‘On a dark and winter’s day walking round Port Sunlight
Half factory, half village, all about us in the gentle rain
A day of talking quietly, unfolding curiosity
Together like our early days, out finding a sense of place.’
‘Together on my birthday, out finding a sense of place.’
Realising I haven’t had a day off working for two weeks, when I get up on Good Friday and the sun’s out, I go out too. Walking to town on one of my circuitous routes. Beginning a few roads from where we live in Wavertree.
So just a couple of hundred yards away from always busy Smithdown is this peaceful stroll.
The day dawns sunny, unlike the deluges of yesterday’s post and it’s nearly time to set out on Part Two of our weather interrupted tour of Liverpool 8’s bollards. This one walking through Lodge Lane to Granby and Canning.
Before we do, a couple of clarifications in response to discussions over the past day or so on Twitter. Firstly I don’t for a minute think that ridding Liverpool 8 of its bollards is the most important issue facing society or even Liverpool 8 today. Of course it isn’t. But I am pointing out that there are rather a lot of these bollards, most of them have been here a long time, and I think we should consider getting rid of most of them as they are producing arid and blocked off neighbourhoods. Blocked off for reasons of authoritarian convenience, bordering on social control as I pointed out yesterday.
Secondly, I certainly do not want to turn the bollards into any kind of art project or even any kind of campaign. After what I’m about to write I will have had my full say on Liverpool 8’s bollards, and I’ll move on to other things. So let’s get going.
Now you may remember from yesterday’s post, which was mainly around the Dingle and the Welsh Streets, the beginnings of a theory that there are bollards around the borders of Liverpool 8. But can this be true here too? Continue reading “Now With Added Bollards!”
I’ve just finished reading a book about architecture and urban design that I quite enjoyed. At first I set off reading it at a great pace, describing it to Sarah as ‘thrilling.’ In hindsight that was probably because the author was describing walking around places that I’ve walked around myself. He was having similar opinions to me too, which also helps generally.
But as the book wore on I found myself tiring. Doing imaginary walks around places I’ve never been and, I felt, focussing too much on aspects of architecture and not enough, for me, on the lives people are living in the places.
So in the normal course of events I wouldn’t have bothered mentioning the book on here. But towards its end, when he reaches Belfast, he makes an extraordinary claim: Continue reading “A new kind of bleak?”
It makes obvious sense that the people who live, or are about to live, in a place that’s being built or radically changed should have some say in its design. But although it makes obvious sense it hardly ever happens. We’ve all been to or heard about ‘public consultation’ events where a community is shown what are effectively final drawings and are told what will be happening and when by housing officials who expect them to then be grateful – or at least quiet.
Well we were once a part of something that attempted to change all that, on quite a large scale, wonderfully.
Let me tell you about ‘Places by design’.
Beginning in 2001, around the same time as all that social enterprise work I wrote about in the last episode, people start arriving from all over Britain and Northern Ireland at a country house near Chester. Groups of people from up to 5 or 6 places at any one time. Places in the process of change. And over the next 3 days, at a more or less free event, they learn from each other, us and the other people they work with – urban designers and architects – plus the places we take them to visit, about how to be properly involved in the changes about to happen in the places where they live. Not just about how to respond to the plans of others, but how to create their own proposals and take part in something we all eventually call ‘Community led design’.
Over the next four years many of these events are run and hundreds of people come on them. It’s often hard, messy and emotional work, with so many people from so many places in one place, at the same time. But practical learning gets done, eyes are opened, minds are changed and, eventually, places are changed and buildings are built, in ways different to how they might have been if the community hadn’t got involved.