The Rush - Birmingham 2001

Scene 1 - The Ramp

" WOULD ALL MEMBERS OF THE PUBLIC, FOR THEIR OWN
SAFETY, KEEP TO THE LEFT SIDE, WHEN MOVING ALONG THIS RAMP!"

Says the electronic voice that issues from speakers that are suspended
above the seething mass of people that make up the living surface of the ramp.
The ramp provides the setting of numerous collisions as programs of shopping
and travelling co-exist in the same place, in that the shopper suddenly finds more
people to avoid as they walk up New Street. Conversely, the traveller is suddenly
confronted with a moving wall of people, as they reach the base of the ramp. On
the ramp itself, the flow of those travellers merges with the flow of shoppers,
moving up in to the Pallasades, causing friction as the 'rush' to catch trains
'collides' with the slow amble of the browsing shopper.

Scene 2 - McDonalds
A white line drawn down the centre of the ramp tries to order some of the
chaotic flow. In order to assist this, signs and electronic voices constantly remind
pedestrians to keep left. Half way up (or down, depending on your direction of
travel) Mc Donald's happens! What seems like hundreds of people spill out, laden
with flimsy 'Coke' cups, and 'Big Mac and Fries' in brown paper bags. Whilst others
stand in the doorway eating or talking on mobile phones, all interfering with the
hoards of people who seem to be constantly moving up the ramp. On exiting
McDonalds, it is bad luck if you actually want to go down the ramp!

Scene 3 - The Pallasades

After recovering from the McDonald's incident the stampede encounters
smaller incidents as activity at shop-fronts interrupt it.
At the top of the ramp two large overhead signs welcome you to the
Pallasades shopping centre, well, one actually as the soign to the left hand side is
obscured by the concrete canopy that projects out over the ramp Predominantly.
'Woolworths' dominates the left-hand side of the tunnel which is the entrance to the
Pallasades. with women standing outside with kids in Prams as their friends are
inside. On the opposite side it 'Newlook' with its extension over the high level
walkway, situated at the head of a stairway, linking the shopping centre with
Stephenson Place below. The head of the stair forms a flashpoint as people stand
and wait to get a clear space to be able to move down, at the same time as an
almost constant onslaught of people climbing up to avoid having to contend with
the ramp. More groups of young people stand guard on the entrance chatting to
their friends on mobile phones, blocking the path for those who want to go inside.
The Newt is a pub that has its entrance on the ramp although the pub is situated
on the lower level. The ramp entrance merely takes you down two flights of stairs
to get to the entrance lobby.

Scene 4 - In search of New Street station

At the end of the tunnel, the ceiling height rises to a double height space,
where on the ground the chaotic crossing of peoples’ paths breeds more collisions,
near misses, stopping, changing direction, annoyance and frustration! The
constantly moving mass of people in the shopping centre makes railway station is
difficult to find, although there is an overhead clock above the crossroads with
some small signs pointing to different parts of the centre. New Street Station is
identified as being straight on although from this point there is no indication of
anything resembling the station. Following the flow of people being deflected from
one corner to another they negotiate their way around the shop units that block
their path to the void.

Scene 5 - The escalators.

The void in the heart of the scheme is occupied by a bank of escalators
and stairs, forming the link with the railway station below. The top of the escalator
finds people arriving from the railway station, laden with bags and suitcases,
stopping dead, trying to recognise anything that constitutes a sign of a way out.
Much to the aggravation of the ones who do know where they are going, who have
to almost climb over them. Ironically on the opposite side if the escalator void is an
open café which does permit long views to the void from the shopping centre.

Scene 6 The concourse.

