Architects Allford Hall Monaghan Morris have been busy along Whitechapel Road recently because not only is Tower Hamlets Town Hall one of theirs, so is this. It's located immediately opposite the Whitechapel Gallery and is a repurposing of the former Cass School of Art and Architecture into a modern office block. The overall idea behind the rebuild was to imagine inverting the original six-storey building and plonking it on top as a kind of structural reflection, and then adding an unusual banded artwork around the middle. I didn't get a decent photo of the exterior because of awkwardly placed sunshine so you might want to look at the project page for that, but stay with me for a tour of the interior guided by the actual architect. "I wouldn't have called it The Rowe", he said.
The enormous loopy sculpture hanging in reception reflects the textile businesses over there in Spitalfields, you can actually sit in this one, no really lots of people have, we made sure it was strong enough. The lifts are all colour co-ordinated, it adds some visual character to each floor. Look at these surfaces, everything's quite pared back in here. The building used to have a central atrium but we had to fill that in with a supportive core to make sure our 6th floor intervention worked. I hope this door opens, yes, come out and take a look at it. This terrace goes all round the building, it's a kind of dividing line. We're particularly proud of the enamel artwork that snakes round the entire ceiling, it was designed by Yinka Ilori and created on the Isle of Wight by the same company that makes tube roundels.
This outside terrace on the 11th floor has great views, I hope it's unlocked, yes come and take a look across Spitalfields and the East End. Tower Hamlets wouldn't let us build too high, we had to be a stepping stone from the Aldgate cluster down to the conservation area round Altab Ali Park. The roof terrace is amazing and everyone in the building will have access to it. This side has a greenish pergola, that side has a long green wall and the rear has a gathering space where you could come and do yoga first thing in the morning. We tried to make the glass as unobtrusive as we could. That circular skylight above the lift lobby is called an oculus. And although it's been on the market for months no company's yet agreed to hire it out, but yes a client is in talks so you picked a really good moment to enjoy a look inside.
At the top of Vanbrugh Hill, just east of Greenwich Park, the trio of architects brought in to create a postwar council estate had an impeccable pedigree. They were Chamberlin, Powell and Bon, the practice who also designed the Golden Lane Estate (before) and the Barbican complex (after). What they came up with here was a unique mix of houses, maisonettes and flats which ultimately appealed so sufficiently that some of the original residents are still in situ. For Open House four residents welcomed visitors into their homes, or at least I think it was four because it was more a game of 'spot the green bunting' which across a seven acre site soon got a bit tiresome. I managed two.
Garages were still important in the 1950s so they built three rows and then dropped a chain of two-bedroom maisonettes along the top. These are really airy and light, like living off a conservatory, thanks to some well-positioned skylights. The second bedroom wasn't especially enormous, or maybe that's because in the 'show flat' I saw it was kitted out as an office. The owner clearly loved living here because he had assorted historical paraphernalia lying around (you can see similar and better on the estate's website, and maybe get a little jealous).
Over in the single tower block, called Westcombe Court, it was a very different affair. The flat's owners were midway through a total refit which appeared to involve ripping out everything that wasn't a load-bearing pillar and repurposing the (fairly minimal) space to their own preferred floorplan. Sheets and cables were everywhere, the tabletop was covered in potential tile samples and the only area that was even approximately finished was the bathroom (because priorities). They also recommended we go see the view from the seventh floor before we left, which I'm not sure the uppermost residents appreciated but wow, Kidbrooke poked up one way and Docklands shone the other. While the lifts still work, what a place to live.
Thamesmead's iconic Southmere Lake - the 'Flatblock Marina' - has been the setting for such cinematographic delights as A Clockwork Orange, Beautiful Thing and the C4 series Misfits. Much of the surrounding housing has since been demolished and replaced with something any location scout would ignore, but the community centre/bar/social club on the northern bank survives intact. It has however been repurposed as creative studios under the Bow Arts umbrella, because my local arts hub insists on spreading its regenerative fingers almost everywhere. And on Saturday they held their annual Open Studios event so I finally got to go inside the concrete bunker where Sandra pulled pints and Curtis rewound time, and stood properly on top of it too.
