copy

DSC_0036 copy

DSC_0037 copy

DSC_0031 copy

DSC_0059 copy

DSC_0041 copy

DSC_0042 copy

DSC_0039 copy

DSC_0034 copy

DSC_0043 copy

DSC_0033 copy

 

 

Hexagon Tower – Blackley Manchester

Manchester Orbital – a coach trip around the outer and upper limits of the city’s Modernist Architecture.

Organised by the Manchester Modernist Society

http://www.modernist-society.org

“Seifert’s corporate buildings were regularly bold, those in Manchester no exception, but this is perhaps the most monolithic of his North-West schemes. The site, in a depression adjacent the River Irk in Blackley, was formerly owned by ICI, by whom the building was commissioned. At one time, a four storey ICI laboratory building by émigré architect Serge Chermayeff also stood close. Here, the simple massing, formed by the junction of horizontal and vertical volumes, bears several of Seifert and Partners trademark gestures; the hexagonal geometries, the cut away sections of wall to form entrance ways between structural elements, and the repetitive facade. The end wall is reminiscent of Tolworth Tower, also by Seifert. The tower and podium configuration is a product of the brief; the machine hall had to be at ground level and have no construction above. The narrow tower has no internal columns, the structural grid is mirrored in the services arrangement and the two co-exist outside the usable volume of the laboratory space, in the walls and floor. This solution is expressed in the deep reveals of the main façade, services travel vertically between the window modules. Whilst somewhat hidden, the building reveals itself fantastically from elevated vantage points, the tram south from Bowker Vale station being one such location. Originally it was intended that four of these towers would be built and run along the river valley in some sort of massive futurist domino arrangement.”

With thanks to Mainstream Modern

http://www.mainstreammodern.co.uk/casestudies.aspx/Detail/72/hexagon-tower

DSC_0013

DSC_0023

DSC_0026

DSC_0017

DSC_0030

DSC_0032

DSC_0024

DSC_0045

DSC_0044

DSC_0029

DSC_0025

DSC_0027

DSC_0043

DSC_0046

DSC_0038

DSC_0036

DSC_0018

Post Office Tower

The man from BT he says “No!”

I only asked.

Everyone’s life is towered over by one obsessive dream or other.

So why not have an overpowering, towering dream of a Tower?

I asked to come in, he said no.

What was once ours, opened in 1965 by PM Harold Wilson at the behest of Tony Benn, was sold by PM Margaret Thatcher.

– “It’s good to talk.”

It’s bad to gift ownership of other peoples’ towers to other people, in the name of “popular capitalism.”

So I dry my eyes, pick myself up and engage in an immersive therapy, absorbing the visual culture of the seemingly unobtainable Tower – like an eternally embittered Rapunzel in reverse.

Marine Court – St Leonards on Sea

It’s ever so easy to fall in love with a building, that’s ever so lovable.

So much of its time and place – a perfect piece of Seaside Moderne.

Sun soaked and whiter than white, against almost clear blue southern skies.

A luxury liner beached and beloved, now returned to showroom condition.

Go see for y’self.

http://www.modernistbritain.co.uk/post/building/Marine+Court/

Washeteria – Hastings

Don’t forget to forget.

Big is not large, not small.

This is a dirty blue,  washed-out pale yellow, Alice in Wonderland un-wonderful land.

Time will not stand still – you’re in a spin, oh what a spin that you’re in.

Walk in, wash and wish.

DSC_0424 copy

DSC_0439 copy

DSC_0429 copy

DSC_0431 copy

DSC_0438 copy

DSC_0441 copy

DSC_0436 copy

DSC_0434 copy

DSC_0428 copy

DSC_0444 copyDSC_0445 copy

DSC_0427 copy

DSC_0430 copy

DSC_0432 copy

DSC_0435 copy

DSC_0443 copy

DSC_0442 copy

Hastings – Arthur Green’s

Facing happily out to sea, hard by Hastings promenade, sits Arthur Green’s, former menswear shop of some considerable distinction. Currently operating as an antiques centre, the whole of the perfectly preserved, period interior is now listed by English Heritage.