The ride down the escalator causes a similar series of events, as people
race down the escalator suddenly to be confronted with seething a mass of people.
Some standing mesmerised by the destination boards as they try to find where to
catch their train. Some distribute promotional goods, some generally mill around.
Others moving from person to person telling the same elaborate story of how they
are homeless and how they need your spare change; all blocking the way for those
who want to get from the city to the train and vice versa. Around to the left and just
behind of the base of the escalator, is the entrance for those arriving by car or taxi,
with the constant stream of 'Black-Cabs' dropping off and picking up. To the left in
front are the ticket counters with the general air of anxiety as people try to get
through the interminable queue to buy their ticket and still be able to catch their
train in time.

On Architectural Education: The journey continues

Following on from my previous post on my journey through Architectural education from leaving school in 1987 to graduating with RIBA Part III in 2001, this is about what happens after. I remember being asked by my Director in the practice that I was working at the time, the day that I qualified, and was awarded the Diploma in Professional Studies in Architecture, the exemption from the holy grail of qualifications RIBA Part III, what makes you different today to yesterday? My answer: today I am an Architect, yesterday I was an Architectural Assistant, I have a licence to practice. However in the context of working within a practice, at that moment in time, it made absolutely no difference to what I was doing on the project to the day before. The difference within the practice moving forward is that I could be charged out at a higher rate than before, and have the recognition when facing clients, that I was now an Architect. When newly qualified in 2001, the skill set was complete...right? Over the past seven years I had worked on everything from developing Analytical tools, Design skills, Technical knowledge, Communication Skills and knowledge of Planning Law, Project Management, Business Development.

Fast forward to 2014, the title Architect is the subject of some debate, whether it be about the misuse of the title within the profession, or the hijacking of the title in its entirety by the IT industry, usually with the prefix Enterprise, Solutions, or any number of IT related titles, or whether it is about feeling undervalued by clients based on the perception that nobody understands what an Architect does. For example, project management, part of the administrative function of being an Architect, is undertaken by construction professionals from any number of backgrounds, from plumbing to quantity surveying, I have worked with some extremely good project managers, I have also worked with a number that have made me think I could do a far better job myself. In some cases I have found myself actually doing the project management work whist someone else has the title.

There are also titles that pigeonhole us: Concept Architect, Technical Architect, Project Architect, Site Architect, Consultant Architect, Chief Architect, Principal Architect, Senior Architect, Junior Architect, Lead Architect...and so on, it seems that the title Architect is not enough to describe what we do. In my career to date since qualification my titles have varied: Project Architect, Associate, Project Manager, Senior Architect, Lead Designer, Chief Architect...I have also moved out of the sphere of the UK based practice, although I had been working for an international practice in the UK, the practice of Architecture was under UK law and in the English language.

Things became interesting when opportunities to stay practicing Architecture during the economic crisis, took me to the place I least expected to be...Saudi Arabia. The first inkling that things were going to be a little different was when I attended the Visa interview in London, I took all my certificates and ARB registration documents with me and was asked what is my highest level qualification. I replied that my highest academic level is a Masters Degree which does not qualify me to practice architecture. OK, we'll take the MA, it is going to the Saudi Embassy, they will not understand the difference, but will recognise the highest level. I deferred to their judgement. Sure enough when the Visa came through it was not for an Architect at all, but for Project Engineer. Now, I know a bit about structures and services, I might even know a tiny bit about mechanics, but would never consider myself an engineer. A brief conversation with my recruitment consultant, revealed that in Arabic there is no word for Architect, the closest being Mohindas which means Engineer.

Sure enough when immersed in the working environment in Saudi Arabia, it appears that all senior construction professionals are addressed with the prefix 'Engineer', which makes things most confusing. The next difference being how an Architect from the UK differs from say India or the Phillipines, hence the titles, Senior and Junior are selected based not on experience but where in the world you qualified. So I came to Saudi as a Project Engineer on the visa, a Senior Architect on the payroll, and assuming the title Lead Designer in the office.

The journey continues, the learning never stops.