It's a very Bow Arts kind of building, in that the interior is a bewildering warren of small studios where artists of all types create tapestries, paintings, carnival costumes, collages, sculptures, whatever. My favourite was Gary Drostle's mosaic studio on the ground floor, one of the larger spaces, where several beautiful mini-tiled commissions were mid-creation. If you live near North Walsham look out for a multi-coloured swooshy number coming to the marketplace before the end of the year. Elsewhere Amanda Eatwell was thrilled to get an audience for her photos, the cafe was being used as a sparse exhibition space and several artists had bunked off early for a beer and/or hot dog in the courtyard.
The architects who enabled the transformation also accented the building with a series of structuralinterventions in a signature bright orange colour, very much the shade of a Misfits jumpsuit. These add a visual frisson to Lakeside's lakeside terraces, and seem to have generally avoided the goose droppings that plague much of the water's edge. Yes it's a bit sad that it isn't a community centre any more, more somewhere that only some of the community use, especially given the new Peabody replacement is a soulless pile on the opposite site of the water. But it is still here and no longer derelictly empty, so hurrah for open spaces, Open Studios and Open House.
Sorry, I've finished all three of my write-ups today, so if you've got used to coming back during the day and finding something extra to read that won't be happening, plus that's my Open House reportage finished for another year so if you wanted to hear more about the nine locations I never wrote up that won't be happening either, they weren't interesting enough, plus my album on Flickr has somehow reached a full complement of 90 photos, and tomorrow I have to find something else to write about again.
Over the years I've been round ten London borough town halls as part of Open House but never my own. That's because Tower Hamlets' was a hired fortress close to the mouth of the Blackwall Tunnel and no great architectural shakes. But the council's just moved into a new base in the heart of the borough on Whitechapel Road inside the original incarnation of the Royal London Hospital, and the borough was therefore very keen to show the place off. Hourly tours of a landmark building led by the chief architect is almost as good as Open House gets.
It was Lutfur Rahman's idea to repurpose a vacated Georgian hospital into a civic centre, snaffling it off the NHS for a knockdown £9m. All the nitty gritty planning and construction got carried out under his successor John Biggs and then, after his seven year enforced removal from politics was complete, Lutfur swanned back in time to get his feet under the Mayoral desk. We didn't see his office, which apparently is in the former hospital chapel, but we did get to see the amazing transformation wrought during an efficiently brisk circuit of the building laced with plenty of inside detail.
From Whitechapel Road you'd almost not know anything had changed, bar some gold lettering announcing this as the Town Hall. That's because the retrofit retained the shell of the 1757 hospital as well as the facades of the later wings added to either side. One of these, the Grocer's Wing, is now the chief public space within the building, although I confess that as a local resident I hadn't realised it was OK to just wander in. Nor was I prepared for the size of the void beyond the sliding doors, it's absolutely massive and it continues up some steps and along the rear of the building too.
This J-shaped area is also lined with bookshelves because the architect said she was tasked with creating a library space here, despite there being an award winning 20 year-old Idea Store immediately across the street. It'd be ridiculous to close that - what were they thinking? - hence all the shelves are empty and the public space is something of a damp squib. Apparently a cafe is due to open at the far end later in the year and they're looking into alternative temporary uses, but in the meantime there's not much to do here bar attend an event, inspect the ship's badges or pass straight through to the hospital beyond.
Oh, and stare in admiration at those original 18th century walls which have been retained on all sides and now find themselves inside the new building. This edifice is a seriously striking feature, all heritage brick and geometric windows, plus an arched doorway the architects only discovered after ripping off all the NHS fascias. If you're one of the 2400 council employees assembled here you might find yourself working in the old bit or the new bit, so at the upper levels overbridges now connect the two. Tower Hamlets saved a lot of money by closing its five former council hubs, in case you're wondering how a local authority ever afforded something that looks like this.
