The Politics of Architecture

A lighthearted midweek post. Honest. 

For those American readers who’ve never heard or understood of weird British politics, let me explain a few things. We’ve got two main political parties, just like you. Labour and Conservative. Both of which turn every year more and more American; in style, image and lack of substance.

But unlike you, we have a lot of minor ones. Because no one wants to vote for the major ones, the minor ones are rattling the cage of politics right now. Right now, in fact, they hold the balance of power: our Coalition government is a mix of two groups (the Conservatives, who have teamed up with the Liberals) who, charmingly, pathologically hate each other, it seems to me, more than either of them hate the other side. Weird, but true. Are you with me so far?

Well, there’s a new kid on the block. They are called UKIP. In fact they’re a very old-fashioned kindof kid, but in the last 3 minutes they’ve been making rather a lot of hot air because no-one had ever taken them seriously before and suddenly they are… if not quite winning votes…  at least stopping the Conservatives from winning votes. Because they are almost more conservative than Conservatives, without necessarily being crazy religious gun-totin’ gay-hatin’ fruitcakes, like your Conservatives over there in the New World.

So all sorts of conservative folk have decided the Conservatives have let them down (by teaming up with those Liberals) and they’re going to take their vote elsewhere, thank you very much too.

UKIP stands for the UK Independence Party and for years they’ve stood on the basis of one thing only. They want Britain to get out of Europe. And they hate the Euro, and they really hate Immigration. What I’ve always found odd about this is that my gut feeling is that by far and away the biggest supporters of UKIP seem to be a variety of fat, rather crude, doubtless charming-under-the-surface-but-I’ve-never-quite-seen-it, retired English people who’ve decided to live their latter years in Spain and spend the whole time complaining about the friggin locals. Which, of course, they can only do because we’re part of Europe, otherwise they’d still be scrabbling about in the cold and rain in some desperate suburb of a northern city.

Of course, my dear mum threatens to vote UKIP all the time, but I wonder if she ever has?

My politics has always been pretty simple. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. You leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone.  Let me do what I want in the bedroom and I won’t try and stop you from fox hunting or wearing a brass cross around your neck at work, if it really is important. You be civilised to me; I’ll be nice back.

Oh, and my second rule, is always try and look at every problem from the opposite point of view.  Clearly no good if you’re looking for a strong leader, but luckily I spend my weekends pottering around in my veg garden instead of deciding how to lead. It’s the politics of understanding. 

Without wanting to get personal, I’ve only ever voted Labour in my life. Which is weird because if you looked at me you’d think I was a nice true blue Tory (that’s slang for a Conservative, for the American audience. You see, it’s all being explained here). Well, I probably am a true blue Tory, at least by nurture, if not by nature. Like: obviously I should want lower high rates of taxes and all? Yes, but I always think it’s a bit more… interesting… not to vote in one’s own personal interest. Don’t you?  Voting just for yourself seems, hmmm, rather narrow-minded.   

OKAY OKAY I HEAR A COLLECTIVE YAWN, why de F**K is ben pentreath ranting on again?

Well, back to UKIP, if you will. 

Yesterday, I happened to discover a rather weird video that some nutcase supporter of UKIP has placed on You tube.  At time of writing, it has 64 views. Obviously I expect that number to rise dramatically now that I’ve brought it to the attention of thousands of metropolitan sophisticates just like you.

Here it is.  If you’re in your office, please put your headphones on. The swelling soundtrack is critical to the mood of the film.  If you’re reading at home, please turn up the volume button.

Why am I so fussed? 

Because 38 seconds in to this piece of drama, BUILDINGS THAT I HAVE DESIGNED OPEN THE FLIPPING FILM. HELLO!?!?!??!?!

As the dramatic music swells, the dreadfully-filmed video swoops around a group of houses called Woodland Crescent, that I designed years ago now, in Prince Charles’s development in Poundbury. The grainy film effect is slightly sinister, a little creepy. The score makes me wonder if by 1 minute and 7 seconds I’m about to witness some dreadful murder. No: we are just learning that this is how UK Independence Party wants Britain to look.

Okay, okay, I appreciate that once you’ve put a building up – it belongs to everyone. A fact that from time to time I think might be forgotten by one or two Starchitects, who I sometimes think are just designing for themselves. But nonetheless, this is rather taking it too far. At 1 minute 35 more buildings that I’ve designed (this time in Scotland) pop up.  

At which point, I couldn’t help thinking: GUYS, please leave me alone, if I leave you alone!!

So. I know that for centuries buildings have been political things. No more so than in the 20th century: Mussolini, Albert Speer, Stalin, I know, I know, Classical architecture is deeply totalitarian blah blah.  Oh god, even worse, then there are the counter arguments, about meaning in architecture, and 20th century modernists using everyone as little lab rats, and the fact that Greece was the original democracy…….. and…. well, you can see why I want to throw myself off a cliff when politicians and pundits start talking about architecture and vice versa.

For me, I just want to design a few nice houses. I want them to look nice, I’d quite like them to fit in, I want people to be happy there, I want them to be well-proportioned and well detailed and I want the people who are building those houses to feel a little sense of pride that they’ve made something worthwhile at the end of the day.  (I’m not sure that if you’re a bricklayer for a volume house builder you necessarily feel that).

