Through The Lens #9

#9: Warehouse

Warehouses. Large. Cavernous, even. Ugly? Definitely conspicuous in their surroundings. But, in a twist of irony, crucial to the online world we now live in. For the internet, or at least retail on the internet, relies almost entirely on these huge storage and distribution centres dotted around the UK, and indeed the world. We have replaced physical shops on our high street for anonymous, enormous, incongruous mammoths in the countryside. And we all know what happened to the mammoth.

Our desire for here and now products, next day delivery, and a huge range of choice of anything from glow in the dark garden gnomes to a 6ft statue of Zeus, means that these gigantic spaces are here to stay and probably increase in number and size.

For some reason, probably that of speed, efficiency and cost, these glorified sheds are yet to be designed in a way that is aesthetically pleasing or suited to their surroundings. Instead they squat unceremoniously in the landscape like giant cubes of sugar in our green and pleasant pastures. And we all know too much sugar is bad for us.

Maybe as time goes on, architects and engineers will begin to design these buildings sympathetically, using the vast acreage of the roofs for plants, or solar panels. This would go some way to offset the carbon footprint of the extra delivery trucks now on our roads. Rooftop meadows could provide space for pollinators and birds to live, making up for the area the size of - insert a relevant size measurement in relation to Wales here - taken up by these buildings. 

They are modern cathedrals to consumerism. They consume space, resources and land, and churn out products which our chubby fingers typed away ordering a mere seconds before. This is the modern world. We are becoming increasingly distant from our natural world and surroundings, and are destroying more of it in our continued distancing from it. 

Warehouses were initially built in correlation to the capacity of the vessels transporting the goods. That's why the many old quayside buildings up and down the country are almost perfect for conversion into luxury flats now, they were built on a human scale. Increased warehouse capacity means increased haulage capacity, and vice versa. This cycle is forcing us to build more, bigger warehouses, then build more lorries, roads, services to cater for the vehicles etc. All this because we stopped going to a physical shop and went on a computer instead. It's a cruel twist of fate but also invisible to most of us, so we don't think about it.

We can't change the way the modern economy, and in particular our internet economy, now functions. That's luddite in attitude and philistine in thinking. But we should look at the real-world impact our online actions have. Warehouses are probably the most obvious physical representation of this. If nothing else is done, we could at least require them to be designed in sympathy with the surrounding environment, and provide provisions to replace, support or cooperate with the natural environment they have disturbed. 

The oak tree in the picture above could potentially live for hundreds more years. What will the solid expanse of white panelling constituting the wall of the warehouse look like in 500 years? If it's even standing, what purpose will it have? The oak tree's role is pretty clear. The warehouse is the great pretender.

If you've enjoyed reading this, or desperately need something to take your mind of warehouses, try one of my other Through The Lens features:

Through The Lens #1
Through The Lens #2
Through The Lens #3
Through The Lens #4
Through The Lens #5
Through The Lens #6

Through The Lens #7
Through The Lens #8

Through The Lens #8

#8: Car Parks

This is Church Street Multi-storey car park in Watford. At the moment I took this picture, a couple were admiring the view over West Watford during a particularly pretty sunset in May 2015.

Watford suffered from the misguided 1960s town planning which struck many towns and cities across the UK. In fact, I'd go as far as saying that Watford was almost as badly affected as Coventry. But for some reason Coventry gets more attention for their ring-road oblivion. At least that's something for them to shout about. 

Church Street car park sits on the western edge of the town centre right next to the ring road, shielding St Mary's church from the traffic. As far as multi-storey car parks go, it's actually quite interesting and well designed, looking more like a model borrowed from a Gerry Anderson supermarionation show, replete with its spiralling ramp, weird concrete lantern/bandstand and moulded-concrete patterned exterior wall facing the church. It is quite pokey inside though.

To top it off, the whole building has just been painted too, which covered up the years of grime and degradation which so often makes concrete structures look that much worse. That said, it is still a car park. 

But then again, that's my point on this occasion; we often overlook our car parks as merely functional structures doing a functional thing. 

Church Street, for example, sits right in the heart of central Watford. As does the Gade Car Park and Palace Car Park on the opposite sides of the town centre. These are prime locations and actually some of the tallest structures in the town. Likewise, across many cities in the UK, central car parks tower over the central districts. This was the case in Birmingham, with its Pallasades shopping centre car park above New Street Station, just about as central as could be (it's since been pulverised and turned into a shiny John Lewis - which is how they make all John Lewises nationwide). The King William Car Park and Princesshay Car Park in Exeter were second in height only to (you guessed it) the John Lewis building…and possibly the flag poles on the cathedral towers.

Trinity Square car park in Gateshead was another example of a huge, dominating car park in a prime urban spot. It was of the more harsh grey, brutalist concrete style which springs to mind when you think "multi-storey car park". In fact, it is the epitome of a multi-storey car park. I say "is", it was demolished in 2010 and is now a John Lewis. Only joking, this one became a Tesco and was actually nominated for the Carbuncle Cup.

Car parks, therefore, are some of the most central, well placed buildings in our urban environments. They're obviously well-connected and accessible, and most of the time tower over everything else around them, providing excellent views of the town you happen to be in. But how often have you ever looked at a car park and thought "viewing platform"? We just don't see these structures as anything other than functional. Besides, if your town has an ugly car park then the best place to be is in it, so you won't have to look at it. Much like the Eiffel Tower (that joke comes courtesy of Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant).