At the focal point, where the main entranceway feeds through from the high street, a security guard keeps watch from behind an unnecessarily high desk. That entranceway used to be the hospital's reception and is now a broad passageway, pleasingly busy the architect said, enlivened by pillars painted "unexpected red". We also got taken into the Residents Hub where I might expect to end up if I were ever made unexpectedly homeless, hence the surfaces in there are particularly resilient to citizen fury. Given the need to cram in office space it's impressive how much of the ground floor remains publicly accessible.
Crucially the council chamber is accessible too, or at least its windows are, to create a deliberate feeling of permissible citizen scrutiny. Architects AHMM are particularly proud of the coffered ceiling, a waffle-shaped chunk set in situ which helped get the building shortlisted for the 2023 Concrete Society Awards, and their ribbed timber walls also impress. But the lack of fixed furniture - a deliberate decision to use moveable tables and chairs instead - gives the interior an oddly bland feel like a sixth form college classroom. Only the Chair's bench and public gallery can't be wheeled away.
The lifts, for those with passes, were deliberately positioned by the stairs to give people a simple chance to take the healthy option. Both of the main hospital staircases have been retained, one at each end of the building, with the asbestos-free flight glowing up particularly well. We were led up to the 3rd floor because that's where most of the quirky stuff is, bypassing a heck of a lot of mundane meeting rooms, seminar spaces and hotdesk warrens. Somewhere in here are the team that coordinate the bins, the department that oversees highrise development and the individual who rubberstamps the Mayor's expenses.
Two of the original 1906 operating theatres, operational right up to the last day in 2012, have been dramatically transformed. One is now a cosy breakout space with matching sofas, terrazzo flooring and an abundance of natural light (because early surgeons needed as much illumination as possible). The other has become an extraordinary meeting room whose table is overlooked by two rather scary 50s-style spotlights, plus a leftover panel on the wall which would once have been used to inspect x-rays, plus a stepped alcove decked out with John Lewis cushions in complementary shades. They've even kept the sign outside that used to be illuminated only when the laser was on, and now glows permanently yellow.
The East London Mosque isn't far down the road but it does get very busy so the council wanted an internal prayer space to efficiently support the devout. This has been fitted into the prime attic space behind the pediment, indeed immediately behind the building's clockface which additionally doubles up as a circular window. The room's multi-faith, not just for Muslims, but you do have to take your shoes off and pass a shower area for "male ablutions" before you reach the soft blue carpet.
The architect got a little round of applause at the end of our tour, in part for her enthusiastic delivery with barely a moment wasted but also I suspect for the building itself. It's much better than it ought to be, perhaps even inspirational, such that even if your job's miserable it's not the working environment that's primarily to blame. It's also almost unrecognisable from the inside, so much so that I couldn't tell you which passageway a porter once pushed me along to get a scan, nor locate the room where I once watched Bargain Hunt while waiting to be discharged. But from the outside it's so coherent I can now point out where the operating theatres used to be, and I will no longer be so reticent to go back through the main doors and gawp again.
Sorry I'm still not done, I have three more reports to bring you, but you really ought to be used to me rabbiting on about buildings every September by now, and somehow my album on Flickr now has 80 photos in it, many from Tower Hamlets Town Hall, and deep breath because we're nearly there.
Yesterday's Open House tally was eight.
Here's a quick summary.
• The pricey building where I carried on climbing past the last public room and accidentally ended up in an attic space where a private group were celebrating something, so retreated rapidly.
• The terraced house transformed by its architect owners into a colour-supplement-friendly void, even down to the Ottolenghi cookbook, although apparently it took them five years most of which they spent lodging with the mother-in-law, and while I was putting my shoes back on their nextdoor neighbour arrived home and unlocked his door revealing bog-standard plasterboard which is the ungentrified house-share reality hereabouts.
• The landmark building where I was convinced there might be a queue so arrived early, unnecessarily because at that stage I was the entire queue, and in the end we set off late waiting for sufficient people to turn up.
• The much-loved building where everyone else was arriving for a tour and dashed through to hear a volunteer read a prepared speech, while I stayed in reception and enjoyed a one-on-one chat with the managing director.
• The bombed building where the first sign that a deluge was approaching was that a Health and Safety poster started flapping, and by the time I got outside summer had precipitously ended.