What’s this all about? The trauma, perhaps, of finding out suddenly that I’m a poster boy for a political party that I think is a joke?  Needing to get a few things off my chest?  Or merely proving the rule that you should never drink 4 glasses of wine while composing a blog about politics one evening? 

We had a good laugh about the UK Independence Party in the office this morning. But, in all honesty, I’d sooner they’d leave my buildings out of it.


16 comments on this post

  1. Lindsay says:

    For me, any building typology that engages stylistic elements visible in the video can only encourage reactionary fandom so I wouldn’t be surprised at the free advertising. This is not a debate about classicism or modernism but about views that it was always better in the good old days and this is to me an alarmingly dangerous world view.

  2. Tony Kiley says:

    Unhappily the UKIP video is now private. Love your work Mr Pentreath. Architects and especially students need to realize that the Venice Charter has become a licence to print Modernism. Viva the architects that produce buildings that look like they have always been there.

  3. domestos goddess says:

    Oh Ben. Now I truly love you.

  4. NancyJoan says:

    Um, I think this *proves* the rule that you should only post after 4 glasses of wine! :) That music just is ridiculous!

  5. Charlie says:

    I would hope the people building the houses/temples of aesthetics would feel more than just a little pride. If you have ever had a bad plastering job, I am sure you will understand.

  6. S Louise says:

    That might explain why I like this blog so much Mr. Ben Pentreath.

    As others have pointed out the UKIP video does highlight some important architectural considerations. They should most definitely be high on the agenda – but I’m not sure if it should be a political one. Architecture, for me at least, has always been about taste first, functionality a close second. That’s why leaving such decisions to civil servants / the incumbent party who might be voted out in a few years’ time usually brings disasterous results. But of course they are the ones who hold the purse strings….or in some cases are in the pockets of the giant corporations who build these monstrosities…and therein lies the dilemma. We need an expert (=good taste), long-term, practical vision unfettered by the restrictions of lobbying.

    UKIP’s vision for the future of this country’s architecture is commendable, but I’d like to see where / how they are going to house everyone once they’ve forbidden all housing estates and tower blocks. I’d like to see how they’re going to pay for the restoration and renovation of historical buildings (I’m no architect but I’ve always been told renovating is much more expensive than buliding from scratch?) If UKIP was a business I wouldn’t invest, as it seems that they don’t even have a business plan.

  7. Mike says:

    Canada has Tories, too- not as interesting as their British cousins though their party has been through a few changes over the years from Progressive Conservative back to plain Conservative after reuniting with the splinter reform party. Like you I’m a Tory in certain aspects- great respect for the monarchy & history and I certainly like law and order. Like you I’m also gay & fairly liberal on social policy and could never vote for Republicans here in the US, though it might benefit me economically. The sensible Republicans are long gone and I don’t think they’ll be returning anytime soon. I’ve always envisioned UKIP as a British version of the Tea Party nutters we have; older,anti just about everything & always going on about the invading “hordes”. Though as you pointed out, they’re not gun fetishists- one of the Tea Party/NRA types recently said he would tell the parents of the kids shot at Sandy Hook to “go to hell” for wanting to restrict his second amendment rights. Because obviously background checks are far worse than 20 slaughtered children, right? Ugh. While it may not be as civilized as one would like in the UK at least you’re not living in a nation that is stark raving mad.

  8. Charles Smith says:

    It is unfortunate that you can only see the UKIP question through a liberal filter. To allow the level of immigration on the British people without first obtaining consent is highly undemocratic. Moreover, to refer to those who now live in Spain as “fat and crude”, is to refer in the same way, to the same DNA, that Won the second World War, and built the many buildings and machines of lasting and wonder. No! Those that are “crude” are those that group together those they do not know, or have not met, and without asking them what talent they have or what talent they could be given and to discard them with distain. Having got that off my chest I really love your architecture and no I don’t live in Spain!

  9. Suzy O'Brien says:

    Ben Pentreath is fabulously entertaining, especially after 4 glasses of wine. A great read.

  10. jill says:

    I felt like I was watching a nazi propaganda film – it was so heavy-handed! crazy -

  11. Rachel says:

    Bravo to UKIP for its position on historic preservation and supporting artisan workers; I agree with EC that UKIP should be given credit for raising this as a political issue, because, it is – though, interestingly, in America, historic preservation is most definitely a liberal (Democrat) cause. (Because just like how Conservative Republicans don’t want you telling them what they can do with their guns, they don’t want to be told what they can and can’t do with their property. OH! But this principle doesn’t apply to one’s body. Confused? Rightly so.)

    Wonderful comment overall by EC. You have a great blog, and great readers. Love the dialog here.

