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Hello sailor: Plymouth, 1966

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This excellent short film from 1966 shows what Plymouth has been up to, 25 years after the blitz which devastated the city.





It's a breathless dash through buildings of houses, high flats, schools, a new civic centre and law courts, roads, bridges, bus and train station. Despite the enormous amount of work that has been completed our narrator is keen to point out how much is still left to do, and how inadequate the building of schools, for example, will be for the predicted population boom of the 70s.





Plymouth did a lot of excellent things. These days the council are quick to turn their back on those postwar achievements. This film reminds us how brilliant many of them were.


Walter Gropius reveals all

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Picture from https://rupalsourendre.wordpress.com/2010/02/24/bauhaus/

Have you heard these fantastic audio interviews hosted by UbuWeb with Walter Gropius discussing different aspects of the Bauhaus and the future of modern architecture. As if tht's not enough, there's even a bonus Mies van der Rohe one too. They're all great quality and in English, a real treat. Mixed in are contributions from other prominent Bauhaus figures too, including Albers and Schoenberg.

There's Gropius on the origins of the Bauhaus (5.34), on form and totality (3.00), on Klee, Itten, Kandinsky, Feininger and Moholy-Nagy (7.27), on Albers and functionalism (3.31), on selection and students (5.03), on Hannes Meyer and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (3.03), on industrial contracts (1.50), on utopianism (2.02), and possibly the best of all, on the future of architecture (3.03). And there's Mies on architecture as language (3.23) too.

Hear them all here.

St Peter's Seminary, Cardross (1966)

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Here is a quite extraordinary film. As Hinterland, the show created in the modernist ruins of Cardross seminary is being performed, this is a film from 1966 of the Seminary in use. What's immediately apparent is how beautiful the building is. The arches, the windows, the concrete, the strange forms and shadows. 





It's a silent amateur film made by Lawrence Russell showing what might be the opening ceremony for the college. Certainly there's a lot of Catholic frocks and bling on display. 

The seminary was designed by the peerless Scottish modernist practice of Gillespie, Kidd and Coia who started work on design in 1953. Work began on the site in 1961, which is recorded in this film. It opened in 1966, and the Seminary closed in 1980, following problems with leaks combined with falling intake levels. After a short life as a drug rehab centre it closed completely by the end of the 80s and has remained slowly decaying in its green belt setting ever since. 





I didn't manage to get to Hinterland, but at least I can enjoy this beautiful film showing the building at its best.



 You can see the film here.

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New Town, Home Town (1979)

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Here's an excellent 1979 BBC documentary about the British postwar new towns. The presenter, Colin Ward, is famous both as a writer on urban issues, and as an anarchist, with a profound distrust of traditional hierarchies. In the documentary he covers Harlow, Peterlee, Runcorn and 'the Muhammed Ali of new towns' Milton Keynes.








It's full of excellent interviews with residents as well as historical detail. We meet an elderly, chipper Frederick Gibberd in Harlow, explaining his philosophy of using the landscape to define the character of the town. Then we meet residets too - young people who liked it, but still dreamed of moving away, and people their parents age who suffered from new town blues and had either adjusted to the slower pace of life or suffered from withdrawal from London.

Peterlee was a different story. The coal mining town suffered almost immediately from the scaling back of the coal industry, and, according to this documentary, turned instead to a rather rose-tinted backward-looking appreciation of mining history. Fears of the death of smaller surrounding communities caused by the creation of Peterlee also played a part in the lack of momentum behind the town. Then there was the estate of Sunny Blunts, with water pouring through the roofs, one of many problems that didn't stop the slow leakage of money from the new town.







Runcorn, a second generation new town, gets more favouable treatment in the documentary, with its figure of eight road layout and frequrnt bus services. Well, all apart from James Stirling's futuristic design for Southgate, which Ward refers to as a colossal ego trip. Southgate was finished in 1977 and demilished by 1992. Watch out for the interviews with the newsagents, which is a social history of tobacconists all by itself.








Finally, Milton Keynes sweeps in at the end as the Joan Collins-style superstar, draping its mink coat on the mic stand and throwing a martini over the rest of the competitors. We travel from those famously controversial early estates of Beanhill and Netherfield to the more desirable (make that middle class) Eaglestone and Fishermead, more typical of what was to come. The whole documentary starts off with a couple being shown round a new house in the town and getting their garden centre voucher. You can see the ambition of the place not only in the helicopter shots of grid roads but also in the plan for the 'new city' (they may even bid for the Olympics, says Colin) where there's much more gloss on display than in the other towns shown.