We're on the cusp of a technological revolution in the automotive world, and these concrete colossi may well be gone within a lifetime. It's guesswork, obviously, but I am willing to predict that in 10-20 years, automated vehicles will be summoned at the tap of a button on whatever devices we have, and actual ownership will be non-existent. Instead, we will pay subscriptions in the style of Netflix or a phone contract, which will enable us to use one of a fleet of autonomous cars (electric, hydrogen, biofuel or some such power source) which just ferry people around constantly. After all, your car spends most of its life idle on a driveway or in a parking space, so it makes sense when they become fully automated, for them to just be used as and when you need it; and when you don't, someone else will be in it. 

With this in mind, what of the car park? It won't be needed, obviously. It's prime central location will look increasingly conspicuous and untenable, the sheer scale and waste of space will be too much to bear. just think of all the John Lewises there could be! (Solihull's tallest building is a John Lewis with a car park on the roof. Just for irony, I presume). 

So, make the most of our car parks. They may not all be pretty and the stairwells may smell dubious. The concrete will be grey, moulding and flakey, and it's likely there will be pigeons everywhere, but remember: they probably offer the best views around, and for free. But most importantly, it is likely that these structures, nay the entire concept of leaving your own vehicle somewhere, will be gone within your lifetime, to become a relic just like mews have become places where posh people live (see Through The Lens #7 for more on that). Stables and blacksmiths once dominated Victorian cities. When was the last time you saw a stable in your town?

The car park's day is nearly done and so, like the couple in my image above, you too should admire the views from the top floor, as the sun sets on these most 20th century of creations. 

If you've enjoyed reading this, or desperately need something to take your mind of car parks, try one of my other Through The Lens features:

Through The Lens #1
Through The Lens #2
Through The Lens #3
Through The Lens #4
Through The Lens #5
Through The Lens #6
Through The Lens #7

Through The Lens #7

#7: Affordable Housing 

This row of 1970s built, three bedroom houses can be found on Lamble Street in North London, not far from Hampstead Heath. Designed by architects Benson and Forsyth for Camden Council, it is a single row of nine, three storey, three bedroom houses incorporated into the larger Mansfield Estate. 

There is a car pool underneath the main living quarters, which are accessed by a staircase. The split level interiors are lit by skylights, with a roof terrace/garden above. The bedrooms, living rooms and bathrooms are spread over the three floors. 

All in all, they are modest sized homes for a small family, designed in the brutalist style (although much less harshly than some contemporary designs). Walking past them in the street, you probably wouldn't look twice; it's just another one of post-war London's housing schemes. However, the average price for one of these houses (as of late 2015) is around £3,000 per month in rent, or to buy, between £800,000 and £1,000,000. Which brings me to my point: affordable housing.

Now, by London's standards, especially within the golden glow of northern Zones 1-3, £800k to a cool £1m isn't even overly pricey. And more to the point, these small, modern houses could just as easily be a Victorian terrace, an Edwardian Lutyens-inspired Arts & Crafts house, a Georgian town house or a modern industrial conversion. Whatever the aesthetics of the bricks and mortar, the fact is that they are all extortionately (over)priced.

London survives through its lowest paid inhabitants: The street cleaners, the nurses, teachers, the Latvian immigrant serving you your inflation-busting mocca-locca-hocca-whatevery-spresso. Cab drivers, the guys in high-vis in cherry pickers changing light bulbs in a street lamp. Students. Whoever they are, the low paid, often invisible, people are what keeps London ticking for the super-rich to enjoy. The "vibrancy" and atmosphere of this city is what draws these people to it and makes them "invest" (although what they actually contribute to society with their flashy cars and brief summer stop-overs is a matter for debate). Their money is toxic to the people who live here all year round.

And herein lies the issue: by treating these brick and mortar structures, of all denominations, variations, designs and styles etc. as investments, they are creating a Disneyland of impossibility in which nobody on even a respectable salary (teachers and doctors are struggling to live within the city now) can afford to find a home.

The houses pictured above are interesting, maybe one day even architecturally important, but they are not worth £1m. They aren't worth a fraction of that. The notion of them as a home is where the value lies. Everyone wants a home, but people seeing London's property as a cash-cow, or an accessory about which they can brag, has pushed the simple goal of having a place to live out of the reach of almost everyone who actually lives and works in the city. The fact we even have the term "affordable housing" in the language highlights just how ridiculous the situation is becoming. 

Of course, the young and poor are disproportionately affected. Pushed into ghetto-like flat-shares with an endless carousel of tenants coming and going with each rent increase, this demographic is becoming increasingly transient and insecure. Forced ever further away or into decreasingly habitable premises with each rent hike, it's no surprise there is a proliferation of sheds in gardens, adverts for beds in cupboards, and a rise in homelessness across the capital. 

Ultimately, the bricks, facades, timbers and lintels may stay the same, and when you walk past a building all may look calm and respectful externally, but the reality is that behind most walls and doors there is now a group of people struggling to survive, spending upwards of half their salary on a room to sleep in, just so they can go back to work to pay for the next night. 

I have taken a lot of pictures across London of various types of housing, but no matter where I am and what the building is, the issue is the same: the cost of living here in your own home now far exceeds the financial abilities of most people in London.

This precariousness damages community, it damages longevity and loyalty to a specific area, but most of all it prevents people from ever feeling like they can call somewhere home. And that's what these buildings shown above are meant to be; homes.

Read more from the Through The Lens Series

Through The Lens #1
Through The Lens #2
Through The Lens #3
Through The Lens #4
Through The Lens #5
Through The Lens #6