By Chris Rogers, Sep 11 2014 6:47AM
Settled comfortably around a black conference table – the only item of furniture in an office space still lacking its carpet tiles – on the 40th floor of the new Leadenhall Building as part of a small group of journalists and writers invited to its press view last week, I had a rare and valuable opportunity to discuss with lead designer Graham Stirk and his partner, practice co-founder Richard Rogers, the forces that had shaped their new building and how they came to be working in the City of London once again.
Click here for the full story, including conversations with Stirk and Rogers and exclusive images
By Chris Rogers, Sep 6 2014 11:43PM
“Oh my God, did you touch her?” The man sitting on my left, up in the gods at Friday’s performance, was on the phone to his friend down in the stalls after the curtain dropped on act (and that is the right word) one of Kate Bush’s soaringly ambitious new show. Just minutes before, Bush had been carried off stage through the front rows of the audience by half a dozen Fish People, and this fan’s reaction must surely have been typical of many who had just seen the climax of the second part of the gig’s opening half. This was a full-scale theatrical interpretation of The Ninth Wave, the allegory of loss and redemption set against the sinking of a ship and the drowning of its crew that comprises the entire second side of Bush’s acclaimed 1985 album Hounds of Love.
To call it impressive is to pull one’s punches. Joining a small cast that includes her son Bertie and her backing singers, Bush stages a son et lumiere that moves from a storm-tossed ocean via a scene of domestic disharmony in a twisted Expressionist-style room to salvation of sorts on a lonely lifebuoy, to which survivors cling in their lifejackets with red lights and burning red flares. It involves trapdoors, a UFO-like ‘search and rescue helicopter’ cleverly created from a mechanised lighting rig that flies rather unsettlingly around the stage, the aforementioned Fish People and more. It was a hell of a start.
Beforehand, it was clear that no-one knew what to expect and that anything was possible. Some wanted to see what she looked like, after twenty-odd years away from the lens. Some wanted to see her dancing. The woman on my right had seen Bush the first/last/only time; “I wanted to say I’d been on all of her tours,” she joked. Most, I suspect, just wanted to see her. I was curious about all that too, of course, but mostly I wanted to hear her voice – that crisp, sharp, agile, warm voice – live.
A recorded venue-voice warning us that the event was about to start garnered huge applause. The house lights cut – a massive cheer split the auditorium. The opening incantation of Lily from Bush’s 1993 album The Red Shoes began:
Oh thou, who givest sustenance to the universe
From whom all things proceed
To whom all things return
Unveil to us the face of the true spiritual sun
Hidden by a disc of golden light
That we may know the truth
And do our whole duty
As we journey to thy sacred feet
It seemed appropriate, given the anticipation. When Bush actually appeared, leading a small group of singers, modestly dressed and not even spot-lit, the next cheer took the roof off. That she was actually barefoot only added to the sense of a religious occasion. As it happened, that isn’t a bad comparison, too, for the sheer range of philosophical ideas reached by the show. Exploring big themes, the stage became, variously, a time machine, jumping back and forth; a teleportation device, moving us from forest to sky to stars and sea; and a microscope, looking deep within us.
The choice of Lily was an intriguing one for an opener, a non-single from an album not generally considered successful, but it was a solid base for six consecutive songs taken exclusively from The Red Shoes, Hounds of Love and Aerial (full set list at the end of this post). There was dancing, but not by Bush, who did a few token swirls but that was all, and enough. The seven-piece band (three guitars/strings, two drums/percussion, two keyboards) and five backing singers recreated well the richly-layered production of the albums, and the lighting and stage design for this first half was nicely restrained, a simple arrangement of diamond-shaped ‘pixels’ like those used in the London Olympic stadium but mostly giving out only tiny points of golden light.
This was merely a prelude, though. As the community sing-song ending of King of the Mountain – itself a rather unwelcome harbinger, as it turned out, of similar changes to other songs – continued, a lone musician whip-cracked his swirling purerehua-like instrument, instantly plunging the theatre into darkness and summoning lightning bolts. A scrim descended and a filmed insert began – we were off.
Not being familiar with The Ninth Wave until the celebrations marking Bush’s return, for me only the melancholy And Dream of Sheep and haunting Hello Earth truly connected musically, though I was alone in that to judge from the audience reaction to each intro.
Those theatricals, though, were certainly eye-catching. They mostly featured simple, traditional techniques as old as theatre. Thus a vast expanse of silk, constantly ruffled, made a remarkably convincing sea, whilst a signal buoy floating in the waves seemed to hover like an object in a 3D film, more real than real, thanks to the intensity of the red light in which it was bathed. The room set, a physical piece of scenery, was silently moved through a ‘sea’ of lasers and smoke, Fish People slipping below the surface...
Whether that degree of staging is actually necessary is a moot point, since it is there, but whilst it is evidently fully in line with Bush’s own original conceptions of the music according to her fascinating essays in the lavish event book (‘programme’ doesn’t cover it – advert-free, nicely produced and exploring the making of the show, it’s worth the £15 price), one very occasionally feels a kitchen sink being prepared in the wings. Of course one can hardly blame her, though it did make the first encore – just Bush, playing piano and with that voice – all the more welcome.
