Lucy
Friday, 29 April 2011
Monday, 25 April 2011
Tourism's influence on the Town hall
Across the face of the Old Town Hall is carved “REBUILT A.D. 1836 IN THE MAYORALTIES OF M. TROUGHTON AND R.OAKES. ESQRS. A.H.WILDS. ARCHT.” Although it might not be obvious looking at the building now, its appearance is a testimony to tourism.
The architect Amon Henry Wilds’ background was in the development of Brighton as a boom tourist town and appointing him was part of the Town Council’s aspirations for Gravesend to achieve the same popularity and success. The Greek Revival style Wilds employed had its origins in the Grand Tour, when collectors and connoisseurs began to explore and record the architecture of Greece. The passion of these Grand Tourists for ancient Greek public monuments was distilled to become the recognised architectural shorthand for civic pride on a smaller scale, at a time when Town Halls were gaining social influence.
The first steamboats had started bringing tourists from London in 1815 and by 1840 reports estimate that 20,000 visitors a week flocked to Gravesend. It was described in the 1840 “Directory of Watering Places” as having “a most romantic appearance, and in point of view, health and pleasure, Gravesend will yield to none.” Disembarking from the Town Pier tourists crowded up the High Street past the proud new façade. This is the essential axis of the Old Town Hall, as shown here in this print from the mid nineteenth century, which distorts the true perspective to emphasise the vital relationship between the two. The prosperous period was soon in decline as by 1849 the London tourists were defecting to Margate on the train.
The second inscription on the building reads “RE-CONSTRUCTED DURING THE MAYORALTY OF CEO.H.EDMONDS. ESQ. 1882-3” The alterations were largely internal and resulted in the confectionary of plaster mouldings and gilding which is so appealing in the restored decor today. These new Victorian embellishments were in part funded by a second wave of London tourists, attracted to the Rosherville Gardens. This souvenir teacup and saucer hints at the gentile and convivial pastimes the pleasure seekers experienced.
The Gravesend of this era must have been a strangely unequal mix of affluent visitors and local social inequality, brought about by the growing pains of the industrial revolution. The uses of the building and the commercial influences on the town have undergone many significant changes since then. However, once again the Town Council seems to be looking to tourism as an industry, not only to bolster the prosperity and strengthen the identity of the town, but also to provide a layer of meaning and functionality to the building, whose civic functions have also moved on. Among the many intertwining stories encapsulated in the Old Town Hall, it makes me wonder if tourism might be a thread that links the past and future of a place that is so important for representing the aspirations of the people it serves.
I am looking forward to being a tourist at the Royal Wedding celebration parade in Gravesend this week and joining in the convivial atmosphere as the crowds pass up the High Street in front of the Old Town Hall. The bunting is up and the school children have completed their costumes. The traditional brass band will be joined by bhangra drummers and a brazilian salsa group, as a testimony to a new sense of civic pride.
Written with reference to Alan Baxter & Associates Conservation Plan document produced for Kent County Council May 2004. Teacup photo from the Discover Gravesham website.
Lucy
The architect Amon Henry Wilds’ background was in the development of Brighton as a boom tourist town and appointing him was part of the Town Council’s aspirations for Gravesend to achieve the same popularity and success. The Greek Revival style Wilds employed had its origins in the Grand Tour, when collectors and connoisseurs began to explore and record the architecture of Greece. The passion of these Grand Tourists for ancient Greek public monuments was distilled to become the recognised architectural shorthand for civic pride on a smaller scale, at a time when Town Halls were gaining social influence.
The first steamboats had started bringing tourists from London in 1815 and by 1840 reports estimate that 20,000 visitors a week flocked to Gravesend. It was described in the 1840 “Directory of Watering Places” as having “a most romantic appearance, and in point of view, health and pleasure, Gravesend will yield to none.” Disembarking from the Town Pier tourists crowded up the High Street past the proud new façade. This is the essential axis of the Old Town Hall, as shown here in this print from the mid nineteenth century, which distorts the true perspective to emphasise the vital relationship between the two. The prosperous period was soon in decline as by 1849 the London tourists were defecting to Margate on the train.
The second inscription on the building reads “RE-CONSTRUCTED DURING THE MAYORALTY OF CEO.H.EDMONDS. ESQ. 1882-3” The alterations were largely internal and resulted in the confectionary of plaster mouldings and gilding which is so appealing in the restored decor today. These new Victorian embellishments were in part funded by a second wave of London tourists, attracted to the Rosherville Gardens. This souvenir teacup and saucer hints at the gentile and convivial pastimes the pleasure seekers experienced.
