The winner of this year's Stirling Prize will be revealed by the Royal Institute of British Architects on 15 October. Four of the six shortlisted buildings are in London so I thought I'd take a look at them. There's no information on the RIBA website about visiting the buildings, not even proper addresses (so much for public engagement in the process). So I wasn't sure how much access to any of the sites there would be, or even whether I would find them.
But in the event I got around to see all four in a single day. I managed to get a reasonably good look as well, including a poke around the interior in two cases.
So here's my take on (2/3rds of) the shortlist.
1) NEO Bankside
Roger, Stirk, Harbour & Partners
Sumner St / Holland St, SE1
NEO Bankside is High Tech, or structural expressionism, on a domestic scale. A cluster of medium rise (12-24 storeys) apartment blocks behind the Tate Modern and the South Bank, it forms a joyous assembly of exposed structural members, exaggerated joints and detached lift towers. I really like it.
Richard Rogers and Graham Stirk (the project architect here) have, of course, for decades been leading proponents of the High Tech style (Lloyds Building, Strasbourg's European Court of Human Rights etc, etc). That's because they get it. They understand what makes it work psychologically. High Tech isn't, as is sometimes claimed, anything to do with functionalism or structural "honesty". No buildings constructed this way are sensible or truly rational in their design. But they are functionally/structurally intelligible. The eye delights in reconstructing how they are put together. The particularities of their form, accordingly, make sense. They are technologically tactile - techtile if you will: they have this in common with steam engines, LP-record players and (perhaps counterintuitively) the best aspects of vernacular architecture (clapboarding, wrought iron strap-hinges, thatch roofs and so on). You almost want to dig out your meccano set and start adding bits on. The engineering is playful, dramatised, but somehow remains entirely intuitive. Indeed, it is the only form of modernism that is truly visually nourishing: more articulation of form than bland International Style purism, more intelligible than the tedious arbitrary distortions of deconstructivism. Done with the skill of this practice, it is fun, likeable architecture. The RIBA citation describes the design as "... almost cute", which I agree with, and agree is no bad thing at all.
The arrangement and sizing of the buildings is also handled well. By contrast to, say, Central St Giles, by Richard Rogers's former colleague Renzo Piano, the site doesn't feel oppressively overdeveloped.
This leads on to the handling of the public space. I'm in two minds about how this has been done. The garden at the centre of the site, between the towers, is green and pleasant enough to detain, but there is nowhere to sit down. Still, this amount of greenery on a central London site is a rare and welcome thing. In that context, Oliver Wainwright's description of this as a "bleak sliver of manicured garden" in the Guardian write-up of the shortlist is a wee bit unfair.
But I'm not sure about the semi-private, semi-public nature of the space...
In some ways, allowing the public in during the day and locking them out at night could be argued to be a rational time-share division of land. Apartment-dwellers would legitimately want some privacy and quiet (the garden/thoroughfare is right below their windows), particularly at night. And there is a massive need for more greenery and public space in central London. Isn't this a reasonable compromise? Perhaps. But I'm not sure it works as a matter of human psychology. Feelings about territory aren't really time-limited in that way. If I regularly used the gated thoroughfare to get between the two sides of the site, I think I'd always feel a pang of resentment that my right to do so was being controlled in this way; I'd feel I was there on sufferance, which simply isn't a nice feeling. And I wonder if the residents, for their part, feel quiet resentment at the invasion of what feels 'their' space by the public during the day. The RIBA citation talks about an "intricate weaving of public and private space". Perhaps it's rather too intricate for its own good.
But where the project really falls - crashing - down is it social responsibility. The RIBA citation gamely reports that the "architects designed for the social housing to be onsite but with the agreement of Southwark it has been redistributed around the borough and almost all of it has so far been delivered". Which is an ineptly euphemistic way of saying that the developers got away with social cleansing. This despite Richard Rogers being a some-time urbanism guru who used to write reports urging for "socially mixed" developments. Whaaaat? Oliver Wainwright, in the Guardian piece, explains:
"While the borough’s policy requires 40% affordable housing, the developer, Native Land, agreed to provide just 27.5%, with all social-rented units built off-site in a cheaper area (which have yet to all be built). It justified this in its viability assessment (PDF) on the basis that average sales values would only be £754/sqft. In reality, the flats sold for an average of £1,326/sqft"
That is a tale so woeful that this project surely can't merit the prize, whatever its architectural merit.