For me, though, it was act two that really delivered, a complete performance of A Sky of Honey from side two of Aerial. A single 45-minute composition in nine subtly joined movements, the suite follows two lovers through the course of a single day from afternoon through dusk and night to dawn. Vitally – another appropriate word, in context – its music merges and mingles with, becomes and is generated by, birdsong, including a rhythmic line of dove coos that has become as famous in Bush’s oeuvre as the drum beat from Running up that Hill.
Opening with a projected backdrop of dense woodland, giant doors 40 feet high let in and then lock out a figure about the size of a child and based on those artist’s wooden mannequins. Animated Bunraku-style by a black-clad puppeteer, this delightful little figure tentatively explores the band as they play, cocking his head in bird fashion and almost-but-not-quite touching everything. It’s not hard to read him as Bertie, especially later.
The backdrop shifts to show an evening sky, overlaid with breath-taking, ultra slow-motion, close-up footage of all manner of birds in flight. With the band simply lit in autumnal colours, this was a truly magical sequence that for me was the highlight of the evening.
As the day progresses, a vast ‘canvas’ in a frame is lowered for the Painter – Bertie again, diplomatically replacing Rolf Harris from the album – to work on. It slowly changes (All the colours are running) to become an exact but smaller replica of the painted sky backdrop, the gauzy texture of which is itself well-suited to simulating canvas. It was a neat trick whose method I won’t reveal – a woman has to have some secrets. Day/night, life/death, sea/sky and past/present thus collide, beautifully caught in a verse from Sunset:
Who knows who wrote that song of Summer
That blackbirds sing at dusk
This is a song of color
Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust
Then climb into bed and turn to dust
Later, Bush stands on a jet black stage backed only by an immense orange disc that moves imperceptibly lower as the song cycle concludes.
Sadly the movements are split in several places, breaking the building of mood that is such a critical part of A Sky of Honey’s success as a recording. Nevertheless the building of atmosphere continues, propelled by the percussive, melodic, hypnotic, seductive Nocturn:
Bright, white coming alive jumping off the aerial
All the time it's a changing like now
All the time it's a changing like then again
All the time it's a changing
And all the dreamers are waking
though its climax is delayed by Tawny Moon, new material written for the show and performed by Bertie as a serenade to a lunar body (which is seen to spin on its axis, something actually impossible to perceive from Earth) that veers perilously close to West End musical, and overextended when it arrives, with a misjudged move into Spanish drumming.
At the end, with a stage in darkness, a single bird flies down the screen, white on black.
Staging aside, it is important to point out that, listening to such a wealth of material in one go, whether live, via a television documentary or re-browsing your own collection, and this time really listening to the words, does make you appreciate the wealth of influences, linkages and relevances in Bush’s work.
In particular, she is arguably the latest in a long and rich line of English – specifically English – writers and artists, visionaries who have shown a clear personal connection with the intangible, the unconscious and the countryside. John Dee, Joseph Turner, John Constable, William Blake, Kit Williams, maybe even Aleistair Crowley; all are invoked. There is, for example, a clear link between the liminal state summoned by the lyric of Somewhere in Between:
Somewhere in between, the waxing and the waning wave
Somewhere in between, what the song and silence say
Somewhere in between, the ticking and the tocking clock
Somewhere in a dream between, sleep and waking up
Somewhere in between, breathing out and breathing in
Like twilight is neither night nor morning
and Herrick’s exquisite Dreams, written three centuries ago:
Here we are all, by day; by night, we're hurled
By dreams, each one, into a several world
Certainly, too, Bush is conscious of the debt she owes to the pastoral scenes conjured by the great Edwardian composers Elgar and, especially, Vaughan Williams, whose ‘English sublime’ finds an obvious echo in Bush’s lyrics (Can you see the lark ascending?) but also in her flawless sonic evocation of ‘a lovely afternoon’.
As for that voice, well, it was there, certainly, and with some power behind it – certain passages were almost belted out. There were, inevitably, some concessions to her maturity. Extra bars had been deftly inserted in Running up that Hill to ease a tricky transition. Whole chunks of lyrics were omitted, not entirely to the song’s benefit in the case of Hounds of Love but surprisingly successfully in the brilliant Top of the City, second-best track from the very underrated Red Shoes and here with a storming chorus vocal from Bush that roused the audience considerably. There was, finally, a fair bit of helpful echo dialled in to her mic, a tiny amount of speak-singing and just one or two indecisive moments.
So, was Bush waving or drowning? It’s clear she was determined, even after all this time and with obvious adulation awaiting almost regardless of what she did, to return very much on her own terms, with the crowd-pleasing singles bookending the three quarters of the show devoted to the two conceptual works. Some of the visuals are spellbinding. So yes, I did enjoy my trip across the universe. The earth didn't quite move for me in the end, thanks to the uneven tone and pace and some of the staginess, but certainly the moon moved for Kate and I imagine few left unhappy.