  12. EC says:

    It’s clear that this discussion is actually about building regulations and the planning process. Both of these, especially planning, are by definition, political areas. We might agree that UKIP are mad, but at least this video brings the discussion about vernacular architecture to the fore. Usually, it is very much in the political background, and we have the madness of the local and regional plans to contend with, unchallenged, as a result. Of course we all know that the dismal architecture of the post-war years stemmed directly from political decisions. [To Sylvie - I'm sure you had a great time living in Cripps, but that's not quite the point. Certainly there is a place for experimental architecture - but you can't exactly criticise a tourist for thinking that a particular, unique, historic view has been defiled, as indeed it has been. In east London, in Cambridge suburbs:- fine, modernism isn't spoiling much. In a historic area, an architect's/college's spur-of-the-moment decision to have a witty juxtaposition of old and new irreversibly changes the character of an area. This style of post-war academic building had a specific overt political/social purpose, as I'm sure you're well aware.] The left conspicuously, continually, identified with modernism. Look a soviet art! Look at our wartime government posters! Look at the whole pattern of post-war development! Listen to recordings of Goldfinger! Of course modernist architecture now has the socialist cultural baggage it has. Contrastingly, it’s far to simple to say that classicism is the language of totalitarianism – if that’s what’s taught in architecture schools then it’s a woeful indictment of their sense of and connection with history. For a start, it has a much longer history than modernism – fascism engaged and copied with a particular derivative of it only. BP might feel uncomfortable designing smaller houses, not tower-blocks, and being seen as conservative. But this isn’t really a question of C20th history, it’s about the future.

    All the historical debate about modernism slightly misses the point: what building rules would you change? The 1774 legislation was so successful because it not only caused a great social improvement by ensuring that buildings were built to better/larger/more hygienic standards, but also was drafted with an eye to the aesthetics of the buildings which would be built in conformity to it. The contemporary acts are not so sensible. Ridicule UKIP by all means, but no main party has suggested amending the contemporary building acts in a sensible way. The result? Ugliness at best, and social collapse, as is well documented. Perhaps they might, if an architect comes up with good recommendations. Carefully drafted legislation might even provide more jobs in on-the-site skills, by discouraging prefab components. BP – any suggestions?
    Ditto the planning system. Isn’t the regional/local central planning mad? What’s wrong, or even particularly right-wing, about suggesting that local democracy would lead to better planning?

    The thing is, if we laugh the whole debate off as a nonsense because we don’t like the participants, the legislative framework will continue to allow buildings which you, by being a reader of this blog, are almost certain to consider awful. Wouldn’t that be a shame?

  13. May says:

    In vino veritas, indeed!

  14. Bridie says:

    The video made me feel like we were in Braveheart but without Mel Gibson (he would LOVE UKIP!)

  15. Sylvie says:

    Dear Ben, a few years ago I was back in Cambridge for a few days and took the kids on a punt ride. We passed Saint John’s College and Cripps building, where I used to have my rooms. Another punt full of tourists passed by and the guy who was doing the tour pointed to the “modernist monstrosity” that Cripps building was supposed to be. I could have drowned him on the spot. I adored Cripps. Not only because I spent there some of the best years of my life but also because it was so wonderfully designed. I recently read in a book that the wise people of Saint John’s wanted it to last at least 500 years (yeah, not 6 or 7 years… 500). The stone, the windows, the wooden floors: everything was carefully chosen with this in mind. Anyway, my point is that you are absolutely right: a good building is one in which people are happy to live, with an great attention to details and to the life of the people inside… and from that point of view (sorry, guy on the punt) Cripps is perfect, brutalist (brutalist?) as it is. UKIP’s video made me shiver (which was the point I suppose) because of the abysmal lack of culture that make them put in a same bag Norman Foster and the jerks that “designed” the housing towers that are demolished in the film. Terrifying!

  16. scone says:

    Tragically, if you work in a more or less historical style, you get lumped in with Conservatives, Tories, Neo-Troglodytes, whatever. Modernism has always been identified with the Left. Never mind that some Lefties were/are pretty conservative in “personal taste” terms– Orwell hated central heating.

    And anyone who doesn’t fall into line, on one side or another, is out in the cold, with no tribe for protection. Look how Christopher Alexander got beaten up. I don’t think you can escape making political statements in your work. Or in your writing, dress, mannerisms, food choices, etc. Your choices define you, in the eyes of others, at least. The attitude is: “you’re either with us or against us…”

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Syria my heart is bleeding for you

I spent the afternoon in the garden, doing simple things. I cut some hazel rods for the broad beans, and earthed up and planted potatoes. It was a chill, grey day in Dorset. Spring arrives, then eludes us. I had other things on my mind. With the news, that I read today, of the destruction this week of the beautiful minaret of the Umayyad Mosque in Aleppo, my thoughts turned yet again to Syria, and I am so sad I can’t bear it. 

When I was just out of University, a friend and I travelled across Greece and then south through Turkey. In ancient Antioch, modern-day Antakya, I said good bye to Sophie, who was heading back home, and I made my way south into Syria. I was full of trepidation yet found myself in the happiest, most beautiful country that I’d visited in a very long time. There’s something about travelling alone. It’s impossible not to meet people. I’ve never had a kinder welcome anywhere in my life.

