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
I feel very grateful to Karen and Paul for providing these clues from all the years of their involvement with the building. I am going to use them as starting points to search for ways to connect with the physicality of the place. A useful lead in the Narrative Detection process.
ReplyDeleteLucy