Hounds of Love
Top of the City
Running up that Hill
King of the Mountain
The Ninth Wave (complete)
A Sky of Honey (complete) + Tawny Moon
By Chris Rogers, Aug 27 2014 10:51PM
A young woman is forced by a friend to take a briefcase to a mysterious, violent gang boss, then forced once more to become a drugs ‘mule’, a package of blue crystals sewn into her stomach. Brutalised along the way, the package bursts, the drugs leak…but Lucy, far from dying in agony, begins to live.
The protagonist who takes a journey to self-discovery is a keystone of fiction and especially screenwriting, but in Luc Besson’s new, almost uncategorisable film – existential thriller, maybe? – this idea is taken to heights seldom reached, especially in mainstream cinema. That it succeeds in mixing sex, shooting and stimulating ideas is a credit to all involved.
Besson built his reputation with dynamic, sassy films, often with single women searching for a meaning in their lives and eventually becoming empowered through action and reaction. With Lucy, he takes that idea and puts it through its ultimate – in every sense – iteration.
Scarlet Johansson plays the title role, brilliantly portraying both a care-free thrill-seeker in contemporary Taiwan and a terrified victim in the first ten minutes of the film alone.
Once the effects of the then-unknown drug begin to kick in, though, it becomes clear – with the help of some Terrence Malick-like quick cuts of wildlife red in tooth and claw and parallel scenes of scientist Morgan Freeman delivering a lecture on mammalian neurology hooked around the supposed notion that we only use 10% of our brain capacity – that Lucy is about to extend the limits of human ability, gradually acquiring powers over her mind, her body, and then those of others.
This, though, is not an opportunity for Lucy, it’s an obligation. She has no choice, and even as she begins her journey, she already knows she will stop being who she is, and eventually stop being altogether. There is a lyrical speech at the exact point where Lucy realises this that brings it home to her and the audience in a genuinely powerful way.
Lucy makes a phone call to her mother for some mutual reassurance. She tries to explain what has happened to her by describing what she can now sense: “ I feel everything. Space, the air, the vibrations, the people, I can feel the gravity, I can feel the rotation of the Earth, the heat leaving my body, the blood in my veins. I can feel my brain. The deepest parts of my memory…..” but this subtly changes into an extraordinary, poetic paean to motherhood as she can also quite literally remember every kiss she has ever received, feel every touch and even – in a line which might have had others smiling for the wrong reason but which I thought quite beautiful – the taste of her mother’s milk.
It’s a superbly scripted moment, movingly delivered by Johansson and subtly directed by Besson with a simple, very slow zoom into her face as a tear run down her cheek. It rivals Roy Batty’s elegaic rage against the dying of the light at the end of Blade Runner for a deeply humane postscript to a life.
Afterwards, Johansson shifts to an almost complete lack of affect that is as scary as it is amusing, just short of robotic enough to keep you caring. A chase across Paris sees Lucy demolishing innocent drivers’ vehicles with no interest in their survival – she has moved beyond emotion by this point. Her powers become ever-greater, allowing her to dismiss gunmen with a flick of the wrist without even touching them. “Why do you need me?” asks the bemused Paris police detective who finds himself accompanying her on this kinetic adventure. She kisses him gently on the lips: “A reminder,” she explains. And yet as she loses her human-ness, she starts to gain her humanity.
That Lucy is a woman, and a woman called Lucy too, is crucial.
The first scene of the film is a lush prehistoric Earth populated by a single hominid, the two-million-year-old precursor to homo sapiens found in Ethiopia in 1974 that was christened Australopithecus afarensis and nicknamed ‘Lucy’.
Back in the present, as the new Lucy’s abilities accelerate (reflected in the very brisk 80 or so minutes of the film’s running time) and her potential to connect with everything and everyone emerges, one is reminded of Sarah Connor’s impassioned rail against men making death and women making life in Terminator 2: Judgment Day. That crime boss Jang is male and peremptorily kills the hapless-seeming first recipient of the drug, to whom Jang feeds it as a test and whose rapt expression Jang misreads as simple stupefied ecstasy but which we later realise shows nascent realisation of his own becoming, seems to prove this point; Jang terminates the future Man that he (we) could become, whereas Lucy enables it.
Thus whilst the on-screen action sees Lucy methodically tracking the other mules in order to prevent an uncontrolled meltdown as Jang tries to find her, we realise that the film is about being, about becoming; it is nothing less than a meditation of life, its meaning and its potential for being something more.
At Freeman’s university – clearly indicated as the Sorbonne, founded by theologian
Robert de Sorbon, although God thankfully makes no appearance in the film – Lucy instructs Freeman to inject her with all of the drug, now recovered from the other mules, to allow her to complete her self-actualising transformation.
It thus becomes clear the film Lucy most closely resembles is not a live action production at all, but Mamoru Oshii’s animated Ghost in the Shell, his seminal visualisation of Masamune Shirow’s techno-philosophical manga.