A mosaic porch and glass lined vestibule, invite you into a palace of dark hardwood fittings, capacious drawers, glass fronted cabinets, and an ornately carved cashiers booth, all topped off and lit by crystal chandeliers.

Few such example still exist intact, their contents usually ripped out, ripped off and reinstalled in chi-chi overpriced, cosmopolitan boutiques – suits you sir?

I think not!

My thanks to the helpful and patient staff who informed and facilitated my mooching.

Take a walk along the front – pop in.

P1020506 copy

P1020523 copy

P1020510 copy

P1020521 copy

P1020522 copy

P1020526 copy

P1020512 copy

P1020511 copy

P1020520 copy

P1020508 copy

P1020529 copy

P1020518 copy

P1020509 copy

P1020530 copy

P1020505 copy

P1020515 copy

P1020507 copy

P1020516 copy

P1020514 copy

P1020513 copy

P1020528 copy

Launderette – London Road St Leonards

Mid blue linoleum tiles, patched here there.

And everywhere.

Signs

Everywhere.

In an uncertain universe, you can almost always rely on the launderette, to guide you on life’s soapy journey, through a complex series of immutable do’s and don’ts, arrows, slots, buttons and bows.

Giant is the new big is the new large.

I feel so small.

P1020467 copy

P1020466 copy

P1020482 copy

P1020469 copy

P1020472 copy

P1020475 copy

P1020478 copy

P1020477 copy

P1020487 copy

P1020479 copy

P1020471 copy

P1020481 copy

P1020476 copy

P1020470 copy

P1020473 copy

P1020474 copy

P1020480 copy

P1020468 copy

P1020483 copy

P1020484 copy

P1020485 copy

P1020486 copy

The Wash Inn – Hastings

Standing alone in an unattended laundrette can be a chilling experience, a heightened state of awareness abounds, accentuating that all pervasive absence of presence.

The unseen hand, that write the notes, that speak to you in emphatic hurried caps, pinned or taped precisely on the walls.

The ghosts of clothes, still warm, now gone.

A Proust defying amalgam of aromas, that almost fills the air.

Just you and a series of slots, demotic instructions, care worn utilitarian surfaces and time.

Wash Inn get out.

Pevensey – Oyster Bungalows

Hardly by accident, passing Pevensey Bay by bike one sunny summer’s day, hurriedly intent on catching up with old friends.

Having visited here some years ago, under the guidance of pal Pauline, I was as ever, over eager to renew our previously brief acquaintance.

There they were waiting patiently, to the left of a long straight road, running parallel to the adjacent shore.

Oyster Bungalows – so called for their cylindrical form and formerly scalloped barge boards.

Holiday homes the work of designer / architect: Martin & Saunders Limited built: 1937 – 1939.

Small and perfectly formed, they all seem to have suffered the indignities of ageing none to gracefully.

Subject to the whims of fashion and the uPVC expediency of our age.

Typically no two are the same, variegated planting, neglect and graceless addenda grace the previously pristine homes.

For all that, their diminutive charm remains undiminished.

My spirits lifted as I strolled by, inevitably yours will too.

Llanidloes – Shopfronts

In the heart of Wales, former centre of the flannel industry, stands Llanidloes.

Through civic pride, love and local doggedness, the decorative shopfront prevails unabashed.

The finest selection of carved and moulded wooden filigree, hand painted signs, large open panes, tile work and the odd suspended folk-art sheep, adorn substantial Victorian properties, rich in the market town tradition of controlled opulence. A varied typology, the majority continuing to trade, the odd domestic conversion retaining its retail characteristics, whilst maintaining its modesty, behind tightly drawn net curtains.

Go take a look.

P1070185 copy

P1070187 copy

P1070188 copy

P1070190 copy

P1070197 copy

P1070198 copy

P1070199 copy

P1070205 copy

P1070206 copy

P1070207 copy

P1070208 copy

P1070224 copy

P1070225 copy

P1070227 copy

P1070228 copy

P1070229 copy

P1070230 copy

P1070231 copy

P1070232 copy

P1070233 copy

P1070234 copy

P1070235 copy

P1070236 copy

P1070238 copy

P1070239 copy

P1070240 copy

P1070241 copy

P1070242 copy

P1070243 copy

Margate – Arlington House

Arlington House is a 58 metre high eighteen-storey residential apartment block in Margate, Kent, England.