• The cosy building where one of the other people on the tour asked a question about external access, so the volunteer said "well why don't I show you?" and opened a small door and led us down a narrow staircase lit only by our smartphones, and eventually we stepped out into what used to be the car park and that answered her question, and only on the way back in did we discover that the stairs had a light switch after all.
• The boozy building where Open House signage was non-existent, but it was in fact fine to walk past the beers and Sunday roasts to a dingy space screening a powerpoint presentation where the slide changed five times slower than my reading speed, watched over by a cliquey in-crowd gossiping behind me, and I decided I might not come back to watch them perform.
• The historic building where the volunteer dragged out the tour for so long that by the time we reached the final plaque the kettle had been unplugged and the refreshment-making paraphernalia locked away in the cupboard and I'm still not sure if there were biscuits or not.
Let's do five of those in more detail (not necessarily in the above order). (I'm saving one, and the other two I'll spare you)
London's not well-blessed with working men's clubs but sometimes a pub just won't do, what you want is a social safe space where activities and friends are more important than overpriced beer. Here on the north side of Newington Green the Mildmay Radical Club has been delivering since 1900, although it officially dropped the radical tag a while back and opposition to the Boer War is no longer committee policy. Open House is essentially an opportunity to recruit new members, yes we have four bars here let me show you. Out back is a cavernous room with nine snooker tables watched over by a four-faced clock from Woolworths, up top a large hall and their pride and joy is a sprung dancefloor in front of a glittery stage where you could still imagine Double Diamond being brought to the table in dimpled glasses. Film crews, unsurprisingly, drop in a lot when making gritty period dramas. Around 1400 men and women are currently members and they're actively looking for more, young and old alike, so if you're approximately local this might be the social breakaway your life is missing.
This independent jewel has been bringing joy to East London since 1901, initially as a music hall, later a bingo hall and since the 1980s as a proper theatre. It's particularly well known for its panto but comedians, opera companies and beardymen recording podcasts can also fill the seats. Some idea of the sumptuous space within comes from the fussily over-decorated lobby, where a plaque remembers the wad of dosh Lord Sugar gave to help fund a much needed millennial upgrade. But only when you step through to the stalls or dress circle does glitzy gold andred decor really hit, not to mention the swooping scale of the auditorium. Several so-called West End theatres can't hold a candle to Hackney. For Open House we got to wander freely into unlocked boxes, scrutinise the lager selection at the bar and even walk through the private door into the wings and out onto the stage. You don't normally get the chance to stand where Charlie Chaplin, Julie Andrews, Lenny Henry and (just a couple of weeks ago) the Rolling Stones have wowed the crowds, but that's the joy of Open House for you.
In 1961 a disused temperance halloff Upper Street was transformed into a mini theatre for mini people, specifically a marionette theatre targeted at children. The Little Angel's branched out into other types of puppetry since but is still thriving 60 years later and they still put on eight different shows a year, some here and some at the satellite space just up the road. For Open House there was a chance to walk between the raked seats and up onto the stage, past the friendly wolf on Red Ridinghood's bed and into the backstage area. The Little Angel is one of only three UK theatres equipped for dangle-stringed puppets and the only one with a double marionette bridge ("here, come up the steps and take a look"), although most puppetry these days tends to be rod-controlled. Along the side of the building is a workshop where the puppets are made, and it was a real treat at the far end to meet Lyndie who's been here bringing wood to life here since the theatre opened. She showed us her latest mid-carved figure and then whipped out a past character who suddenly sprung to life on the floor, a few deft tugs creating a personality full of grace and charm. I imagine every middle class Islington family with young children knows this theatre exists and treasures it, and the rest of us could so easily overlook it entirely.
