C O N T E X T 9 8 : M A R C H 2 0 0 7 7 (particularly those of the post-war era), and the DfES initiative to overhaul or replace all secondary school buildings in the near future, JonWright highlights the possible demolition of the impressive and experimental Geoffrey Chaucer School in Southwark (designed by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon, opened in 1958 and listed Grade II in 1993). an analogy between the layout and the (later) Starship Enterprise (yes really!) is one of the more interesting observations in very persuasive advocacy for retention. as Southwark Council wishes to fasttrack a scheme (combined with another school on the same site for a flagship city academy – a Blair pet project), the society had to act quickly to promote workable alternatives. also of note is the start of the society’s assessment of buildings from the 1970s for listing. Eligible under the 30 year rule, they could include Richard Rogers’ Lloyds Building (1978-86). The society is anxious that this exercise should not be London-centric: it needs to achieve national coverage. and what of the architectural unknowns? The public debate starts here. another report in the Twentieth Century Society Newsletter tells of the society’s successful campaign last July to get spot-listed the quite extraordinary (to this reviewer) Society of friends Hall in Croydon. It is an early 20th century, arts and crafts masterpiece by William Curtis Green, with an innovative but economical open timber roof structure (illustrated). The newsletter also reports on a visit to New Delhi and Rajastan, chronicling striking 20th century buildings ranging from Lutyens’ Viceroy’s Palace to Le Corbusier’s assembly Building. finally, as I report from time to time, the Newsletter of the Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art (Issue 23, December 2006) has announced research awards probably leading in due course to publications of interest to conservation professionals. These include research by Geoff Brandwood towards a monograph on the Victorian architects Paley and austin; to Julian Luxford related to analysis of the architectural and sculptural iconography of the west front of Peterborough Cathedral; and publication grants towards The English Parsonage in the Early Nineteenth Century (Timothy Brittain-Catlin); Dissent and the Gothic Revival (Bridget Cherry); the Buildings of Scotland Trust for the Perth and Kinross ‘Pevsner’; and the Public Monuments and Sculpture association for The Public Sculpture of Bristol. Bob Kindred MBE how their conservation can be used as a springboard for regeneration. as he encapsulates it: ‘The Victorian seaside legacy across Britain has been contested territory in an enduring struggle between traditionalist topophiles and profitmaximising entrepreneurs.’ Walton does not make it sound very nice and much of it is not, but the society is promoting a Holiday at Home campaign to encourage more visits and greater appreciation. It is not all doom and gloom. Research by Sheffield Hallam university shows that in the past 30 years, larger seaside resorts have generated more jobs than they have lost. The issue also examines the ambivalence to the conservation of Victorian seaside architecture. over the past decade and a half a string of official reports, such as Shifting Sands and Turning the Tide, have charted the decline of seaside towns while encouraging regeneration through investment in the built environment and architecture. allan Brodie and GaryWinter conclude the sequence with a discussion of their fouryear research project on the history of English resorts for English Heritage. a worthwhile issue for anyone involved in, interested in or responsible for seaside towns. another really good issue of the Twentieth Century Society Newsletter (Winter 2006–7) opens with a plea for candidates for a new chairman to succeed Gavin Stamp, who drove the society forward effectively for over 20 years. Stamp will be a hard act to follow. This issue of the newsletter shows how effective statutory amenity societies can be in promoting their cause. Having identified a serious concern about the fate of 20th century schools From ‘The Walled Eye: Sir Hugh Casson visits Peking’, Architectural Review, February 1955. PEKING is a planned city. Pay it the compliment then, if you can, of arriving by air. For it is a place to be seen first from above – a box, as it were, with the lid off. There it sits, flat, four square, ruled and patterned, grey-roofed and golden tiled, bang in the middle of a sepia landscape, as self-assured and inexplicable as a dog biscuit on a beach. Why is it there and not somewhere else? There seems to be no river ford, no harbour, no mountain pass to justify the choice of a site. But of course to ask such a question is a sign of western obtuseness. Only a barbarian would forget that Peking is not so much a city as a temple. It is the home of the Son of Heaven, and as such it has been placed and planned by magic and ritual rather than by common sense or the demands of trade. Yet once on the ground and within the safety of those great mudbaked walls built to shut out the bandits, the mountain winds, the rhythmic drudgery of peasant life, Peking becomes more than a city, more than even a temple. It becomes a metropolis – a place that has its own laws, character, history and destiny. Although of course it can supply everything, from coffins to fried fish-lips, that any one of its three million citizens may need at any hour of the day or night, Peking does not live by trade alone. A true metropolis, it is concerned with things of the mind. It is the home of learning and entertainment. It is international. Like a great exhibition it is full of crowds, music, clamour, wealth, squalor, bustle and glare. City, temple, metropolis, Peking is all of these, but to the world it is famous most of all as a work of art. There are perhaps more beautiful cities in the world, but few surely more immediately comprehensible at a glance. Climb the 0 feet to the ramparts of the Tartar city wall, and look northwards. Behind you stretches the countryside, its flat fields peppered with disused temples, and half-ruined tombs, with smoking factory chimneys, and busy building sites – a landscape being visibly transformed and in which the white noodles hung up in the sun fly like flags of surrender.
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