It’s a long time ago now, back in the summer of 1994. To be honest the regime was fairly grim even in those days; Hafez al-Assad’s government was deeply repressive, the atrocities of his suppression of the 1982 Muslim Brotherhood uprising in Hama not far from the surface just 12 years later. (Incidentally, the site of the mass burial of the estimated 25,000 people who died there was sold to the Hilton Group, in case you ever had the misfortune to stay there).  Years later I couldn’t believe, in New York, just a few days after 9/11, reading an op-ed in the Times about how firm, how excellent, Assad had been in stamping out so thoroughly this proto-arising of Al Qaeda. Strange how politics works in a city then reeling and still smoke-filled from that dreadful day. 

I will never forget the sight of young school children dressed in military uniform everywhere, at once bizarre and chilling, and a sense of forboding that would grab you from time to time. In those days of course, Bashir al-Assad was nowhere to be seen. The heir elect had been his elder brother Bassel, whose image, like the father’s, was still ubiquitous, unavoidable. But Bassel had died in an accident driving himself to the airport early one morning six months earlier.

It was a curious thing travelling through a country where you couldn’t buy Coca-Cola – the only place in the world I’ve ever been where the familiar logo could not be seen or found. I admit, I liked that. And, well: I loved Syria—the ancient, crowded bazaar in Aleppo; the deserted ruins of Aphamia, even more beautiful than incredible Palmrya; the extraordinary Crac des Chevaliers; dreamy, wonderful Damascus, the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. 

I’ve just spent an afternoon digging out old photos of Syria. My diary’s in London, so I haven’t had the pleasure of curling up and reading that too, but even these little photographs bring back floods of memories. 

Aphamia

The Baron Hotel in Aleppo, where I couldn’t afford to stay but had many happy evenings

Aleppo I love you

Palmyra

Meeting the tent arabs was like stepping back to a different era. I can hardly believe I took this photograph; it belongs to another life.

I can’t explain the sensation of being completely alone in the great ruined city of Palmyra as dusk softly fell and the moon rose and thunderstorms flashed way in the distance across the desert

Palmyra, too, has been shelled and is on the brink of destruction by the Assad government forces.

The backstreets of Damascus

and back in Aleppo

Where are you now?

I didn’t have a lot of time to draw on that trip

A good way of making conversation (their photo is up top) 

At Palmyra

Damascus: the Blue Mosque – one of the most serene buildings I have visited in my life

I know, I know, that buildings are nothing compared with the destruction of life and liberty in Syria right now. And yet there is something emblematic about the collapse of a civilisation that is embodied in its buildings as much as the pain of its people.

Syria, I don’t know what the answer is. But my heart is bleeding for you.


19 comments on this post

  1. Sarah says:

    Thank you, Ben, as always for your brilliant eye and beautiful observations. I don’t think there’s anything contradictory or callous in mourning the senseless destruction of beauty that inevitably goes along with the destruction of human life. My Armenian grandfather escaped the ravages of the Turkish death marches of 1915 via Aleppo–they found respite and eventually salvation there so even the name of the city carries a sense of relief and hope for me. I am so sorry to know what is going on there now.

  2. Janey Pugh says:

    Thank you for sharing this. It is heartbreaking to think of the terrible loss of life and the age old culture.Your work is inspiring!

  3. Susan says:

    You might like Agatha Christie’s book Come, Tell Me How You Live, which describes summers in Syria in the 1930′s living and working on a dig with her husband.

  4. Bing Taylor says:

    Wonderful heart-wrenching photos and I agree, you should publish the watercolours – it might even help to draw people’s attention to the beauty (both human and architectural) being destroyed.

  5. ces says:

    I always love to visit such historical places but unfortunately, I will not be able to see this anymore. :(

  6. Ash says:

    Tragic-I know…Beautiful watercolours-do you still have time to paint when abroad? They’d make a wonderful book

  7. Ben says:

    I am not sure what action we can take. Luckily that’s not my job to decide… I cannot see a clear answer.

  8. Mike says:

    Oh,Ben I understand why your heart bleeds for Syria- it is a tragedy unfolding before our eyes and yet our leaders fail to act. The loss of life,culture & irreplaceable monuments- at moments like this I truly despair.

  9. Isla Simpson says:

    Such a cruel situation. A place that I’ve always longed to visit, I can’t imagine that will be possible for a very long time now. I’m armchair traveling though through your stunning watercolours.

  10. sarah tribe says:

    Bang Bang Bamiyan; Heritage Held Hostage – so said my thesis in 2003. On the brink of going into Iraq, would it be bang bang Babylon next? And here we are 10 years later as Syrian crumbles to the ground but not from our collective memory. Yes the plight of the people must come first but yes, it’s the heritage and history that provides the building blocks for it’s ‘future’. Like you, we found them the friendliest and most charming citizens of any Middle Eastern country (and they all are). Independent travel, hire car, high adventure. Crak de Chevalier castle, (en route to pounded Lattakia) 3 proud brothers had just built an extra terrace on which to woo the tour buses with panoramic views and fabulous Arabic mezze cuisine, Lebanese wine. We loved it so much we returned after our pan-Syrian circuit. Grounded in Damascus due to Icelandic ash cloud I voted we stay and sit it out in Damascus, learn to cook/speak Arabit, out-voted 2-1 we came home by BUS!