Although starting from wholly different points, both films show a female lead character attaining a different state of being after encountering an external accelerant and the final scenes of the two films are thematically identical and even visually comparable
In Ghost in the Shell, Kusanagi is freed from the limitations of her body (which is mechanical, the film already having meditated on the improvement or otherwise this represents as compared to a human frame) and fused with the artificial conscience that is Project 2501, becoming a new form of life, “in the world wide sea of information”. In Lucy, Johansson attains a similar state, vaulting back in time in a breathtaking sequence which sees her ‘swiping’ Times Square like an iPhone back to Victorian New York, then again to farmland, then again to primeval swamp, before finally meeting her namesake ancestor and touching fingertips in a gesture that is a direct quote from both Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel fresco seen earlier in one of the film’s montages but also Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Indeed at the film’s climax Besson even throws in a tiny Monolith in the shape of a black USB stick extruded by the being that evolves from Lucy and a pile of computers, its surface a portal into stars in a direct quote from the Clarke novel and the Peter Hyams-directed sequel. “Where is she?” asks the puzzled flic; "I am everywhere," Lucy replies via a text message on his phone.
So this is not just a simple shoot-‘em-up; it has ambition and brains. I suspect that’s why Scarlet Johansson was involved, who clearly relished a role where she could work Louboutin heels and a little black dress whilst also theorising on metaphysics. Do see it. It’s cleverer than you think it is. It might even be cleverer that IT thinks it is.
By Chris Rogers, Aug 16 2014 10:39AM
Seven rebels, fighting a totalitarian empire, and four friends, fighting interruptions from late-departing workers and a diligent officer cleaner – such was the setting for the recording of
What’s that, you say? How is a podcast ‘visual culture’? I know, I know – though I, Rob, his fellow show (pod?) runner and my good friend Clive Ashenden, and friend-to-all-of-us Keith Eyles were actually wearing black, in order to facilitate the superb pic featured above. And, of course, the visuals of the series were a big topic of conversation for us during the ‘cast.
Watching all 50-odd episodes showed the fascinating variety of effects, technology (both actual and predicted), locations and sets employed through the series’ four runs, and despite the limitations of budget there are some real gems to be found.
You’ll hear us all agree on the brilliantly-designed Liberator, as a found, genuinely alien artefact, with its unusual configuration, absent crew, elegant guns, and mysterious teleport facility. Elsewhere, episodes where the design embraces the simple power of colour and shape are amongst the best in this respect, from the superb monochrome courtroom of The Trial to the Sapphire and Steel-like weirdness of Shadow.
We also look at the advantages and challenges of the multi-camera, live-mixed studio shooting technique that was then the norm; seldom if ever edited after the fact, scenes were recorded on several cameras simultaneously with the choice as to which feed will make the tape for any given shot made as the script was performed and recorded.
We also explore the characters, costumes, themes and more, as well as picking our worst and best episodes. It’ll be like having four mates you don’t yet know chatting in your room about one of your favourite childhood programmes, so charge the neutron blasters and dive in…
By Chris Rogers, Aug 3 2014 6:03PM
CUT! It was the calm after the storm at Colindale this week as the Avengers: Age of Ultron production team left the Peel Centre site, although not before shooting a full-scale riot in Sokovia that was dramatically captured by a local resident. Made available to the same reporter who contacted me and
The sequence was still being shot last weekend; the ‘impact’ of the (planned) chaos could clearly be seen on the Peel Centre buildings themselves, which are now extensively burned and smoke-charred. Rubble has also been visible at the end of the bridge.
Whilst filming was still underway, further service companies spotted on site continue to hint at the wealth of effort being put in at Colindale.
Based at Shepperton Studios, Alpha Grip supplies a vast arrany of rigs for mounting and manipulating cameras, including cranes and vehicle systems of all kinds. It is likely to have been their equipment that was used to film the ambulance scene caught in the amateur footage, which certainly involved the wheeled trolleys for vehicles I blogged about earlier. Plowman Craven is a chartered surveying company – handily based just up the road in Hertfordshire – that has branched out very successfully into 3D laser scanning for visual effects and films, employing a technology that was originally invented for building surveys to digitise actors and stuntmen but also props and entire structures, this last especially fascinating in light of the aerial photography that has taken place and firmly implying virtual extension of the site from the air.
But all these crafts and trades have been withdrawing from the location this week, and quickly, too.
The mobile cranes and almost all of the large trucks had gone by Tuesday, as had most of the marquees and generators. The vast greenscreen next to the tram was being stripped of its green material by Wednesday – the framework followed on Friday. The process is shown in my panorama, below, which was stitched together from two shots and digitally retouched to reduce the visibility of the join.
By Friday, too, the bridge had had its ‘stonework’ unceremoniously smashed to pieces, revealing within the steel skeleton that first caught my eye way back in May – little did I know what would follow!
It’s been a real pleasure and privilege to have watched and recorded this extraordinary creative endeavour, which I’ve documented through 250+ photos, 30+ mini-movies and a few thousand words, and I’m flattered and pleased by the following it has built up. The daily session count has reached 140, and I’ve had comments and contacts from fans and passers-by and of course the journalist from the press. I hope you’ve all enjoyed it – can’t wait for next May…
By Chris Rogers, Jul 15 2014 6:37AM
The British Museum can explore, examine and extract information from its collections better than ever before following completion of the final stages of its World Conservation and Exhibitions Centre (WCEC), designed by Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners. Delicately but confidently inserted into a long, narrow space on the north west of the museum’s Bloomsbury campus, five linked pavilions in steel, glass and stone have a simple, even elegant form that belies the complexity of their function and organisation. Last Friday’s press event revealed the result, and how adroitly RSHP handled the competing demands inherent in the brief to achieve it.
