Monday 20 October 2008

My favourite space

by Caroline Cardus




Can I be greedy and say my favourite space is the centre of Milton Keynes?

Milton Keynes is usually spoken of in derogatory terms when it comes to architecture, but on a clear day the beautiful blue of the sky is reflected in the many mirrored windows on buildings all around the city centre.

Buildings rise high but are ordered along clear lines of sight. The city has much more greenery than visitors anticipate, and it accompanies you as you drive around on the grid road system. Right now the leaves are falling in a myriad of autumnal colours, and when they're gone we'll have the stems of bright red Dogwood lining the roads, creating a beautiful contrast with the green verges.

Grid roads and roundabouts enable people to cross the city by car in around 20 minutes. How many cities can you do that in? Let alone park outside, and *gasp-shock-horro* get into all of the buildings when you're a wheechair user?!

What the charrette gave me

by Sarah Ernst



It was an opportunity to work in a concentrated way exploring an environment with freedom and spontaneity. Through collaboration we developed a simple intervention rather than attempting to create a new space.

Chris Ankin's account of that distant day at Tate Modern

ARCHITECTURE INSIDE OUT

ONE DAY DESIGN CHARRETTE 10th MAY 2008

‘enter this place, that is a joy to us’

That was the phrase to be applied to the design task set to 8 teams of Architects and Disabled Artists at AOI’s first one day design workshop held in the prestigious surroundings of the Tate Modern in May 2008.

For me the initial thought I had upon arrival was along the lines of ‘Good grief, I’m in Tate Modern as an artist - not a member of the public’, to be honest there may have been one or two expletives within that quote that aren’t necessary to repeat here!

Once over that ‘being in awe’ stage, and having been re-introduced to our architectural counterparts in the respected form of Cany Ash and Robert Sakula (of Ash Sakula Architects), Tony Heaton my fellow artist I’d worked with previously at the InQbate charrette, launched into a long ‘think tank’ style discussion about our choice of space and how we should work with it.

We had selected the space which was at the far right corner of the Turbine Hall on a previous half day introductory visit prior to being given the design task. We had to be mindful that when we received the design problem on the actual day, that we may have needed to find another space if the topic could not be applied to our area of choice. As it happened we needn’t have worried.

The space consisted of a set of long wide well spaced steps, alongside a wheelchair slope which gently descended about 80ft with a metal two bar hand rail dividing the two access methods. There was a side wall which incorporated very large steel girders at regular intervals.

I don’t think any of us fully understood why we were drawn to this space right from the early stages, but it was unanimous. We toyed with such diverse ideas as hanging banners, decorating the hand rail, and creating text on the stepped area, as well as various ‘performance’ based suggestions. Tony was drawn to the idea of driving his wheelchair down the steps rather than the intended slope, which had its merits in an anti-establishment rule breaking way.

I should at this point say that any preconceived ideas I may have held about architects possibly being ‘frustrated artists’ that had become restrained by the complex rules of planning law were now completely demolished (sticking with the building theme!). Some of the suggestions these guys came up with were far wackier than ours!

Once given the topic we returned to our space and spent some considerable time trying to come up with ways of applying the statement to the area. In the end the answer was beautifully simple thanks to some basic ‘people watching’. We noticed that folk seemed to naturally gravitate to this area, perhaps as we had done in the first instance. Children would be playing and rolling down the slope, climbing and sitting within the recesses of the huge vertical steel girders that adorned the side wall, and swinging on the hand rail - none of these children were unhappy in these actions, indeed nor were their parents or anybody else that even simply chose to eat their packed sandwiches on the wide steps.

The space was ‘a joy to us’, all we needed realistically to do was encourage people to enter the space in an organised way. This thought concept perhaps reflected back to Tony’s original idea of wheelchair traffic violations mentioned earlier.

Cany came up with the title for our work which was ‘how many ways can you get from A to B’, and suddenly the idea had legs - or at least it would do! Tony and I then proceeded to enlist, persuade, beg and politely press gang members of the public into taking part in what had now become a performance piece. Few needed much persuasion, especially when we mentioned that the event would be filmed, true we neglected to say that it was Robert and his video camera doing the filming rather than one of the major TV networks!

At around 3.30 we had mustered quite a crowd in excess of 100 people. The eager horde were invited to move from the top of the ramp to the bottom in as many interesting ways as possible. Lead by Tony I followed on in semi-musical guise banging sticks carnival style on the railing, a little hard to keep time when there are a 100 plus bodies hot on your heels! We had ballet pirouettes, running, backwards walking, skipping, hopping you name it someone was doing it.

Everyone exited the base of the ramp with a smile on their face, and there was even an encore for those that simply couldn’t get enough! Certainly we could have spent our time building an installation, and there were some fabulous clever and diverse offerings from our colleagues in the seven other teams, but in the end we felt we had addressed the assigned topic ‘enter this place that is a joy to us’ entirely. The accessibility aspect was perfect, steps for the able bodied, a slope for wheelchairs and buggies, a handrail for the visually impaired - and a large helping of joy for all those that participated!