  11. Ayse says:

    Your compassion counts a lot. All will come good.

  12. jo says:

    wow ben. those photos. wow.

  13. Peter says:

    I have visited Syria three times and your wonderful pictures bring back memories I have not thought of for many years: the Baron with its gracious Armenian owners, drinks at dusk on the terrace of the Hotel Zenobia in Palmyra, the humbling kindness of strangers. I read and weep.

  14. Emily says:

    Obviously the loss of buildings that Syria has suffered pales in comparison to the horrific loss of life (especially children) but one cannot help but mourn the loss of such beauty, history, and culture.

  15. Elizabeth Barr says:

    It is so hard when the places we love don’t survive our short lives.

  16. Daniel says:

    Dramatic photos. Just the picture I have in my mind of the region. Beirut has long been a destination that has tempted, but eluded me. Just before the trouble started, Egypt came close to a visit but that too didn’t work out. I had to hear about it from people taking advantage of cheap package deals; in light of the unrest. That sort of thing always makes me feel a bit queasy. The situation demands a lot of attention.

  17. A. Stewart says:

    So beautiful and tragic. Only 2 years ago I was being advised by a Lebanese to go to Syria – he said it was the most wonderful country in the region to visit and he and his family always went there joyfully when they left Beirut to get away from the troubles at home. American readers of Vogue may be asking themselves how come the magazine has not commented on this terrible slaughter and destruction in the light of an almost hagiographic article they ran on Assad, his english wife and their children. You won’t find it on their website archive because it was taken down without comment…

  18. What a beautiful and moving post. I have to admit I have hardly given a thought to the destruction of irreplaceable historical buildings but, of course, the people of Syria must be mourning that loss on top of dealing with the more obvious horrors of their tragic situation.

  19. Lucy says:

    Profoundly beautiful, aesthetically and emotionally.

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I didn’t know you but I miss you

I haven’t long to write – because soon I’m off to the station and then to the airport, to Inverness – visiting our projects up there – both the re-working of the castle and the new town of Tornagrain. Today, in the sparkling sunshine, I went for brunch with Maggie to the new ‘Balthazar’, recently opened in Covent Garden as I am sure you will know. I love Balthazar in NYC, and I’d been looking forward so much to a little patch of NYC in London. Will turned up, and a friend of his too. So far, so good.

Hmm. It didn’t have it. Not quite. Did it lack the New York air, the stylish panache of people who really know how to serve? Was it all a bit… fake?  Was it just because I’m off to Gatwick that I slightly felt as if I was at the airport already, in a giant, rather artificial eatery which had rather too many waiters who didn’t seem to know what they were doing? 

And then Maggie and I stepped out in to Covent Garden and I realised how much I hate what’s happened to so much of London. You know, I’ve been trying to put my finger on what has unsettled me about the Maggie Thatcher funeral last week. It was when I looked at a photo of Churchill’s funeral in London some 50 years ago, and which has of course been rather on the mind of the commentari, that I realised what it was.

Here the cortege passes Lutyens’s extraordinary cenotaph, and I realised, staring at this photograph for rather a while, how much I loved the grimy blackness of old Whitehall, in a London that had, of course, only just seen the end of smogs and the clean air act. How white the cenotaph shines in comparison.

And here, from another newspaper, the funeral barge (I may have my facts wrong) passing down the Thames—the cranes all dipping their masts in respect. Much was made of this little detail in the papers. Would Thatcher have achieved that respect? To be honest, I don’t mind one way or the other – you can take it or leave it, as far as I’m concerned. What I was looking at was the empty skyline of London, which I once wrote about here, and the powerful dignity of a riverbank still lined with commerce and industry. 

You can never turn the clock back; I realise.  And – believe me – I think I wouldn’t want to have lived in 1960s London, when being gay was a crime that could still put you in prison (just as a for instance).  I really am happy with the here and now. 

But walking out in to the Covent Garden Market, I took a few photos, and I hope when you see what I’m contrasting them with in a little while, you’ll see what I mean.

Why does every bad cup of coffee in London have to be sold by Caffe Nero or some other ubiquitous chain?

It’s only when you look up that you can still see the London I love.

And so – and so on. I came home and dug out one of my favourite books, Clive Boursnell’s Covent Garden. As a young photographer arriving in London in the mid 60s, right around the time of that Churchillian funeral, Clive realised that Covent Garden market was a fragile thing whose days were passing. Over the subsequent years he took thousands of photographs of the market while it was still the centre of fruit, vegetable and flower sales in London.

I know that I’m susceptible to the nostalgia game – you’d probably expect that by now! But I’m nostalgic not for appearances, as so many people can be, as for use. I remember an old hardware shop in Dolgellau, in North Wales – that my friends Jane, Johnny and I used to know. It had been in continuous use as a hardware shop since it was built in the 19th century. Because of all its fixtures and fittings, the building had been listed – so that nothing could be changed or altered inside. But eventually Roberts Hardware went out of business, and it became a coffee shop or a Wicca centre or something equally grim. As far as I’m concerned, at that point, the building was dead, however much we preserve the cupboards.