It's a fabulous documentary. Hard to think of a better introduction to the English new towns, at any rate.

Bill Grundy Looks at Aylesbury (1972)

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These days Bill Grundy is perhaps best known as the man who the Sex Pistols swore at on the Thames Television Today programme on December 1 1976. 'You dirty fucker!' says Steve Jones at one point, after Grundy had tried to sweet talk Siouxsie Sioux. Grundy's attitude is pure 1970s suburban machismo, trying to sneer them to death with various pieces of paternal posturing.


And so it was no surprise to see Grundy here, in 1972, trying out his Terry Scott as avenging uncle act in Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire. In this short Pathe news film he's come not to praise the town and its ambitious expansion plans, but to belittle it with all of the small-minded cliches of the day.




His villain is Fred Pooley, Aylesbury's planner, the man who invented the imaginary Buckinghamshire monorail town in the sixties, which actually became the motorway town of Milton Keynes in the 70s. Pooley was brilliantly talented. Grundy dismisses him as 'smug'– not that we ever get to find out, as he makes no effort to interview him. And so, rather it's Bill Grundy who comes across as smug instead, drinking beer from a tankard and opining about fibreglass ducks and the ills of modern life, while undoubtedly being a major beneficiary of the improved communications and technology of the day in his work as a TV presenter.

There's even a brilliant bit where his critique of the new development ends with an admission that people travelled from all over the country to visit the rebuilt town centre, and that Friars Square shopping centre, which he hates, is very busy.




If Pooley is the villain, it's Buckinghamshire County Hall, the local authority offices where he resides which Grundy reserves his most anger for. The vast brutalist edifice stands there unchanged today, despite his moaning on over forty years ago about how it couldn't possibly last.




And so here we have once again a classic piece of Bill Grundy railing against modern life, the very same modern life that sustained his career. Like punk, brutalism wasn't to his taste. Rather than confirming his opinions, this short film now feels more like a memorial for Pooley's Friars Square space-age shopping centre, partially demolished and hidden under an unsuccessful modern redevelopment.

Thanks to Sid Fletcher of Tower Block Metal for the tip off about this excellent film.

Vision and Reality by Stephen Willats

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It will come as no surprise to anyone who's read Concretopia that I am a fan of first person interviews with people who have created or lived in postwar buildings. The fashion is much more towards the visual: to record buildings on Instagram, for example, rather than to investigate what it was built for or what life is like for the tenants. Not that I have anything against that, of course, I love looking at pctures of architecture as much as the next geek. But I've been pleased to see a couple of recent publications bucking that trend – using visual media to tell the story of the people and the place, rather than simply recording its coolness, or otherwise.

The first was Robert Clayton's bookEstate, about the Lion Farm Estate,  where he'd recorded the lived of residents back in some midlands council flats in the early nineties. And now, just published, is another more extensive art project, by the artist Stephen Willats.


Vision and Reality collects together 22 different projects by the artist, carried out in different estates round the country between 1974 and 2008. Published by the excellent Uniformbooks, Vision and Reality takes the form of photographs and interviews with residents, and each chapter opens with one of Willat's artworks, collages with text, photos and graphics to show the interrelationship between the residents and the way they live in their environment.


The results are fascinating and touching, and remind me slightly of Tony Parker's wonderful classic work of oral historyThe People of Providence, about a Wandsworth housing estate in the early eighties. Here the photos of people and their possessions are presented in a flat documentary style, and the interviews and observations also follow very similar patterns across the decades. And so there are pictures of remote controls, model sailing ships, cookers, televisions, electric fires, nests of tables, ornaments, dartboards and net curtains, beside pictures of residents of all different backgrounds and ages. The responses to the landscape and furnishing of the residents in the accompanying interviews are often hugely insightful and from unexpected angles, entirely disabusing anyone who might wish to dismiss the experience of people in social housing as similar or predictable.