The Gravesend of this era must have been a strangely unequal mix of affluent visitors and local social inequality, brought about by the growing pains of the industrial revolution. The uses of the building and the commercial influences on the town have undergone many significant changes since then. However, once again the Town Council seems to be looking to tourism as an industry, not only to bolster the prosperity and strengthen the identity of the town, but also to provide a layer of meaning and functionality to the building, whose civic functions have also moved on. Among the many intertwining stories encapsulated in the Old Town Hall, it makes me wonder if tourism might be a thread that links the past and future of a place that is so important for representing the aspirations of the people it serves.
I am looking forward to being a tourist at the Royal Wedding celebration parade in Gravesend this week and joining in the convivial atmosphere as the crowds pass up the High Street in front of the Old Town Hall. The bunting is up and the school children have completed their costumes. The traditional brass band will be joined by bhangra drummers and a brazilian salsa group, as a testimony to a new sense of civic pride.
Written with reference to Alan Baxter & Associates Conservation Plan document produced for Kent County Council May 2004. Teacup photo from the Discover Gravesham website.
Lucy
Saturday, 16 April 2011
Friday, 15 April 2011
Town Hall colour and gilding
Went to visit the Old Town Hall today, with the intention of following up on the architectural clues and searching out subtle traces and memory marks. Instead got swept away with enthusiasm for the colourful, decorative and flamboyant details.
Lucy
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Uncover and recover. Restoring the Old Town Hall.
Conversation with Karen Butti and Paul Sharrock from Thomas Ford Architects.
The Town Hall looks solid. In fact it is fluid, morphing throughout its life. Each shift in the governance of Gravesend’s society resulted in a reconfiguration of the physical nature of the building, creating a composite spatial story. Squeezed into its tight urban site, it is a robust place, capable of absorbing change. Despite being restored and protected, it is not frozen, even now. The place that exists in the living memories of those who visited the Town Hall in its recent past, captures only one thin layer within the strata of its existence. The fabric of the building is a true record, but is it mute?
Attending to traces:
Visiting for the first time in 2004 and finding old coffee cups, as if the Clerks of the Court had just stepped out for a moment, even though a decade or more had passed since their leaving.
Poring over early plans that contain rooms and room names and roles, which have subsequently disappeared.
Removing the asbestos ceiling in the boiler room and discovering where Victorian workmen had written their names on the sides of the joists.
Standing on the scaffold in the Great Hall and finding the names of previous decorators written on top of a shelf at ceiling level, with the most recent workmen adding their own.
Noticing shadows on the ceiling when the light was at the right angle, revealing the existence of an earlier decorative motif, then carefully mapping the faint lines for the records.
Creating a pattern of repairs on the portico columns that records the locations of the rusted ironwork supports that cracked the thin stone cladding.
Getting up close to the massive plated steel beams in the roof, riveted together by local ship builders.
Challenging visitors to find their way out of the warren of small rooms and corridors that subdivided the Great Hall into a hierarchy of judicial uses.
Preserving the defunct ventilation shafts that run up through the building, which once ventilated the rooms for gas lighting and now carry disembodied voices up from the street.
Leaving the graffiti on the backs of the cell doors, so that when they are open the prisoner’s sentiments are hidden from a sensitive visitor’s view.
Cleaning the stained glass representation of Navigation and finding that the map she holds shows Gravesend disproportionately large.
Drawing up the elevation with reference to Vitruvius and Palladio to find the proportions perfect, except for the section enlarged to ensure the prominence of the Mayor’s inscription.
Noticing that on rare occasions the light shines through the stairwell stained glass, projecting the heraldic emblem through the facing window on the buildings across the road.
Removing a staircase and storing it in the roof void, alongside old coats of arms and redundant doors.
Uncovering the fireplace and cupboards for the obsolete Sergeant of the Mace’s room behind the toilet panelling, recording and recovering it with the poker still in the grate.
Photo's kindly provided by Karen Butti from Thomas Ford Architects.
Lucy
The Town Hall looks solid. In fact it is fluid, morphing throughout its life. Each shift in the governance of Gravesend’s society resulted in a reconfiguration of the physical nature of the building, creating a composite spatial story. Squeezed into its tight urban site, it is a robust place, capable of absorbing change. Despite being restored and protected, it is not frozen, even now. The place that exists in the living memories of those who visited the Town Hall in its recent past, captures only one thin layer within the strata of its existence. The fabric of the building is a true record, but is it mute?
Attending to traces:
Visiting for the first time in 2004 and finding old coffee cups, as if the Clerks of the Court had just stepped out for a moment, even though a decade or more had passed since their leaving.
Poring over early plans that contain rooms and room names and roles, which have subsequently disappeared.