It was built in 1964, it has 142 apartments, and was designed by Russell Diplock & Associates, developed by Bernard Sunley Trust, and built by the contractors Bernard Sunley & Sons.

The sides of the building have a wave-like design, providing both inland and sea views.

It was initially advertised as Britain’s first park and buy shopping centre with luxury flats , incorporating a theatre, restaurant and rooftop swimming pool.

Arlington Margate

I’ll try anything twice.

So off I went to Margate, on a train, again.

Rushing out of the station agog, eager, looking for a long lost friend.

An impudent exclamation mark at the end of a rowdy Georgian row.

Arlington House.

A mad amalgam of angles, incautious concrete surfaces and glass.

Entranced, enchanted, we both stare out to sea and eye each other admiringly.

DSC_0015 copy
DSC_0409 copy
DSC_0012 copy
DSC_0422 copy
DSC_0419 copy
DSC_0421 copy
DSC_0458 copy
DSC_0416 copy
DSC_0460 copy
DSC_0413 copy
DSC_0018 copy
DSC_0456 copy
DSC_0425 copy
DSC_0463 copy
DSC_0459 copy
DSC_0457 copy
DSC_0424 copy
DSC_0522 copy

Pottons – Cliftonville Margate

Should you, as I did wander down Northdown Road, Cliftonville, you will chance upon Pottons at 262.

By now however, ingress is more than somewhat inhibited.

It’s closed.

The most exciting and extant period fascia, once gave way to oak fittings and fixtures festooned with all manner of menswear, exotic and plain accoutrements, now inaccessible.

It’s gone.

A few sad remnants were on sale, administered in their final days by Lorraine, employed for 35 years in a family business, whose trade had once included made to measure, fine millinery and quality accessories for the discerning gent around town.

No more.

DSC_0298 copy

DSC_0299 copy

DSC_0300 copy

DSC_0302 copy

DSC_0293 copy

DSC_0294 copy

DSC_0306 copy

DSC_0307 copy

DSC_0308 copy

DSC_0309 copy

DSC_0310 copy

DSC_0311 copy

DSC_0312 copy

DSC_0319 copy

DSC_0322 copy

DSC_0324 copy

DSC_0326 copy

DSC_0327 copy

DSC_0329 copy

DSC_0330 copy

Laundrette – Rhayader

There is a sign.

An Illuminated sign.

There are signs.

Handwritten signs – notices, instructions, scribbled hurriedly, underlined, highlighted, boxed for emphasis.

Taped up.

There are machines, top loaders, best left half empty.

Terrazzo floor, leatherette banquette.

Out of disorder comes out of order.

P1070160 copy

P1070139 copy

P1070143 copy

P1070144 copy

P1070151 copy

P1070147 copy

P1070153 copy

P1070142 copy

P1070159 copy

P1070140 copy

P1070156 copy

P1070154 copy

P1070145 copy

P1070163 copy

P1070141 copy

P1070162 copy

P1070165 copy

P1070148 copy

P1070150 copy

P1070161 copy

P1070149 copy

P1070155 copy

P1070146 copy

P1070152 copy

P1070157 copy

P1070164 copy

Close the door when you leave

North Wales – B&B

Just two Bs and an ampersand, but what volumes they speak, secrets they contain, what does go on behind closed doors?

Bed and breakfast, an immovable feast.

Various does not begin to describe their variety, a cornucopia of dolorous decor, quizzical cuisine, curios, carpets and cohabitees.

So knock on, walk into the hall, up the stairs, open that door – who knows what fate awaits you.

P1070107 copy

P1070280 copy

P1070440 copy

P1070443 copy

P1070444 copy

P1070445 copy

P1070446 copy

P1070447 copy

P1070612 copy

P1070614 copy

P1070615 copy

P1070616 copy

P1070617 copy

P1070619 copy

P1070620 copy