I'd really recommend reading this book if you're into the social history or art of postwar British council housing. One thing I do worry about with the book, though, is from the title, cover and blurb it is very difficult to know what you're getting. I think there's potentially a much bigger readership for this book than the rather enigmatic presentation might allow. Don't let that put you off, though. Here's a list of the estates recorded in the book:

Skeffington Court, Hayes, Middlesex; Friars Wharf Estate, Oxford; Ocean Estate, Mile End, East London; Brandon Estate, Walworth, South London; Charville Lane Estate, Hayes, Middlesex; Avondale Estate, Hayes, Middlesex; Queen Caroline Estate, Hammersmith, West London; Tottenham Hale Estate, North London; Brentford Towers, Hounslow, Middlesex; Sandridge Court, Finsbury Park, North London; Dobson Point, Newham, East London; Farrell House, Whitechapel, East London; Marlborough Towers, Leeds; Lovell Park Towers, Leeds; Homecourt, Feltham, Middlesex; Warwick Estate, Paddington, West London; Saffron Court, Snow Hill, Bath; Linacre Court, Hammersmith, West London; Kelson House & Topmast Point, Isle of Dogs, East London; Heston Farm Estate, Hounslow, Middlesex; North Peckham Estate, South London; Coffee Hall Estate, Milton Keynes.



Vision and Reality by Stephen Willats, published by Uniformbooks, 2016, £18 Paperback

Beautifying Bilston, 1975

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Bilston in the Black Country is one of those areas scarred by the legacy of the Industrial Revolution. It's just the kind of place that planners and landscape architects would love to try to work on. But in 1975 it was local residents were encouraged to turn planner to come up with schemes for beautifying an area which included slag heaps bounded by factories. For their pains they'd win a book token. The charming planner interviewed in this local news report at the time has a few idea of his own: colouring the smoke coming out of the factory chimneys to give it a carnival atmosphere; laying inspiring quotes on the pavement near bus stops; and turning an old gantry into an aviary, or at the very least tacking on some plastic birds.




You can see the news report here.

John Stonehouse was then the local MP, and he made the following statement to the House of Commons on the 18th December 1975. This was only four months after he'd been released from Brixton Prison on remand for faking his own death the year before...

'The area which I represent is called the Black Country. It is called the Black Country for a reason—it is extremely black. It is an area which was blighted by the Industrial Revolution and it has not had enough money spent on it in the past half century to correct the evils that were done to what was once a very beautiful part of the country. The position has not improved in the past 20 years. In fact, it has got worse. Unfortunately, towns like Darlaston, Willenhall and Bilston, right in the centre of the Black Country, are being gradually destroyed by the inadequate attention being given to them by the planning authorities.'

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Women in Construction, 1983

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Here's a terrific glimpse into a piece of social history that is usually ignored – a film made by the much missed Inner London Education Authority in 1983 to encourage girls and young women to consider the construction industry as a profession.




In it they interview all manner of women, from student apprentices training in Vauxhall to established professionals working for private companies or local authorities. They interview bricklayers, carpenters, engineers, surveyors, administrators, painters and decorators, and their views are very interesting.

In most cases the only negative factor was men – the sexist jokes on site and the morale-sapping belief that women couldn't do the job. But on the plus side there's so much here about self-determination, a refusal to see barriers and a desire to use hard-won skills creatively.




It's the early eighties, so preoccupations include the huge level of unemployment at the time and the inequality of women and men in the workplace, particularly financially (which still hasn't changed as much as it should have). It's a curious moment for the construction industry too. Building projects are small scale – refurbishments, shop fitting, community work – as opposed to the giant 60s and 70s local authority schemes they might have once been working on.





This film is a bit of a treat, a subject that could have been dry enlivened by some great interviewees, leaving an enduring record of a moment in time and of an ongoing feminist struggle in the workplace tackled in a can-do practical way.

I'm the Girl He Wants to Kill - Thriller (1974)

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Imagine being trapped in an office block at night, alone apart from a man who wants to kill you. This is the chilling and brilliantly realised premise behind this extremely suspenseful TV film from 1974.





Old Croydonian Brian Clemens, the brain behind The Avengers and The Professionals, created a series of stand-alone thrillers in the mid-seventies, called, erm, Thriller. It followed in the mould of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, each being a mini movie in its own right.




This one, I'm the Girl He Wants To Kill, is one of the most highly regarded of the series. Directed by Shaun O'Riordan it stars Robert Lang as the silent killer and Julie Sommars as his intended victim. I don't know where it's shot or what the building is - any leads gratefully received.