When we look at these photos, I think we realise the difference between real, and fake, that troubled me at the very start of this blog. Of course I’m glad that the Covent Garden market buildings survived – in one of the most bitterly fought conservation battles of the 1970s.  But when their life and use and soul has been ripped out of them, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the effort – if the buildings and the city become an empty husk, devoid of meaning?  And looking at the shopping centre that it’s become today – I really do mourn the old market all the more. 

Covent Garden I didn’t know you, but I miss you.


29 comments on this post

  1. robbie says:

    amazing pics, i was in syria in 97 and have the same memories and thoughts as you – what is happening there is a real catastrophe, we were fortunate to see this amazing country before they destroyed a large part of its people and heritage….

  2. Isabella says:

    May as well start getting in the heritage shots of Smithfield …

  3. Daniel says:

    Funny you should mention Flip. I remember going in there as a teenager in the 80′s. I found it eye-wateringly expensive and the atmosphere positively turgid. I came out with a iron on badge that looked like it had been made two days before. It made some of today’s Floral Street shops look like a bargain.

  4. Vicky says:

    As someone who lives in Christchurch, New Zealand and having lost many, many of our beautiful old buildings, believe me, even if you don’t like what has been done to the buildings, it is still wonderful to have them. To look up at them and admire their architecture above the modern signage is better than not having them.

  5. ces says:

    Thanks for sharing the photos especially the pics of London “before”. It’s always interesting to look at a piece of history.

  6. Daniel says:

    Several thoughts. Not really a coherent, pointed argument. Parts of the “new” Covent Garden are better than others. Some times you can turn a corner and gasp, others you tend to cry. As for big budget consumer emporiums; in the UK these can quite often come across as a bit flimsy. Not that I have been to any particularly notable US ones; and I have been to some in Europe that come across as equally unenthusiastic and “unvalued”. As for the old Covent Garden. Some of the photos, to me anyway, betray a note of menace. All that grime and a distinct trace of wry nihilism on some of faces. I do however (I am sure you will be pleased, Ben) really like the Typography on the shop fronts. Which when, even faithfully, reproduced today; falls hollow. I do most of all feel it important to mention that London is not just Zone 1 and has some ever-changing, vibrant localities. On the downside, and it is a big one, I have lost a lot of my passion for London. Maybe it is my age?

  7. Having been lucky enough to attend St Martins School of Art when it was in Covent Garden, I feel unapologetically nostalgic for the way it was. Longacre was full of mid-century Italian caffs, independent bookshops, the wonky floored Cornelissens, Faulkner Fine Papers and the peerless Flip, second hand clothing mecca. When St Martins moved into a banana warehouse in the 70s, there was no reason to alter this beautiful building with its elegant wood and chrome art deco lobby, stairs and offices. The warehouse space above was used for studios and the casement windows provided plenty of light. When St Martins was obliged to move out, the interior was quickly disposed of and the ground floor became an H & M. We like places like Ben Pentreath’s shop partly because there is a sense of what was there before. This is not nostalgia, this is a respect for history.

  8. David says:

    It’s important to separate the smoke-wreathed nostalgia (and these are wonderful old photographs) from the practicalities of finding a productive modern use for these buildings. It’s hard to image Covent Garden still being used as a wholesale market today, with all of the crowds and rubbish and traffic in the middle of the West End. Once the merchants close up their stalls mid morning, the market would empty out and would be empty for the rest of the day. As others have pointed out below, at least Covent Garden avoided the fate of Les Halles, which is the most profoundly depressing part of Paris. Given the prime location of Covent Garden, I don’t think it’s a terrible outcome for it to become a shopping area for tourists within the old market buildings.

    For me, the big question mark is what happens to Smithfield. It’s the last of the wholesale markets left in the centre of town. I love that it’s there, in the same place it’s been for hundreds of years, and yet I expect that in my lifetime I’ll see it move out to somewhere on the edge of town.

    Incidentally, there was a wonderful 3 part documentary on the BBC last year about London’s markets: Billingsgate, Smithfield and New Spitalfields. Highly recommended.

  9. Tom says:

    I moved into Covent Garden a year or two before the market moved out. In those days Covent Garden Area was still a village, full of small independent shops, New Row, had a Bakery, Coffe Importers, Dry Cleaners, Green Grocers etc. Goodwins Court had the wonderful old Masque Book shop, run I think by Alec Clunes, the Odhams building was still there. I could look out of my kitchen window and see the Shell clock and the illumenated sphere of the Coliseum, now blocked out by new tall buildings. I had to fight the GLC to prevent our wonderful Victorian (built 1890) tiny block of flats from being bulldozed, luckily the whole scheme was abandoned, otherwise we would have lost the Wyndhams and Garrick Theatre!! So glad that I was part of Covent Garden then!