Tasked with addressing the multiple shortcomings of the museum’s technical research and support spaces that had developed over time as well as providing a large, state-of-the-art exhibition space, RSHP developed a scheme whereby five pavilions, each identical in plan, would be used to accommodate these roles. The majority would be housed with three of these pavilions, placed in line and linked by service cores subsumed within the main envelope. This generated the 70-metre-long exhibition gallery, first shown to the public this spring with the Vikings exhibition. A ‘black box’, with highly-loaded solid concrete floor, multiply-penetrated ceiling for services and direct access to loading bays, it is more akin to a theatre than a traditional gallery, ready for the curators to work their magic on us visitors: the museum’s Carolyn Marsden-Smith has strikingly described it as permitting her team to create “an immersive environment that would transport visitors to another world, another time.” A fourth pavilion would project to the north and contain a large-object conservation studio, whilst a fifth to the south formed the scientific section. Laboratories would sit atop each pavilion, lit by controlled daylight through glazed facades and rooflights.
This first iteration was however rejected at planning due to concerns over its massing and proximity to the neighbouring Georgian terraces. RSHP’s response was to slim down four of the pavilions slightly but also – crucially – to bury the southern pavilion entirely below ground and lowering its rooflight to a point level with a new garden. It thus became an atrium pouring daylight into the offices and spaces below, via glass discs inset into the concrete floor panels of a mezzanine level. It was an inspired move that secured permission from Camden council and began the five-year journey whose end point was reached on Friday.
In the finished plan detached service towers connect each pavilion grouping with each other and the existing museum, holding lifts, stairs and ducting; a signature Rogers touch, of course, but here reticently clad in horizontal strips of Portland stone like John Burnet’s imposing 1914 King Edward VII block alongside. This is though very much in reference to that work rather than in deference. RSHP’s stone is roach not ashlar, its banding perpendicular to Burnet’s vertical fluting. And as though anxious to emphasise that such material when used by RSHP remains as non-loadbearing as it was when used by Burnet, these tower façades do not meet. Instead, open corners are achieved by attachment of the planes of stone in a pinwheel plan, something that becomes apparent only after careful study.
It is a subtle touch, one later confirmed as typical of a project where many of the Richard Rogers motifs are present yet heavily disguised. Thus the colour palette, for example, is sober – black-painted steel, frosty silver glass, pale white-grey Portland stone – with primary tones confined to fire doors. Whilst it would be flip to suggest this appears more in line with the softly-spoken, Northern English-raised Stirk and his dark blue Nehru suits rather than the garrulous, Italian-born Rogers and his famously bright attire, it is a pleasing thought nevertheless. More gentle amusement can be found in the publicity image of Stirk sitting atop a workbench at the centre of a cluster of articulated extraction hoses, touching one fondly like some technological Noah. With at least one critic noting the machine-like nature of the new centre beneath the stone, it might be tempting to cite Stirk as the pilot of this starship, tended by its (his) droids. I immediately thought of the cult film Silent Running, with Stirk a contemporary Freeman Lowell aboard a new Valley Forge along with Huey, Duey and Louie.
The development of this cladding was crucial in establishing a visual language for the new block that aligned it with the institutional rather than the domestic buildings on site, but in a way that “didn’t signal an entrance”, as Stirk put it, for what is after all a staff-only space; it was also vital not to compete with the Great Russell Street axis nor even with Burnet’s adjacent Montague Place entrance, originally and still a far less trafficked way in.
It is though in a cross section through the pavilions that the special ingenuity of the practice’s response to the intricate, multi-part brief is really revealed.
Two layers of studios for the examination of objects sit at the highest level, provided with indirect daylighting through a façade of intriguing textured glass ‘planks’ slipped into metal frames. With a veiny translucency that – marvellously aptly – recalls old parchment, they are intended to allow glimpses into the building from the outside and so bring animation to the exterior. Time will tell; on Friday’s gloomy press viewing the effect from the street was more reminiscent of a misted-up car windscreen, but fortunately images taken at dusk or with helmeted workers standing on the maintenance gangways that separate the inner and outer leaves do show the potential.
One floor dedicated entirely to plant comes next. Allowing access to the myriad services that feed the studios above and the exhibition space below without disturbing either, it is a rare example of a direct programmatic quote from American architect Louis Kahn’s work at his 1960 Alfred Newton Richards Medical Research Building in Philadelphia, where an exactly comparable arrangement was employed. Kahn’s famous concept of servant and served spaces is an acknowledged influence on Rogers in his previous buildings, and Stirk easily volunteers Kahn’s name when describing the new scheme in Bloomsbury. He also explained to me how this floor brings structural rigidity, permitting the column-free space of the exhibitions gallery below. This is level with the Great Court for an easy visitor experience; a ‘logistics hub’ floor lies under it, tying in to the museum’s existing internal roadway. Below this are no fewer than three basement floors of storage space for the museum’s collection. Heavy, solidly columned and stretching along the full length of the block, these currently dark and empty spaces will eventually be filled with a multi-million-pound roller racking system and thousands upon thousands of objects, project architect John McElgunn confidently stating it should take seven years to fill.