I wouldn't recommend watching this by yourself, it's claustrophobic and exhaustingly stressful, though brilliantly done. The YouTube clip is split into 7 parts, this should be a playlist that rolls between them all.

Ian Nairn in Bristol

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Back in 2014 I was part of a panel discussion about Ian Nairn at the Bristol Festival of Ideas. The other panel members were rather illustrious: Gillian Darley, whose excellent biography had just been released; Owen Hatherley, whose blog posts helped introduce me to Nairn's work back in the day; and George Ferguson, the architect and then Mayor of Bristol.

I've just realised there's a podcast of the event, should you fancy giving it a whirl.

Thamesmead, 1969

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Let's have a tour of Thamesmead in 1969, thanks to those excellent folk at British Pathe. This is unused footage, silent and beautifully shot, exploring the estate when it first opened. We even get to see the 'Balency' system factory, where the concrete pieces used to construct the estate are formed and set.





The first residents moved in in 1968, so much of Thamesmead here is unoccupied, hence the ghost town feel of some of the areas, and the more peopled areas elsewhere.






This is well worth a watch, a glimpse at the kind of vast estate we can't imagine being built in London today.





See also two Thamesmead promo films: Thamesmead 1970 and Living at Thamesmead, 1973.



William Mitchell at work, 1960

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One of the most striking features of postwar architecture and planning in Britain was the use of public art as integral to the design and function of everything from office blocks to housing estates. And perhaps the most ubiquitous exponent of municipal postwar art was William Mitchell, the brilliant concrete sculptor.




His work from this period is immediately recognisable. Usually concrete relief attached to the side of a building, it is formed of primitive marks and shapes built up into large scale decorative pieces, sometimes coloured, often not.




This film from 1960 gives a brilliant snapshot of Mitchell at work on a huge commission for the London County Council for a housing estate in Bermondsey. Mitchell was a design consultant for the LCC from 1957-65, during which time he produced 49 pieces of art for 27 different sites.



It's a terrific short film, full of colour, and is a reminder of a period of great creativity in public art. Also, for me, exciting because his studio would have been round the corner from me in Forest Hill.

Construction of Southern Television Centre, 1970

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The arrival of colour TV signal in the late 1960s led all of the UK's broadcasters to adapt to the new medium. Some, like ATV in Birmingham, LWT in London and Southern in Southampton decided they needed new studios to adapt.





Southern's studios were constructed in 1969 on a concrete raft, like the National Theatre in London, due to their waterlogged sites. Southern Television Centre was built on land reclaimed from the River Itchen, and contained four studios. This film was made by the channel to announce their new studios and equipment, with the odd curious claim attached too: British colour TV might be the best in the world, the announcer tells us. I suppose it might be...





We get lots of footage of pre-health and safety site works, and the new colour TV equipment, from massive cameras, reel to reel audio and the bulging screens of analogue tube sets. There's also some priceless behind the scenes footage of the first colour show recorded there: House Party. Southern were best known for their children TV shows: Wurzel Gummidge, How, The Famous Five and Runaround.





Ultimately Southern lost their licence to TVS in 1982 and in 2010 the studio complex was finally demolished. This film is a nice record of a moment in time when Britain was modernising fast.



Events Summer/Autumn 2016

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I've got a few more talks lined up for 2016...

August:
Manchester Modernist Society
Ten Buildings that Changed Postwar Britain
Thursday 4th August 2016, 6.30pm (Man Met Uni at70 Oxford Street)


How did blitzed, slum-ridden and crumbling 'austerity Britain' became, in a few short years, a space-age world of concrete, steel and glass? Discover the story of Britan's postwar rebuilding in this whistle-stop tour of ten extraordinary, brilliant or downright bizarre buildings that represent the story of this turbulent period of our history, from 1945 to 1979. Travel from the days of prefabs and the birth of the Welfare State through to the concrete brutalism and ambitious plans that changed towns and cities up and down the country with John Grindrod.
Find out more and book tickets here.

