Paradise Place Birmingham 2007 by Martin Hartland
My visit to Birmingham last month was the occasion to take the pulse of the city and revisit some of its architectural landmarks. I was naturally drawn to the closing evening of the Flatpack festival where three documentaries were shown to celebrate the life and work of John Madin, the Birmingham architect who is responsible for so much of the city’s post-war redevelopment. The screenings were followed by a panel discussion which was timely for one important reason: his creations are now bulldozed or threatened with iminent demolition. The BBC Pebble Mill and Post & Mail building have gone already, and more worringly the Central Library is next on the list.
Birmingham’s tumultuous relationship with modernism began in the 50s, at the time when numerous Victorian buildings were targeted by policy-makers on the grounds of unsoundness and inadequacy. One must acknowledge that the language of brutalist architecture demands a bit of getting used to: born out of utopian and visionary schemes of functionalism and segregation of traffic flows, it has resulted in monumental slabs of raw concrete, varyingly described as inhuman, insensitive or lifeless – not to mention the ‘urine-scented’ underpasses. Modernism is still the subject of a fierce debate, particularly in conservative England: between those who feel it is ugly and irrelevant, and those who feel that by erasing all trace of it we are in danger of blindly repeating post-war mistakes.
Nonetheless, the films presented here were an interesting occasion to put in perspective yesterday’s grand plans of tabula rasa for a clean and efficient urban system lasting “for the next 100 years” with today’s conception of modern ‘urban living’: new, shiny, glazed – and disconnected from the past, thus raising interesting questions about the changing notions and purposes of urban planning and architectural heritage. One major theme that came through during the public discussion was the increasing re-purposing of the city as a haven for shoppers and consumers rather than a public space owned by its inhabitants. Hailing a newly built shop [Selfridges] as the icon of a city bidding to become the 2008 European Capital of Culture was clearly a twisted symbol, for the very idea that consumer culture is rooted in the world of illusion and ephemera. Incidentally, the Bullring and the surrounding shopping area have already aged dramatically in their very short life.
I’m still grappling to understand the city’s attitude to the idea of architectural legacy; Why this constant need to reinvent itself? It’s as if Birmingham was somewhat ashamed and unable to come to terms with its past, and that only by erasing it, it could move forward – the city’s motto.
In the case of the Central Library, the council’s claims of structural issues look at best quite shaky and disputable, at worst more like an attempt to disguise a shift in architectural taste. Razing a building because it has fallen out of fashion is is not just short-sighted, it is expensive – especially at a time when many parts of the city are neglected and could do with a refurbishment. The recent ruling of English Heritage in favour of the listing of the Central Library came as a blow to the council’s plans. Yet city planners have also argued that the Central Library was an obstacle to the realisation of a east/west trans-urban axis. Obstruction? They have a point: as a place for free thinking and enlightenment in such a central location, the library is an obstruction to profitable shopping and spending. Alas, the latest wave of urban regeneration seems more driven by commercial motives than a genuine concern and respect for the wellbeing of people.
Six Men: John Madin, architect (BBC2, 1965, 30 min)
Friends of the Central Library
The Guardian – Society | Razed Stakes