The fourth and fifth pavilions follow the same basic principles, but have very different natures. The bright, triple-height box that is the large stone-work studio on the ground floor of the northern pavilion has crystal-clear glazed walls and vast doors that give directly onto the new gallery by way of a short linking corridor, off of which stands a 3-tonne capacity goods lift that can travel through all nine floors of the building. Though fully glazed, including the doors, it usually carries “boxes with a fantastic view,” as Stirk joked during the press tour. The studio is also served by an even more impressive piece of mechanical handling equipment: the museum’s astonishing truck lift.
Designed and engineered in Italy, it features a moveable lid that, paved with granite, is invisible when at rest. It acts firstly as an adjustable access ramp for trucks coming in from Great Russell Street, which can now drive up to or indeed into the new exhibition gallery by means of an immense up-and-over door discreetly incorporated into the glazed façade. Its real trick, however, is to rise up to reveal a massive lift car that can swallow an entire 42-tonne lorry and drop it slowly down the full three-storey depth of the new basement, a total travel of nearly 20 metres. The receiving areas are equipped with a lifting beam and can, like the stores, be traversed by forklift. They match the size of the lift, and also the volume of cargo plane holds. The combined system allows the get-in of objects in daytime without having to dangerously negotiate the museum’s torturous main entrance, steps and public circulation route, the only previous option for any and every item needed to be shown in the temporary space within the old Round Reading Room, and as much freedom as possible to receive and despatch items around the world.
The final pavilion is its own revelation, especially when emerging from the gloom of the deep basement; though on the same level as the first of those floors, the area below the ground-level glass roof is a delightful, bright space, even on a dull day. Here science serves the collections and, by extension, academia and the public, with electron microscopes and X-ray machines along with meeting rooms and offices.
Addressing the press here on Friday, museum director Neil MacGregor explained how the new centre will increase the “research and conservation capacity and skills potential” of his staff and expand the object loan programme. In response to a question about whether other institutions might take advantage of the facilities, MacGregor explained that there would be more opportunities to receive interns from those places and give training.
McElgunn had earlier confirmed that limited physical public access to the conservation centre is envisaged through the medium of tours, pointing out viewing windows into some of the rooms from the corridors we walked through, but I wonder whether such an addition to the institution might not facilitate expansion of the museum concept into the digital realm. The ability to more closely examine the museum’s treasures could easily drive enhanced online content, whether live video relays of conservation activities, electronic versions of the excellent technical bulletin magazines published by the National Gallery (which MacGregor used to run) or the kind of exquisite 3D portrayal of museum items seen in Konica Minolta’s 2005 e-replica of the Venus de Milo that can be examined, rotated and zoomed to an almost microscopic level at home, becoming a real portal into the past.
MacGregor also announced a consultation later in the year to inform the future of the Round Reading Room now that exhibitions have their own dedicated space, but what of the future of the new centre itself? Will it remain at the cutting edge, or suffer the problems of so many university or commercial comparators, state of the art when built but out of date just a few years later?
Certainly it appears evident that the RSHP team has worked incredibly hard to understand the needs of the museum at a fundamental level, well before any design solution was proposed. In this one is reminded of the exceptional effort for Lloyd’s of London nearly 40 years ago, when the practice provided them with a strategy first and a building second. Of course such a “bespoke” approach, as Stirk calls it, can at the same time militate against true flexibility, but here again that seems to have been considered. As well as the many efforts to introduce true flexibility across the floors for current use, from furniture on wheels to accessible ceilings and those maintenance walkways, the centre has been constructed, says Stirk, to accommodate equipment not yet designed. Meanwhile, though not apparent during the Vikings show, McElgunn explained that the end walls of the new exhibition gallery are actually glazed and both he and the museum staff are keen to explore the possibility of a day-lit display – possibly of sculpture – to exploit this.
In fact Stirk goes much further, explaining to me that the centre is intended to allow a future director to open it up or indeed change its use completely, whilst the careful alignment of levels plus its structural openness actually have the potential to beneficially disrupt what Stirk refers to as the “series of annular rings” that have arisen through the museum’s piecemeal growth and limited visitor movement around the complex.
But coming back to the present, the conservation centre has been built with a great degree of attention to the macro and the micro. Just as the fifth floor plant space serves the exhibition gallery, so the centre is the servant of the wider museum. The flexibility and variation of the spaces created are impressive. Connected, separated, restricted, open, dark, light; the new areas embrace all of these oppositions as a reflection of the tasks being performed within them.
As one who particularly enjoys those building types that combine the mechanical with the architectural – the great newspaper printing plants, computerised book and document repositories, the last generation of telecommunication centres, the Royal Mail’s large sorting offices with their stacked double-height floors filled with personnel and equipment – I found it fascinating and absorbing to see external refinement and internal technology so closely allied. Of course the public will never see any of this, though the alert visitor using one of the glazed bridge links as he passes from the cool marble Great Court, through the Smirke rooms now reclaimed from storage duties and into the dark space of the exhibition gallery might pause, peer up the narrow slot between the London stock brick of the museum’s walls, the roach stone and glass plank exterior of the gallery to the blue sky above both and appreciate the many different textures – of material, of light, of history – on show.