Pelican Crossing - Colombo 2010

Away from the traffic is a road that is less heavily used, and forms a complete loop around Beira lake, it is difficult to walk anywhere in Colombo without being accompanied by a self-appointed tour guide who appears out of nowhere the moment you step on to the street, and offers you his life story as well as pointing out things that you can already see. The waterfront to the lake is practically non-existent, looking every part like a once elegant Victorian promenade long forgotten and neglected, where vegetation has taken over in places. The surface of the water along the former promenade is made up of floating plastic bags and debris derived from packaging. Kittens play in a shady corner, whilst pelicans cruise up and down on the surface of the lake, as the sun begins to set forming a dramatic profile of the skyline as the towers along the Galle Road are silhouetted against the evening sky.  In the centre of the lake, Seema Malaka, the Lake temple designed by Geoffrey Bawa, Sri Lanka’s best known architect, and founder of the movement known as tropical modernism. Here the modern temple designed in the 1970s takes on a timeless quality in its serene setting.

I am told that following independence in 1948, much of the British contributions to the city and indeed country have not been maintained.  Here the formerly gentrified areas surrounding the lake bear the signs of long term neglect; trees grow out of the walls of the white rendered buildings resembling the hotels that make up the sea front at Brighton, long abandoned by the gentry. A walk across the busier of the roads, a once grand tree lined boulevard, to Gangaramaya Temple, built in the 1800s, completely surrounded by trees, the air filled with the heady scent of lotus flowers and burning incense, it is easy to forget that you are in the centre of Colombo,  the sound of the tuk tuks and car horns, fades into the background, a sense of calm permeates as the senses, as they are completely occupied taking in the sight of all the intricate carvings in a deep dark wood, my tour guide tells me I can take photos, but it feels disrespectful to do so inside the temple. Outside, numerous Buddha statues, all bearing an orange sash seated in meditation, each next to their own dagoba as though in a class. Overhead, hundreds of flags flutter in the evening breeze, whilst in the courtyard a baby elephant chomps on some palm fronds for her evening meal.

Back out into the deluge of tuk tuks, car horns, dust and fumes, the sun has disappeared below the horizon, leaving a fading orange glow as twilight approaches. Walking once again along the fragments of the broken promenade, a suspension bridge leading to another island in the lake is fenced off, saying that the authorities have absolutely no intention of allowing anyone to get to the island shown as Childrens' Park on Google Earth, or ride in one of the swan boats moored there. The ever present pelican follows, looking very much like a creature from an ancient age of the Earth. The route along the north part of the waterfront is blocked off, so the walking route deviates across a car park to one of the office blocks and through a small gate into the street that belongs to another world. Gone are the signs of Victoria’s Empire, the street is barely wide enough to drive a tuk tuk down, which of course is precisely is what drives down there moving slowly through a stream of local people walking barefoot along this incredibly busy street, in a densely packed quarter of the city known as Slave Island, maybe not all the signs of Victoria have gone.  Curious, friendly faces peer out of shops and houses, evening meals are being prepared giving the air a very appetizing aroma of a myriad of different varieties of curry. The walk inevitable finds once again the road and the traffic, a level crossing with gates that look like they have not changed since 1948, announces the presence of Slave Island Railway Station, an active station looking very much like the ones that did not survive Beeching in the UK. 

The route joins the Galle road and return to Victorian Splendor, the Galle Face Hotel looking every part as though it has been transplanted from Brighton, the green, the promenade evoke memories of growing up by the seaside in the UK. Here the semi-permanent beach cabins of Paignton are replaced by tricycle rickshaws, ‘Walls’ Ice cream, takes its place among a myriad of local snacks, egg hoppers, devilled cashew nuts, sodas available from temporary stands formed by the tricycles. It is a very busy place, the air alive with the sound of the excited exchanges of Sinhalese conversation. The pier, a concrete platform that extends no more than thirty metres into the Indian Ocean, but people still walk out to the end to get a closer view of the sea, begging the question was this once a longer pier that has been destroyed? Or is it one that was intended to be longer and abandoned for some reason?