Near the top of Ilford Hill, just across the road from the station, is Redbridge's oldest surviving building. Only one of its walls actually dates back to 1145, after the Victorians got a bit too gung-ho upgrading it, but you don't find many religious buildings in outer London which were founded by Norman nuns. In this case that's nuns from Barking Abbey, a mile down the Roding, who established almhouses for 13 penniless men and threw in a chapel for good measure. One original window also survives, unceremoniously filled-in. These days a tour of theinterior includes a lot of features of mysterious provenance ("we're not sure where these stained glass windows came from") ("we're not sure what these tablets are") ("we're not sure if the two stone fish are contemporary") but the two glowing saints at the west end are definitely by Edward Burne-Jones. Ian visited in 2019 and has a much fuller report, but you really want to hear the story from one of the Friends of the Hospital Chapel who can recount all of the ecclesiastical detail in situ. As well as Open House the chapel's supposedly open to visitors on the second Saturday of the month and also for communion on Thursdays, although you risk doubling the congregation if you turn up for that.
The American writer Erik Estorick became interested in Italian modern art while on honeymoon, as you do. He bought a lot of it quite cheaply, because paintings with fascist associations weren't much in demand in the 1950s, and started hiring out his artworks to public galleries. After his death in 1993 his collection ended up at Northumberland Lodge in Canonbury with a selection spread across galleries on three floors. Normally it's £7.50 to get in but for Open House they waived it, and I'm a firm believer that every paid-for attraction will eventually let you in for free so off I went. The upper floors feature drawings, paintings and sculptures, many by Eric's favourite artists, who if you read further might now be considered to be of dubious political persuasion. I confess to walking past the drawings faster than the colourful stuff. And yes it's interesting, and yes the background detail is fascinating, and yes normally the two ground floor galleries aren't between exhibitions, and yes there's a classy little cafe, but unless you're a connoisseur I doubt you'd think you got your £7.50-worth.
Sorry it was a long day and meteorologically sometimes quite taxing, and after I got home I did what I could but I haven't managed to completely finish writing this, I need some sleep, but I will come back and add the last building honest, quite possibly in a day or two's time when nobody's reading it any more, and sorry there aren't many additions to my album on Flickr this time because I'm saving the Photoshop-heavy venues for further posts because I'm not done yet.
Yesterday's Open House tally was seven.
Here's a quick summary.
• The repurposed building indelibly associated with a star architect where everyone had to wear a name badge in case the over-excitable staff wanted to make conversation, but there was in fact hardly anything to see and I was out of there ripping off my sticker within minutes.
• The collection of buildings where it wasn't at all clear which spaces were open or, in one case, how to get past the entryphone up the cracking staircase, but all the inhabitants raved about the place.
• The pioneering building where you had to go on a tour but they didn't know when it might start and didn't say how long it might be, and it was in fact a substantial circuit including three trips in a lift and a chance to spot Wembley's arch while standing beside an office shredder.
• The unoccupied building where the tour group was quite serious and kept asking pertinent questions about load-bearing pillars and cubicle finishes, then sidling off to take photos of the building with flashy cameras, which I suspect the architect was thrilled by.
• The potential building with a map to follow around a not-yet building site, where one of the activities was to tell the volunteer what you thought their pictograms meant.
• The iconic building which was going to be open anyway so hitched onto Open House's coat-tails, and I have wanted to get inside for over 20 years and hey presto, achievement unlocked, even if they no longer have a bar and the view's been demolished somewhat.
• The cultural building where I ought to have hung around for the tour because it would have been fascinating, but instead I free-flowed round the main spaces, the huge benefit of which was getting multiple photos of the glorious space without any pesky human beings in.
Let's do three of those in more detail (not necessarily in the above order). (I was going to prioritise writing about the buildings that were open again today, but alas none of them are)
What Kensington needs, thought 19 year-old Marie d'Orliac in 1910, is an institute to introduce the populace to French culture. Her government agreed and the Institut français du Royaume-Uni was created, doubling up as somewhere for the French-speaking to find learning and literature in their own language. Eventually it needed premises of its own and two townhouses in Queensberry Place were duly transformed into an Art Deco palace of the arts. With appalling timing it opened in March 1939, but survived all that and today is a thriving hub where you might go to borrow a French book, see a French film or eat in a French cafe. It's also gorgeous, of which there is a bit of a hint on the latticed brick exterior but the real 'Mon dieu' is inside, most notably in the library.