Throughout, the architecture is crisp, minimal and precise. At no point does it dominate – instead it merely (but vitally) enables. To see RHSP create such a building is satisfying, especially when they remain widely known for dazzling colours and striking shapes which, whilst always accompanied by a convincing narrative, sometimes seem wilful. Here, at last, is a place where their exposed services and ruthlessly functional aesthetic seem thoroughly at home – indeed, at work, for the benefit of all of us.
(Plans: RSHP; photographs Chris Rogers except the first, of the glass-roofed atrium at WCEC, at WCEC, which is by Paul Raftery, 2014)
Paul Raftery, 2014
By Chris Rogers, Jul 12 2014 6:53PM
Air, fire and water were employed at Colindale this week as location shooting for Avengers: Age of Ultron continued. A helicopter used for aerial filming was parked on the playing field, ‘smoke damage’ appeared on the buildings and actual smoke drifted over the site, whilst a high-volume water pumping truck stood by. This and the intensive effort concentrated on the bridge might confirm information that has come to me from another film fan who was told by a guard that what the crew are filming at Peel Centre is in fact the finale to the film.
The helicopter was a white Eurocopter Squirrel with a distinctive camera sphere attached to its nose. No markings could be seen but an online search shows a similar aircraft available from Helicopter Film Services based at Denham aerodrome near Uxbridge, which is a few minutes’ flying time from Colindale. Given much of the site is occupied by the film-making equipment itself, considerable erasure of the surroundings would be needed to render any aerial filming of the buildings usable. But this, and the fact that windows and the surrounding concrete have been blackened not just at two places on the west frontage of Peel House but also on the residential towers, does confirm another suspicion of mine, that the rather Brutalist design of the latter might make them a suitable stand-in for Soviet-era housing.
The Airwall inflatable greenscreen is still seeing extensive use, as are numbers of rigid, square greenscreens mounted on the forks of telescopic handlers. Shown with the screen face-down in my picture, this allows them to be placed wherever they are needed on the site and quite freely manipulated in three dimensions once there. The complex aerial ballet of the mobile cranes is fascinating, as they hold lights and other equipment. Such lighting, also seen on the top of scissor lifts, is often seen switched on now; a crowd was actually apparent on set this afternoon and a camera crane or jib was being employed near the bridge last week. Various trucks from Panavision, a fan for wind effects, a gas tanker that could have been for flame bars and more cherry pickers were also seen this week.
The mysterious shrouded ‘aircraft fuselage’ has now gone from its spot near the tube line, though not before further slippage of its tarpaulin revealed enough to almost certainly confirm its aeronautic nature. If so it might confirm the climactic nature of the scenes being shot. The tram is still in place at the northern part of the site, though, so I’ve posted a different image of it that I took a while back.
I had my first run-in with a security guard today whilst taking photographs through the hole in their gate! To be fair he was from Mace rather than the film crew, but asked what I was doing and whether I had asked permission. I explained that as I was on public land I didn’t need to, and he was disputing that when two young men who had just passed me going in the other direction came back and one of them – staggeringly – flashed a police badge at the guard and said “He’s right, it’s public land, let him carry on”! I thanked them; the guard was a bit bemused since apparently he had had support from police before but he was fine about it and went away.
Finally, it must be a comfort to cast and crew that their exertions will be rewarded even before release of the finished film; prominent amongst the marquees on site is one marked in very large letters ‘BAR’…
By Chris Rogers, Jul 5 2014 3:12PM
"This is the biggest electric train set a boy ever had!" Orson Welles’s famous pronouncement on encountering the pleasures and possibilities of the movie studio must surely have proven true for Joss Whedon this week as filming for Avengers: Age of Ultron finally began at Peel Centre, where the sheer weight of materiel in play now is astonishing.
A fleet of white articulated trucks and motorhomes appeared almost overnight within the cordoned-off part of the playing field next to the marquee; no fewer than five mobile cranes reaching as high as ten storeys are in use, principally for lighting; and a container lorry – the significance of its open hands logo a mystery – partially blocked tantalising signs of a battle scene at the land end of the bridge that may have been shooting yesterday. A dozen smaller cranes and telescopic handlers are supporting and shifting equipment around the site, and there are the wrecked cars, some scooters, some water bowsers and other action vehicles too.
More quietly, the crest of Sokovia looks superb on the concave façade of Peel House’s projecting entrance block, as my just-developed photographs show. The double-headed eagle surmounted by a crown is actually deeply-modelled in three dimensions, an impressive piece of production design that shows a real sensitivity to Peel House and to civic architecture of that late 1960s period. I’m struggling a little with a translation of the lettering – feel free to try…
Around the back, the giant ‘Телеком’ (‘Telecom’) advert on top of Peel House is complete, the final ‘O’ now picked out in blue. Looking more closely at all of my images, the Cyrillic signage affixed to the wings of the building can be seen to include ‘ФОТО СТУДИO’, which would appear to translate as ‘PHOTO STUDIO’, with another which might indicate ‘HOTEL’. This would fit with the idea of the building being used to simulate a typical high street. Similar signs are present at the ground floor level of at least one of the former residential towers, themselves not unrelated to equivalents from the Soviet area, wags might note.