Chris Ankin

Obstinate Obstacles

by Chris Ankin

OBSTINATE OBSTACLES

Architecture and Accessibility
What does it mean
I’m not sure it’s something
That I’ve ever seen

Navigating the built environment
Without the use of sight
Could be ten times easier
If I didn’t have to fight

People cause the obstacles
I have to negotiate
Moving bodies, cars and clutter
Into danger I deviate

Give me a static building
That I can memory map
Devoid of human content
It will bridge the access gap

Chris Ankin

My favourite space...

Tanya Raabe

My favourite space is the turbine hall - with its vast space so huge that it
makes me feel light headed, and it wants me to create a small intimate
private space for one.

Does anyone see or notice you in such a vast space?

Thursday 16 October 2008

One of my favourite accessible buildings




Tony Heaton

Here's one of my favourite accessible buildings. It's a bit obvious but I have always loved the German pavilion by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. It was built for the Barcelona International Exposition in 1929 and dismantled the year after but it is one of modernism's seminal works.



It was reconstructed in the mid-1980's on the original site. It has level access throughout and its clean lines are created by large surfaces of glass and stone with columns of high chromuim-content steel. The walls and floor are different kinds of marble - travertine green marble and onyx.

It's a great small building for a wheelchair user to just glide through. Whilst the building is accessible wheelchair users have to go round the back (no change there then!) This minor inconvenience is made gleeful by knowing that you are about to wheel through a very carefully raked shale garden, I advise you to create as many wheel marks as possible in this pristine shale as a small but significant rite of passage.



The Faith House building by architect Tony Fretton that I project managed as part of my role as Director of Holton Lee owes something I am sure to this wonderful pavilion.

Tony Heaton

PS the sculpture is by Georg Kolbe and is called Morning.

Sunday 5 October 2008

Impact

by Caroline Cardus

It feels a million light years away (well, May 10th 2008) since the artists and architects all met at Tate Modern and worked together in the Turbine Hall, on the brief 'Come into this space which is a joy to us'.

Looking back, I can see that participating in Architecture-InsideOut has had a direct influence on my work this summer. It usually takes a while before things filter through, but this seems to have happened very quickly! I applied to work with Dada-South and English Heritage on the GoMake! residency, based at Fort Brockhurst in Gosport. Maybe it was just a case of the right thing at the right time - as I'm interested in the impact the world has on a disabled person, it was only a matter of time until my work considered a direct relationship within the building in which it was shown. Fort Brockhurst is an amazing place, and was a compelling setting to examine issues of exclusion, defence and barriers.

The fort is now used by English Heritage to store artifacts from all over the country, and is open to the public at weekends and during Heritage Open Days. For 4 days this September I showed an installation there which was made with local people in the Gosport area. The title of the piece was 'Hidden Battles' and it aimed to show the battles that disabled people fight in their everyday lives.



Going round the keep prior to the beginning of the residency was a powerful experience. Here rooms existed without people. The chilly, damp air in The Keep of Last Resort gave a creepy, standoffish feeling. Each one was so quiet and empty, so sparse of any shred of human existence, that you felt like an intruder. Just speaking aloud seemed to fill them - many of the rooms had impressive acoustic properties. You ended up whispering because the silence became a tangible thing to break. Strangely enough, the plain whitewashed walls looked very like gallery spaces waiting to be filled, yet the atmosphere was totally different. I had to pick a somewhere to show out of a massive collection of redundant rooms.

A narrow passageway led into an unusual shaped space, even for Fort Brockhurst. Starting at a point and widening, the walls led out so the room the shape of an isoceles triangle. From the apex of this triangle, the floor sloped gently down, to the base. There was no natural light, as it was a room within rooms. The ceiling was an extraordinary feat of design, arched eccentrically overhead. All these features led me to be inspired by the space. Enclosed and private, hidden and unexpected, it felt like the 'right' space. It occured to me that I haven't thought much about the right space in relation to my work before - more often it has been working with whatever was made available. This time it was different - the elements in the space itself - sound, atmosphere, temperature - became part of the installation.

Another group of artists showed at Fort Brockhurst during the Heritage Open Days this September. Gristle Mountain is an independent artist-run gallery project based in Gosport, UK. Each exhibition is shown in a place that is not exclusively an art space, such as a Fort, a Farm, a Shed, a Garage, a Field, a Boat, a Library, a Beer Garden or a small Shop. Every show at the Gristle Mountain Gallery will be based around a particular theme and be a playful investigation as to how art objects change the space they inhabit.

I was inspired and excited by Gristle Mountain's concept regarding the presentation of art objects and space. Fort Brockhurst was a powerful backdrop to their collective exhibition of drawings, entitled 'Forget Me'.

I would happily see a whole colony of artists at the fort every summer using all the little places, like the ammunition stores dug into the earth up on the ramparts, or in the gloomy cells, all of which have their own otherworldly feel. It's great to see a trend in general for artists occupying abandoned buildings and making them their own. For disabled artists, making work in response to historic buildings offers a unique point of view that does not often have the opportunity to be heard.