  10. bideshi says:

    It smelt of oranges and chrysanths or apples and hyacinths depending on when you went, and there was always an underlying whiff of the gents too. I’m embarrassed to say that we used to stop off there after parties, which sounds a bit Bertie Wooster, but you could get a good fry-up to soak up the alcohol. At least London’ s big enough to absorb a rash of fakery. I wonder if that shop in Tooting with the dentures displayed in china donkey carts is still there? It was in the nineties, though I think it featured in a Martin Parr photograph. But smaller cities suffer most. I remember Vienna when it was full of old clothes dealers, wonderful print and book shops, rather louche knicker shops that were next door to dirndl shops. It was also full of Viennese from central casting, except they were the real thing. Lots of Harry Lime lookalikes and we overheard (eavesdropped actually) a wonderful row between a sixty-something Hungarian countess and her twenty-five year old lover. All conducted in English so that no-one in the cafe would be able to understand it – very Schnizler, very alte Wien. Now the whole of Vienna inside the ring is like a bloody theme park.

  11. Diana says:

    I had the same reaction as Charlotte seeing the pictures of Covent Garden and thinking, actually, you were quite mistaken and posted pictures of Quincy Market in Boston. Virtually indistinguishable. It’s not so much nostalgia I want but I think it’s sad when cities all start looking alike. When I visit London, I want it to look like London — same with Vienna, Florence, New York, and all the other great cities of the world — not a corporate sponsorship.

  12. Adam W says:

    It’s easy for the middle classes to bask in the tinted nostalgia of the past, the reality however for the ordinary folk was very different. How many of the readers of the blog get up at 4.30am to pick up their wares to sell for the rest of the day, live in a probably damp, dirty and sub-standard accommodation by comparison, drink heavily, smoke heavily, never go on holiday, minimal education, never had the oppurtunity to go to University. This was the reality of most of the people working at the ‘Flower Garden’. So while it sure looks real sweet from the perspective of an urbane architect designed abode clad in an eclectic mix of shabby chic with some vintage knick-knacks sprinkled round it for good measure. Try living it. I’m sure you would rather the propserity, opportunities, education that YOU enjoy. Get out there and enjoy the fact the Market is still there – being used, enjoyed, and experienced by lots and lots of happy folks having happy times.

  13. Hitchcock’s 1972 film, Frenzy, is mainly shot at Covent Garden market and is a sort of moving version of this book. A great forgotten film and very evocative of grimy (still post war) London.

  14. Erica W. says:

    One of the things that strikes me is that what used to be purchased in those places (Covent Garden, Les Halles, Faneuil Hall) were consumables — the raw materials for food or clothing (okay and flowers — but lots of the Covent Garden vendors were wholesalers). The things that are sold there now are fully manufactured goods — clothing, electronics, cheesy aprons, cinnabon, what have you. And buying such permanent material goods is now this public, communal act, but the things are still disposable/consumable, so we have all this junk in our lives because we seem to relish the act of shopping in public. We in our cities clearly had a strong attachment to these public market spaces (and I am definitely one of the we), since we insisted on keeping them, and even though some were converted to housing or office space or what have you, we collectively wanted to keep many of them as places of commerce. But society has changed (in the west, anyway) in such a way that we’re buying the same cheap mass-market clothing (from China) and video games (probably also from China) in all these cities rather than buying potatoes and cabbages and chickens to take home and cook and be done with. So instead of some food scraps and bones left over from our shopping, we’ve got comic books and Build a Bears and George Foreman grills and Dockers khakis.

  15. Kate says:

    As a child I remember visiting my Dad who sang at the opera house, it was the late 70′s and early 80′s. Covent Garden was still relatively scruffy and still felt quirky. There was a second hand clothes store called Flip, independent retailers and St Martins Art School had a building on Long Acre. High rents for retailers have helped to make it feel a bit like Bluewater now, still at least it hasn’t been flattened!

  16. divad&kram says:

    Hi Ben. I noticed your comment that “It’s only when you look up that you can still see the London I love.” I wholeheartedly agree with you on this point… As a retail designer and fan of London, I despair when I see the transient monstrosities that design groups are still churning out under the guise of brand. I wonder how many of the store fronts that we see on the high street today will still be around in even ten or fifteen years? Fortunately London’s heritage does still exist, if only after the first floor.

  17. Rosemary says:

    The UK is no longer an industrial, manufacturing, engineering world leader anymore – we have become a tourist destination and as such reflect the things that visitors expect – hence all the coffee shops etc which resemble so many other cities of the world.

  18. jane says:

    agree with your post. the situation isn’t unique to london. it’s evident in most cities as big box stores are slowly but surely taking over the once quaint main shopping streets. king street in charleston comes to mind. the good news is that independent stores continue to thrive: it just takes a bit more work to find them. i know i prefer to visit a city for the local flavor rather than being able to access the ubiquitous retailer of the moment. great post (the covent garden book looks amazing)

  19. Lyn says:

    I would like to comment on the comments here. A little odd, perhaps, but worth noting. I am continually dismayed by comments that say little to nothing following blog posts in general but also those following just about anything anywhere online, no matter how trivial. It’s refreshing to see entries here that are thoughtful, sensitive, courteous, add new perspectives and are generally well written. They add further interest to your already interesting posts. As a subscriber to several design oriented blogs, I find the only comments I read on any of them, are those posted here on your blog. Thank you to all your readers who further enrich an already wonderful blog.