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October:
Conway Hall Ethical Society, London
Ladybird Books and Constructing the Future Past of Modern Britain
Monday 10th October @ 7:30 pm - 9:00 pm (Conway Hall, 25 Red Lion Square,London,WC1R 4RL)

Never mind the fairy stories, the much loved Ladybird Books of the 1950s to 1980s reflect much about post war aspirations and reality in new architecture, urban planning, social attitudes and the world of work.
In this lovingly illustrated evening, social and architectural historian and lover of postwar modernism John Grindrod (author of Concretopia) talks us through the dreams and the reality portrayed in the books over the decades. Social and cultural historian Helen Day documents the changing attitudes to gender race and class and Tim Dunn, transport historian, enthusiast and model village expert will discuss the social and design history revealed in the books From People At Work and Our Land In the Making and How It Works…to the changing reality around Peter and Jane.
In the age of the garden bridge, HS1 and 2 and Crossrail and the growth of nostalgia spoofs like The Hipster what do the Ladybird Books reveal about who we are, how we dream and how we live? Chaired by broadcaster Samira Ahmed, presenter of Radio 4’s Front Row. Tickets and more information here.

At least one more event listing to come... Do please come!

Croydon: The High Rise and Fall

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Have you ever been to the Fairfield Halls in Croydon? I absolutely love it. There's the building, of course, with its mild modernism and nod to the Festival Hall. But there's also the amount of brilliant (and sometimes, brilliantly awful) things I have seen there.


There's all the plays I saw with my mum, including the funniest thing I have ever seen, a production of Noises Off in the Ashcroft Theatre, starring Ivy from Last of the Summer Wine. There was an inter-schools Benjamin Britten thing when I was a kid, where I was one of those lucky children singing in the Concert Hall in latin about conquistadors. My main memory is of being shouted at by the conductor for singing flat.

I saw films there like Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, after which mum and I constantly quoted bits to each-other. My nieces have performed Shakespeare there as part of a schools competition. The most recent band I saw was Croydon legends Saint Etienne, which was pure happiness.


Perhaps the most memorable of all those things was Croydon Till I Die, a one off talk that Andy Miller, Bob Stanley and I did in the Arnhem Gallery in 2015. We weren't sure if anyone would come. In the event over 300 people turned up, meaning they had lay out an extra 100 chairs, and the amount of positivity and love in the room for poor old neglected Croydon was really quite something. One of the best nights of my life, if you must know.

Andy, Bob and I at Croydon Till I Die, pic by @maisykungfu

And now it's being closed for two years and refurbished. What happens to all of those brilliant workers, and the audiences who turned up week in week out? The plans for College Green and the Halls are hugely ambitious in an age when local councils have little money for anything but basic services. Anyone who knows the place is worried: that it won't re-open; that it will be a shadow of it's former self; or it will be ruined, turned into flats or left half-finished. Like many thousands of people I love the place. Please don't fuck it up, Croydon.




Back when I was writing Concretopia it didn't seem anyone was interested in Croydon. That was part of the inspiration for writing it: no-one ever mentioned Croydon in books or culture, unless it was a shit joke. Now there's a whole load of National Trust activity celebrating the town's postwar rebuilding and the Fairfield Halls. There are bus and walking tours. There's tons of media coverage. There's a beautiful book celebrating the town and its postwar heritage. The full works. What do I think of it? Great if it gets people re-evaluating Croydon's postwar past, and being more positive about the place. Not so great if all it is is an advert for developers to come and trash the place, in that endless cycle of insecurity that the town suffers, just as Birmingham does too.



A few months back the short film below was made by the Architecture Foundation about Croydon as part of a series about suburbia. I'm one of the talking heads. So that's another thing too. I can't watch it because at first glance I appear to have turned into an exploded diagram of an obscure heraldic beast.

Perhaps the most exciting of all is the rumour of the beginnings of a Croydon Modernist Society. They've started a Twitter account, and promising more news soon. Isn't this great? That's what Croydon needs more of, locals being optimistic and excited about the town, rather than the magic wand of money and influence changing everything top down - or leaving it to fester.





Challenge - A Northern Ireland Housing Trust film (1965)

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This is a fascinating film. It tells the story of the Northern Ireland Housing Trust, made in 1965, before the era of the Troubles completely changed the direction of the country. The Trust ran between 1945 and 71 and was funded by the government with loans repayable over 60 years, similar to new town development corporations.





Politics hung heavy over the Trust. Catholics weren't represented on the board, and some districts would not allow building new estates in their areas, because it might change the political complexion of them. By the mid-sixties a civil rights movement began to call out the biases and discrimination rife in housing, among many other things.