Removing the asbestos ceiling in the boiler room and discovering where Victorian workmen had written their names on the sides of the joists.
Standing on the scaffold in the Great Hall and finding the names of previous decorators written on top of a shelf at ceiling level, with the most recent workmen adding their own.
Noticing shadows on the ceiling when the light was at the right angle, revealing the existence of an earlier decorative motif, then carefully mapping the faint lines for the records.
Creating a pattern of repairs on the portico columns that records the locations of the rusted ironwork supports that cracked the thin stone cladding.
Getting up close to the massive plated steel beams in the roof, riveted together by local ship builders.
Challenging visitors to find their way out of the warren of small rooms and corridors that subdivided the Great Hall into a hierarchy of judicial uses.
Preserving the defunct ventilation shafts that run up through the building, which once ventilated the rooms for gas lighting and now carry disembodied voices up from the street.
Leaving the graffiti on the backs of the cell doors, so that when they are open the prisoner’s sentiments are hidden from a sensitive visitor’s view.
Cleaning the stained glass representation of Navigation and finding that the map she holds shows Gravesend disproportionately large.
Drawing up the elevation with reference to Vitruvius and Palladio to find the proportions perfect, except for the section enlarged to ensure the prominence of the Mayor’s inscription.
Noticing that on rare occasions the light shines through the stairwell stained glass, projecting the heraldic emblem through the facing window on the buildings across the road.
Removing a staircase and storing it in the roof void, alongside old coats of arms and redundant doors.
Uncovering the fireplace and cupboards for the obsolete Sergeant of the Mace’s room behind the toilet panelling, recording and recovering it with the poker still in the grate.
Photo's kindly provided by Karen Butti from Thomas Ford Architects.
Lucy
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Memory, ceremony and hearing the Town Hall speak.
There is a romantic notion that if you only listen hard enough you can hear buildings speak, as if somehow voices from the past have engrained themselves in the surface materials and added richness to the patina of age. Layers of dust capture memory traces; peeling paint bears witness; discarded belongings act as clues. The newly restored Town Hall is pristine. Even the brass door handles are fingerprint free. There are two conspicuous memory triggers; the war memorials. But both have disjointed pasts. One was relocated to a leftover space at the bottom of the stairs. The other, the stained glass portrayals of Industry, Agriculture, Navigation, Peace, Justice, Vigilance and Commerce was rebranded as a war memorial retrospectively.
If the motivation of the artist residency is to reconnect people with place, then should visitors be enabled to feel at home here? This building speaks of civic formality. The sense of authority is distilled down to the micro-architectures of the ceremonial chairs. Made of red leather, brass studs and carved oak, they look uncomfortable and discourage uninvited perching. Even a past Mayor, dressed in his robes of office for his commemorative portrait, prefers to stand next to the official seat of power. Symbols of ease and domesticity would seem out of place. How would if feel to happen across an old pair of slippers beneath one of these chairs?
Apparently in the 1850’s the Town Hall was brought close to bankruptcy as rival factions fought over the dwindling tourist revenues by constructing competing piers to gain control over the river borne arrivals. As the day-trippers defected to Margate on the newly opened railways, the official regalia, chain, mace, wig and robes, ended up in hock. Although they were eventually retrieved by the next generation of Councillors, for a while they had to be rented back for official functions. Where would Victorian authority be without the symbols of ceremony after all? As the doors open on this newly restored Victorian civic space, it begs the question, how can it speak now to a new wave of visitors?
Lucy
If the motivation of the artist residency is to reconnect people with place, then should visitors be enabled to feel at home here? This building speaks of civic formality. The sense of authority is distilled down to the micro-architectures of the ceremonial chairs. Made of red leather, brass studs and carved oak, they look uncomfortable and discourage uninvited perching. Even a past Mayor, dressed in his robes of office for his commemorative portrait, prefers to stand next to the official seat of power. Symbols of ease and domesticity would seem out of place. How would if feel to happen across an old pair of slippers beneath one of these chairs?
Apparently in the 1850’s the Town Hall was brought close to bankruptcy as rival factions fought over the dwindling tourist revenues by constructing competing piers to gain control over the river borne arrivals. As the day-trippers defected to Margate on the newly opened railways, the official regalia, chain, mace, wig and robes, ended up in hock. Although they were eventually retrieved by the next generation of Councillors, for a while they had to be rented back for official functions. Where would Victorian authority be without the symbols of ceremony after all? As the doors open on this newly restored Victorian civic space, it begs the question, how can it speak now to a new wave of visitors?
Lucy
Feeling along the shifting edges of Gravesend’s story.
