Archive for the ‘Architecture’ Category

Monday, May 7th, 2012

Miyajima

The Floating Torii at Miyajima

Where were all the tourists who should have been visiting Matsushima, classified officially as one of Japan’s best three views (see link)? Most of them, it seems, were visiting one of the other “best views”, the famous “floating” torii at Miyajima, which is one the most photographed images in Japan. It serves them right. What they got to see was a massive piece of scaffolding sitting in mud flats, surrounded by people holding umbrellas. Just as the Taj Mahal has to be seen by moonlight, so the floating torii have to be seen at high tide, otherwise they don’t appear to float. They aren’t so impressive when sitting in mud. It’s so ironic that the place people think is surrounded by mud, Matsushima, is looking perfect, with no-one there to enjoy it.

Sunday, December 11th, 2011

Kevin McCloud’s Little Boxes

Kevin Mcleod's Little Boxes

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There’s a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

From “Little Boxes” by Malvina Reynolds, sung by Pete Seeger

Kevin McCloud’s Little Boxes aren’t made out of ticky tacky – they’re apparently made from Hempcrete, a new material made from hemp, whose botanical name is Cannabis Sativa.   It was depressing watching his programme, “Kevin’s Grand Design”, because “grand” is probably the least appropriate word for the designs – they are small, cramped, “little boxes” in fact and, most depressing of all, with very little outdoor space.

At one time a garden, a private place to relax and grow flowers and vegetables was considered essential even in the most basic housing*.  In the 1920’s, the Ministry of Health specified that no more than 8 houses should be built to the acre and that there should be a minimum of 70 feet between each house. This is how it was put:

“The objective is to secure round the house the air space required for health, to grow fruit and vegetables for our table…to surround ourselves with pleasant places to live and work, rest and play, and to entertain friends”.

In the inter-war years, 1 million houses were built by local authorities to this specification, and a further 3 million houses were built privately, creating the suburbia which we know today, with its familiar lay-out of cul-de-sacs lined by a double row of trees.  The houses were built on farmland and society accepted that the loss of green space was a price worth paying to allow people to escape the poor conditions of the cities.

In Kevin McCloud’s development, which was built by a Housing Association using public money (£4.2m), the density of houses is more than double that permitted 85 years ago, with the result that there is no room for private gardens.  His development has small spaces allocated for allotments, but that’s it.  What has brought about this sad state of affairs?  A clue could be found in the fierce opposition which Kevin McCloud faced from neighbours to the two developments which he described in his programme (the first of which was aborted because of public opposition).  People who already own houses don’t want new houses to be built on their doorstep and public policy (which is an extension of this nimbyism) won’t allow any development on farmland.  We are now 8 times richer than we were 85 years ago, so it’s pretty shocking that the quality of our new social housing stock should be so much inferior to what it used to be.  Perhaps that’s why Kevin McCloud packed his walls with Cannabis Sativa.

*These statistics and quotations are taken from “Suburban Ideals on England’s Interwar Council Estates” by Matthew Hollow, published in the Journal of the Garden History Society (39: 2 2011).

Monday, September 19th, 2011

Edwin Lutyens

Lutyens

“The piece of cod which passes all understanding”
Edwin Lutyens (whose wife never mastered the art of cooking).

To an amateur like myself there’s something especially admirable about someone who reaches the peak of their profession without any formal training. Raymond Blanc has achieved this in the world of cooking; Edwin Lutyens did it in architecture. Edwin (Ned) Lutyens never qualified as an architect; in fact because of illness he spent only two years at school and then, after a year as a teenager in an architect’s office, decided to set off on his own. As Matthew Parris told us in ‘Great Lives’, Gertrude Jekyll gave him a baptism of fire by giving him the commission to design Munstead and then, to Lutyens’ intense fury, endlessly rejecting his designs until he got it right.

Lutyens used only stone, brick and wood in his houses, never concrete, even though this was the trendy material for modern architects during his heyday. The concrete boxes which won so many accolades have all crumbled and are proving desperately difficult to keep watertight and to preserve. The houses which Lutyens built of stone, brick and wood are still standing and are still greatly admired, not least by me.