  20. Jill Leman says:

    We do have to be thankful that Covent Garden is still there, unlike Les Halles. As someone who was in London in the 60′s’s as an art student and is still here (!) – I love London. Every time I walk across the Millenium Bridge / in the Parks / streets/ Museums/ Galleries I think how great it is, and how lucky I am to live here.

  21. john says:

    If you are missing the busy goings on and the characters of the old covent garden market, just go down to nine elms. You will find the same hub bub of colours and people. I for one am glad tho that I don’t have to go in to central London to pick up my flowers!
    I see a lot of people having a nice time in your modern day photographs…..

  22. May says:

    Winnipeg’s old commercial district has similarly handsomely substantial – if much later – architecture, and is a wonderful area to wander around, looking up up up. Yes, that Winterpeg, in the middle of Canada, eh!

  23. sarah tribe says:

    In total agreement in the seemingly unstoppable ‘commodification’ of our lives. I hope that having reached saturation point (have we now not?) we can but turn in another direction. Commercialism perhaps but a much more honest wholesome approach. ‘Our Norfolk’, my online county guide, remains resolutely impartial, non-commercial and ad-free. As a result, some people find this scary because they can’t work out ‘the catch’ – there isn’t one. What am I trying to sell? It is compiled to help visitors to 3 Norfolk establishments make the most of their stay. I garden too which puts food on the table. I’d like to think my guide’s helping to start to steer that turn.

  24. Vincent says:

    A wonderful post about an eternal phenomenon. For even as we speak, there’s some corner, some district, some piece of terrain whose days are numbered; perhaps to be commemorated in prose, verse, photographs; or just memory. And so it has ever been.

    The times I have lived in, from the Forties onwards, are swallowed by history. They are made into costume dramas whose designers do strenuous research, scouring the books and film prop stores for authentic paraphernalia, manners of speech. But fortunately we have the actual movies of those times, and we have memory.

    There is continual loss. And there is infinite creativity to replace it.

  25. Sheena Ward says:

    Dear Ben, hello, I am quite new to your blog, and am enjoying it very much. This post so thought-provoking …. a few of my own thoughts to share for what they are worth. I grew up in the suburbs of south London in the 60s and 70s, and remember so many things now gone. But one of the remarkable things about London is the constant change – it never stops. Somehow it just keeps on going. When London was in the grip of the new-fangled railways our dear Southwark Cathedral was almost strangled by railway bridges into the new London Bridge Station. Yet still it remains, despite the quivering and shaking of everything around it each time a train thunders in. And if you take a right turn out of Southwark Cathedral onto London Bridge Road and walk for about a minute to Borough Market, we can today see the very last few days of the old market, now swept away, and in its place clean and ordered stalls which somehow just don’t feel the same, to me at least. Walking through the market along to Bankside is an area of old warehouses, now very smart apartments, and if one keeps walking west along the river we will come to Tate Modern – in my view a magnificent use of a redundant power station. And right now, at the end of Bear Gardens an archaeological dig is taking place unearthing the Elizabethan Rose Theatre. So, we dig deep and preserve, we re-use and re-invent. And then of course, St Pancras – now a very beautifully preserved building. I do agree with you regarding the characterless shops, and for me, I just refuse to go inside them. Thank you for sharing the beautiful book on Covent Garden. May I recommend ‘The House by the Thames’ by wonderful historian Gillian Tindall, and also two little pamphlets by the Canon TP Peters (probably out of print), on Winchester Palace and Southwark’s historic chapter house. At the end of the day, I will always love London, and will always celebrate all that is wonderful about it, just as you do in your blog.

  26. Pippin says:

    Sadly much of the atmosphere has gone – what makes London unique anymore? I was in London on Saturday, mainly window shopping, but I was disappointed how few unique shops there were. Nevermind though, I found some things to distract me browsing along Pimlico Road and renewing my acquaintance with the National Gallery. However the Underground stations (at least those with their original tiling and labyrinthine passages) still deliver a wonderful kick of nostalgia for authentic, atmospheric, and grimy old London.

  27. Siobhan says:

    Hopefully the same does not occur to Borough Market. The property development of the area is def. furthering the “gentrification” of the area with the loss of interesting shops and markets such as Bermondsey. I loved going to the area early Friday mornings in the mid 90s. Ironic how people want to move to these areas since they are/wer so vibrant and full of character while at the same time they further its death. Tough situation.

  28. Charlotte K says:

    Commodification–what I really don’t like is that then all these places then, worldwide, look the same. Quincy Market in Boston, also saved by being commercialized, doesn’t look that different from Covent Garden, and with some of the same shops. Doesn’t matter what city you go to in America, you will see this. At least Boston managed to save the Haymarket around the corner.

  29. Sylvie says:

    Dear Ben, the same thing applies to the Halles in Paris, once dubbed “Le Ventre de Paris”, it was destroyed and replaced by a monstrosity devoted to high-street brands. This nonsense is now being destroyed and replaced by much the same thing, only more modern… and as meaningless as an urban space.

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