Arriving by sea, up the broad river estuary, finding solid land on the marsh edge.
Tide bringing salty water from the sea or polluted water from the city.
Tourist pleasure seekers one tide run from London.
Ships propelled by the pull of tide, push of wind, pressure of steam.
Transition between ship, stage, rail, waiting, moving through, away.
Embarking, migrating, asylum-seeking, commuting.
Defensive threshold, fort lookout, cannon reach.
Eating away the chalk face, rubbing out prehistory, rerouting roads, exposing gunflints, creating a level plateau for Asda’s carpark.
Alluvial clay, limekilns, layers of fine white cement dust.
Buildings repeatedly razed to the ground by fire, bombing, dereliction, re-development.
Lucy
Tide bringing salty water from the sea or polluted water from the city.
Tourist pleasure seekers one tide run from London.
Ships propelled by the pull of tide, push of wind, pressure of steam.
Transition between ship, stage, rail, waiting, moving through, away.
Embarking, migrating, asylum-seeking, commuting.
Defensive threshold, fort lookout, cannon reach.
Eating away the chalk face, rubbing out prehistory, rerouting roads, exposing gunflints, creating a level plateau for Asda’s carpark.
Alluvial clay, limekilns, layers of fine white cement dust.
Buildings repeatedly razed to the ground by fire, bombing, dereliction, re-development.
Lucy
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Is a long memory a good thing?
After a tip off from Christoph, I searched out the film The Long Memory starring John Mills, which was shot in Gravesend in 1952 and came across these location photos on a blog that celebrates the work of set designers and scenic artists. There is blurry line here, between what is real and what is pretend. It raises questions about the authenticity of trying to capture the ambience of a place and recreate it, alluring though idea may be.
Lucy
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
The Old Town Hall as the stage for a Victorian social drama
It will be interesting to investigate the legacy of this influential period in the Old Town Hall's history in Gravesend today.
Lucy
Monday, 4 April 2011
The local history of the town. The history of the local archive.
On Saturday Annie and I were very fortunate to have a personal town tour from Christoph Bull, District Manager of Gravesham Libraries and a member of the Gravesend Historical Society. When searching out stories it is always difficult to know where to start. “Local history is like an onion”, Christoph agreed, “layers upon layers upon layers”. This turned out to be not just a tour of sites of local historical significance, but a celebration of the heroic custodians of the accumulated archive. We met outside the Library on King Street (built 1905 and now being restored). Christoph explained that the local Library should always be the first point of call for local history needs. Historically the Librarians have been the keepers of the collection since 1893, protecting it from villains who wanted to pulp it and saving it from rotting away in damp storage. Nearby is the site of the long gone printers, Cabels, once responsible for the superior town directories dating back to 1831. Along the road is the Cooper House pub, on the site of Cooper’s furniture and undertaker’s establishment. John Hanks Cooper was an influential politician who got the Libraries Act passed in Gravesend in 1892. Just down the High Street, is the site of Robert Pocock’s printing press, the town’s first in 1786. As well as establishing a subscription library, Pocock was author of the first history of Gravesend. He fell out with the grandees of the Town Hall, who not only bankrupted him, but also banned him from the archive. “You can’t have local historians not co-operating with each other”, Christoph added, ”you need a network of people who know, so there is always someone to ask. It is how information works on a human level.” During the tour we had two sightings of local history legend Tony Larkin, once in a pub, once in a café. He is someone we need to track down in the near future. As we walked towards the Old Town Hall, Christoph led us through the story of shifting legislative territories, borough boundaries and local mayoralties, where independence and identity seem to struggle amid the tangle of bureaucracy. At the centre of all these administrative threads is the Old Town Hall. The decisions taken by successive incumbents are preserved in meeting minutes going back centuries. Even the keepers of the archive can become the subject of the archive. When Christoph joined the Library Service in 1977 it was a time of transition. He has recorded what Dean Harris, County Librarian, thought about the changes, “because that is history that is going to disappear. So I’ve got everything tabulated. It is vital to have a passion for it.” Christoph grew up in Gravesend and became a historian because “every time I came into town as a child they were messing it up.” As we walked, the places that had been erased seemed just as significant as the traces of history still left standing. Gravesend’s history and streets seem littered with the remnants of partially completed grand plans or flawed redevelopments and from the ‘local boy’s’ perspective, so much has been lost. As the tour came full circle back to the Library, we asked about all the Historical Societies in the surrounding neighbourhoods. There seems to be hundreds of people, a small army, enthusiastically keeping the past in the present. The challenge for the Talking Halls project is how to do justice to such carefully preserved stories.
Lucy
Lucy
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