It used to be the main reception room, hence the architecturally showy pinky-mauve windows. You enter up an ostentatious marble staircase with the main cinema on the left (originally a theatre) and the library along the landing to your right. It dazzles, or at least it does when the sun's shining, almost like you've entered an Islamic temple in a chateau (although French culture tends to be secular so it can't be that). A huge tapestry covers the back wall, the parquet flooring is no-expense spared and the overhead lighting looks like the Olympic rings coming together during the 2012 opening ceremony (but obviously it can't be that either). And amid all this are French-speakers selecting French library books - history by the far wall, sci-fi in a single case on the balcony - or doing their French homework in the less showy room nextdoor while papa picks out a good novel.
There's a full French flavour to this quarter of Kensington, which lies just south of the Natural History Museum, including the French embassy, a large lyceé and a separate children's bibliothèque named after Quentin Blake. The institiute also houses a proper brasserie on the ground floor where beef tartare is the signature dish, because cuisine is also one of the French arts. If you don't get to Paris enough, and particularly if French cinema floats your boat, you might consider getting your dose of culture here.
The problem with the original London Airport is that it wasn't in London, it was in Croydon, so Imperial Airways built a check-interminal beside Victoria station and whisked travellers down there by train. It was a sleek moderne terminal with direct access onto platform 19, which was also used to speed passengers to Southampton Water to board their flying boat. With appalling timing it opened in June 1939, but survived all that, and when Heathrow opened after the war BOAC switched to luxury door-to-door buses instead. What finally killed it off was the Piccadilly line extension, so the very last passenger check-in came in 1980, and after that the National Audit Office moved in instead. The interior design downfall from sophisticated elegance to civil service austerity was steep.
The NAO undertook another refresh in 2008, which included ripping out the strip lights and restoring the wood-look pillars in reception, also transforming the bay where thecoaches used to park into a brightly lit canteen. But once you get beyond the security gates and the terrazzo staircase it's all hotdesks, breakout spaces, swipe-through doors and banks of grey recycling bins. Numerous posters from the golden age of air travel adorn the walls because the NAO relishes its history, but also exhortations to pre-book a desk before you arrive and scrappy notices explaining how to unclog the photocopier. Even the former boardroom on the 7th floor of thetower has been transformed into a bland workspace, as we saw on the tour, but the walnut veneer has been retained and if you look out of the windows the view spreads from Victoria Coach Station to the suburbs.
On one side there's a fantastic view down the railway tracks out of Victoria, a surprisingly broad ribbon that weaves off towards the Thames. This would have been the path of all those BOAC travellers preparing to jet off to the Empire, departing the building through a special gateway which (as we were shown in the gloomy basement) no longer exists. Further along a utility corridor (signed "Do not enter under any circumstances") is a wooden hatch through which airmail letters and packages were passed, because the world's first passenger air terminal didn't just transfer people. You never quite know where these tours are going to take you, nor how massively the building may have changed by the time you see it.
The New River has been aqueducting drinking water into the city since 1613 and terminated at New River Head, a waterworks off Rosebery Avenue in Finsbury. Most of the site is now luxury gated flats, alas, but the coal-fired heritage corner has become increasingly derelict while Islington council searched for a better use for it. Meanwhile the Quentin Blake Centre for Illustration had been looking for a permanent home... and hey presto, the disused Engine House and Boiler House will make an excellent set of galleries and learning studios. For Open House we were only allowed to roam the exterior (beware uneven surface), inspect some drawings inside the windmill base (caution low lighting) and enjoy Chenyue Yuan's 25m-long historical mural in the coal stores ("The stream ran gallantly into the cistrene"). They have a lot of work to do so the intended opening date is 2025, but expect this space to draw you in.
I probably won't write a paragraph 2.
Sorry it was another long day, not to mention increasingly warm, and I have to go out and do all this again today so I haven't managed to completely finish writing this, I need some sleep, but I will come back and fill in the gaps honest, just like I eventually did with last weekend's reports, you probably haven't noticed but I did finally get round to it even though hardly anyone's reading that far down the page any more, and in the meantime I've put even more photos into my album on Flickr, putting the new ones at the start for a change, so you can see some of what I haven't written about yet.