Heneghan Peng Architects
10 Stockwell Street, SE10
This building exudes good taste. It doesn't exude very much else. The RIBA citation claims it to be a "startling building to put in Greenwich", with all the surrounding heritage. I wasn't unduly startled.
Smooth stone (as here), or else concrete, cladding brought off to a slightly angled inflection - an inflection vaguely suggestive of a revival of the swinging '60s look typified by the works of Colonel Seifert (he of Centrepoint and NatWest Tower fame) - is very 'in' at the moment. Pinecladding, 'barcode' fenestration, etc - the style that Tim Waterman brilliantly labelled 'blang' (ie bling meets bland) - are so last decade now. It is true that politeness, respecting the building line and the deployment of careful (and conspicuously expensive) detailing are still the order of the day, but the cool kids on the architecture block are no longer executing this programme with a vocabulary of form borrowed from Scandinavian saunas but rather one derived from bold and bolshie post-war office blocks. The result is that the style of the day is a curious hybrid of brutalism and bland: blandalism, perhaps?
There are one or two nice features here, mind. The swept-back angling of the window reveals on the railway-track facing side cleverly does several things at once: providing additional privacy to those working and studying inside; maximising the amount of the attractive stone cladding on display; and adding some articulation to what would be an otherwise rather dominating, regular facade.
It's also nice to see climbers being trained up the side walls, and some planting on the roof. Not reinventing the wheel or challenging anyone's notions about what a building is or anything, but just nice.
Nonetheless, it is hard to understand why this up for the UK's top architecture prize. Perhaps it has something to do with the RIBA wanting to make a point about how contemporary architecture can hold its own in such a prestigious, heritage-packed location (that is, amongst the beautiful Georgian terraces of Greenwich and a short stroll from Greenwich Park and the Royal Observatory). The shortlist citation certainly suggests so, inasmuch as it makes much of the location. Perhaps, as well, the function of the building is close to the heart of the judging panel, for it houses, amongst other things, the university's architecture department.
I did actually manage to take a look inside. Strolling past the reception desk into the innards of the university building did, initially prompt me to think, per Mark from Peep Show "Shit! ... I'm not licensed to be in this far!". At any rate, I had a nose around some empty exhibition spaces and took the opportunity to use a drinking fountain in the basement (and felt quite wily at this). But it later transpired that there are internal, key-card operated gates to main teaching areas upstairs. What's unclear is whether members of the public are actually welcome or not to wander about in the fairly expansive area of the interior accessible without a key-card. Perhaps this is another example of the confusingly "intricate weaving of public and private space" that seems to be the flavour of the month.
The RIBA citation has it that "[a]ll the interiors exude quality". (Who, by the way, is writing this stuff? Someone with all the literary skill of a fucking estate agent apparently.) At any rate, yes, the interior finishes are smart and well-made. But they are hardly uplifting or inspiring.
3) Darbishire Place, Peabody Housing
Niall Mclaughlin Architects
John Fisher Street, Whitechapel, E1
The text of the RIBA citation for this social housing block is priceless. It describes the stairway thus: "... what a stair: residents must feel a million dollars, like stars on an ocean liner, all graceful curves, an elegant swooping hand-rail and all that top-light."
Again, the "... residents must feel a million dollars, like stars on an ocean liner...". Honestly, if you were penning a novel that included a character who is a dim-witted philanthropist with a penchant for crassly talking down to the poor, you wouldn't dare have them say these words. It would be too unbelievable. Nobody is quite that patronising, quite that lacking in self-awareness, surely?
A further oddity of the award website treatment, and another reason why I was not expecting too much, is that, unless I'm mistaken, it uses the architect's renders (ie pre-construction mock-up pictures) rather than photos of the completed building. These pictures, are, in any event less attractive than the building in real life, which is a turnabout from the usual course of things.