The film is made by the housing trust, and so unsurprisingly paints an entirely positive image of what was going on. We see lots of fascinating postwar housing going up - Wimpey's 'no fines' houses and Laing's 'Easiform', where concrete was poured into a shuttered 'jelly mould' to create a house. There's high rise flats, deck access flats, old people's homes, terraced houses, whole estates. The optimism of the film and the architecture is fascinating.





But the oddest thing about it is how English it seems. The narration, the tone, the lack of any Norn Iron accent or signifiers. It's a film in denial of the place it's about. A strange and interesting record, as much for what it doesn't say as for what it does.




You can see the film here.

This essay by Martin Melaugh is a fascinating history of the Northern Ireland Housing Trust.

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Turn-Up for Tony (1968)

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I'm a big fan of 1960s British Social Realist cinema, and here's a curious offshoot. Turn Up for Tony was made in 1968 by Tyne Tees Television, a dialogue-free comedy like Eric Sykes's The Plank, although this story, about a jobless Tyneside shipbuilder, also owes much to Billy Liar.




Our hapless hero, played by Tony Tanner, is looking for a job. He's also flirting with 'the girl' - delightfully played by Sheila Falconer, who spends much of her time in the most beautiful modernist cigarette kiosk. He vanishes into fantasties - a sophisticated high rise life in the newly built Cruddas Park flats; as a scientist, inventing water (!); and as a super-cool gambling spy, in a spoof of Casino Royale.





It's a very cute little gem, funny (if you like slapstick) and reminiscient of European comedies as much as Britain's new wave. And it's also a fantastic glimpse into T Dan Smith's modernist Newcastle, before the dreams dissipated in the 1970s.

You can see the film here.


Building Brasília

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Here's a clip taken from a longer 1960s US documentary film on Brazil – this section here concerns itself with the building of Brasília, the modernist city. The city was planned by Lúcio Costa and Oscar Niemeyer. There's lots of footage of three of Niemeyer's most famous landmarks: the towering National Congress of Brazil, the extravagant Palácio da Alvorada and Metropolitan Cathedral of Our Lady of Aparecida.





Ignore the terrible, patrician and vaguely racist commentary, on the 'primitive peoples' etc, the footage of the construction of the great monuments of Brasília is fascinating, and it's great to see bits of the city bright and new (well, behind the murk and crackles of the old film stock at least).




Worth a look, even if you have to hold your nose at the commentary.



A Cathedral in Our Time, 1967

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One of my favourite postwar buildings is Frederick Gibberd's Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral, or Paddy's Wigwam.





The circular crown design, its spectactular wrap around stained glass and the dramatic realisation of the form with its diagonal buttresses makes an instant impact, and it's as beautiful inside as it is outside. It's a much more extravagant design than is usual with Gibberd, who while adding decorative touches in his more typical buildings, is also usually rather restrained.





Here, like Spence in Coventry, he allows the 'romantic modern' in him break free. In many ways this was the joy of designing modernist churches and cathedrals, they allowed otherwise rather austere designers the opportunity to display a decorative side they generally kept hidden in their other work.





 In Liverpool Gibberd makes the building itself feel like a small sacred object, like a font, crown or orb, scaled up to an immense size. It's something we're perhaps more familiar with from designs by Oscar Niemeyer than those rather more dowdy British modernists.





This film shows its construction and was made to commemorate the opening of the cathedral in May 1967, and can be watched on the BFI player here.


Rebuilding Nottingham

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Here's a couple of news reports that show the rebuilding of Nottingham city centre in the 1960s and 70s.



The first is a fascinating interview with the architect of the Victoria Centre, Arthur Swift, from 1962. Here the scale of his ambition and that of the council of the day is revealed in the huge model of the new city centre and in the grand sweep of his words. He's particularly obsessed with the recently published Buchanan report, Traffic in Towns, and presses home how the design was an attempt to put the report into practice on an epic scale. You can see the interview here.




There's also an interview with the designer of the centre's decorative clock from 1973. This ATV news report shows the unveiling of the water clock. Rowland Emett, maker of many whimsical kinetic sculptures, created something both fitting and at odds with the new shopping centre. Its ludicrous complexity echoed the extravagant design of the city's new megastructure, but stylistically the throwback Victoriana threw the chunky brutalism of the modern commercial architecture into sharp relief. You can watch the report here.

For some expert writing on Nottingham check out the brilliant Jones the Planner.
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