It's an elegant building. The mottled brickwork works well. It doesn't attempt to ape the surrounding yellow brick early 20th century architecture, but it doesn't jar with it either. The softness of the bricks also provides a pleasing contrast to the sharp lines of the pre-cast window reveals. Sure, such lines are perhaps another instance of the trend for vaguely '60s stylings, but they're done in a modest, understated way here that should outlast the mode-ishness of the approach. And the finish looks to be of a very good quality.
The tapering of the building on one side is creates a bold effect, and opens up the square beyond as you approach from the south along the road. Again there is a nice, subtle stimulating contrast between the ordered formality of the fenestration and the (slightly) expressionistic nature of the plan. I like the way, as well, that the angled plan is reflected and emphasised in the paving/planting, with its banding that proudly clarifies that, no, the building is not parallel to its neighbour on that side. A less confident architect would have specified gravel or wall-to-wall tarmac, thus eviscerating this aspect of the design at ground level.
Of course, having laughed at the description of the staircase, I couldn't not take a peek inside. I had to wait a while for someone to come into the building so I could, cheekily, ask to be let in, but it was worth it. Don't be put off by the hype is the moral. The staircase is, in fact, as wonderful as the writer of the blurb was, however ineptly, trying to communicate.
I can't remember that last time I've see such a successful effort at simple beauty, or one so moving, in an apartment building of any kind, private or social. I don't know if I felt like a million dollars walking up it, but I'll admit that probably has swung me into thinking that, of the four buildings I saw, this would be a deserving winner. It raises the bar for buildings of its kind, and that is surely what the Stirling Prize should be about.
4) Burntwood School
Allford Hall Monaghan Morris
Burntwood Lane, SW17
It has been said that the experience of eating at McDonalds is like masturbating to pornography: great in the moment, but leaves you feeling dirty and empty afterwards. That is pretty much how I feel about these buildings. My first reaction was 'ooh, that's quite an flash-looking design'. And then that gave way to a sense of emptiness and resentment. There is just so little going on here. Yet again, we're back to the Seifert-aping retro trendiness with the 'cheekily'-angled concrete panelling. Once you get over that... well, that's it really. It's all surface, all cheap-thrills kitschiness. Aren't we supposed to be teaching youngsters the value of delayed gratification?
There's none of the actual fun of the Rogers, Stirk and Harbour development, nor the lasting beauty of the Peabody block. It's just coldly cool.
The best that the RIBA citation can say about it is that it has the "sense of this being more like a university than a school", something which "... would appear to encourage behaviour to suit". That amounts to breathtakingly fatuous empiricism and equally fatuous reasoning. The judging panel have walked into a school and decided that because the kids were polite to them above average behaviour standards must prevail. They've then deduced that this is down to the school buildings as opposed to any other factor. I mean, really, why do we bother with OFSTED and standardised testing when we have the RIBA? It's also a rather bizarre comment in that the wheeze of schools that ape universities is an old, tired one now - it seems to have been the whole premise of the much-derided "Academy-status" system. Moreover, I simply don't understand how the comment relates to this design; the citation offers: "... perhaps it’s all the pale, finely-detailed concrete, perhaps it’s the elegant covered walkway that links the principal buildings, drawing together the disparate styles and ages of the architecture". None of that sounds particularly characteristic of the architecture of tertiary rather secondary education. Finally, even were there any advantage to a school buying into the associations of university architecture, it's hardly a replicable solution. If every school did it, the alleged architectural conventions in question would lose all association with universities. Which is essentially, in a nutshell, why thinking about architecture in such crudely associational terms is stupid.
Verdict
I'd stress again that my visit and the write-up here covers only four of the six shortlisted buildings. Details of the other two - a cancer care centre in Aidrie, Lanarkshire, and an extension to The Whitworth Gallery in Manchester - can be viewed on the RIBA webpage (ie the one that I have so much derided in this post).
Of the entries in London, for me, the only contenders are Neo Bankside (the High Tech apartments by Rogers, Stirk and Harbour) and Darbishire Place (the Peabody Housing block by Niall McLaughlin Architects). Ultimately, Neo Bankside should be ruled out because of the appalling approach to the provision of social housing that the history of its development embodies. This means Darbishire Place, the social housing with the lovely (or "million dollar") stairway is the one that most deserves to win the coveted award.