Recording and noting all of this remains a challenge, of course, leaving aside the limited time I have each day. The production starts works very early, but mornings are difficult given the need to get to my day job in town and the small problem of shooting into the sun.
Evenings are much better, though, as I have both time and the weather on my side (except when it rains, like it did on Monday).
The sun is behind the train now, lighting the playing field and the west side of Peel House beautifully. Hopping off a northbound tube at Colindale and taking the next train southbound to Hendon gives a second chance, and this can be repeated in reverse as many times as needed – about four is usually enough, shooting still and moving images. It’s surprising how much registers in your brain each time, but also how much you can only see when examining the pictures later. The two forms of vision are complementary, actually, since getting something on film as the trees whip past your vision and part only for a split second or two is tricky.
Later, a drive along the road to the north of the site (and the expenditure of fifty pence to park) allows a more relaxed view of the east or ‘church and tram’ side through the railings and a convenient hole in the contractor’s makeshift wooden gate; on Wednesday this afforded a perfect view of the Sokovia crest.
And the audience for my work is growing. Visits to the blog are averaging 80-100 per day, and on Friday I received an email from a local press journalist. Who knows where it all might lead??
By Chris Rogers, Jul 1 2014 5:53PM
The arms of Sokovia have been proudly mounted on the concave façade of the entrance to Peel House! Surmounted by appropriate lettering, the double-headed eagle crest commonly associated with various real-life Eastern European states was installed today, and confirms my suppositions. Meanwhile, a unique 80-metre inflatable greenscreen that can be raised or dropped in seconds and was
It was the material of Canadian firm Aircover Inflatables’ pioneering new system that I had earlier mistaken for waterproofing as it lay draped over the shipping containers it is mounted on for extra height. The sheer size of the screen, seen both deflated and erected in the accompanying images, illustrates once more the scale of the work at Colindale, which is now achieving an extraordinary pace.
It must be the case that some filming has already occurred. The Captain America mural that started this story off all those days ago has now been ‘graffitied’ with what looks like ‘Resist’, rusty, burned-out cars have already appeared and disappeared from the vehicle storage area previously occupied by the police vehicles, and the giant crane seen on Saturday has moved all around the site. There are indeed dozens of vehicles on the playing field part of the site now, for use behind and in front of the cameras, including more cranes and cherry pickers. A large marquee has been put up on the other side of the field and yet more (if smaller) greenscreens have been thrown up.
The dressing of the other, eastern side of Peel House to echo the Italian locations continues, and I am now sure that it is Aosta in general and that city’s Hotel Turin in particular that is the specific model.
A square and two streets in that town were taken over at the end of March 2014, with shooting also taking place at the indoor market hall. The main action though took place outside in the Piazza Cavalieri di Vittorio Veneto. Usually used as a car park, the space was turned into a battleground involving Scarlett Witch and Quicksilver, played by Elizabeth Olsen and Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner). Crucially, the opposite side of the small square is dominated by the hotel, built in 1965 or ’67 according to sources and with a row of shops on its ground floor behind a colonnade of square columns and two projecting wings of varying shape. Avengers’ location scouts have been reported as being delighted to find the hotel and other buildings in Aosta; "It seems to be in a city in Eastern Europe," exclaimed one. I hope the locals took that in the right way...
Peel House is in fact a remarkable double for this brooding building, right down to the same notched corner detail on one of its wings. A giant ‘Телеком’ (‘Telecom’ in Russian) advert sign is now visible on its roof facing the tram site – indeed, it is so large it can be seen from the playing field side too – whilst further photographs I took at the weekend (not yet available) show further Cyrillic signage.
Interestingly, one Italian site speculated that Aosta and its fellow towns would be representing Latveria, a fictional Eastern European state in the Avengers comics that lies between the actual nations of Hungary, Serbia and Romania. It did though admiringly point out the level of detail used on the set, citing cigarette vending machines, parking meters, shop signs, posters and newspapers all written in Cyrillic.
I chanced a quick foray along the road that gives access to the site on Sunday – there was no guard this time – only to find, astonishingly, the road blocked off just before the gate to the training centre. I’ve no idea how the residents of the cul-de-sac beyond – assuming it is still occupied – are supposed to get in and out. Although the same low brick wall and railing would normally offer a perfect view toward the north side of Peel House, I was wryly amused to see that opaque material had been fixed to the metal uprights, blocking it. After executing a three-point-turn to position myself for a fast getaway and leaving the engine running, I dashed out to see if anything could in fact be seen through the gaps at the bottom, but no joy.
By Chris Rogers, Jun 28 2014 3:30PM
Temporary direction signs featuring abbreviated references to ‘After-Party’, the known coded shooting title of Avengers: Age of Ultron, confirm the production’s presence at Colindale, whilst new photographs and the rapid pace of developments even since Thursday disclose the astonishing scale and scope of the work taking place across the location, which is now verified as representing the fictional Eastern European city of Sokovia that was indeed first created on the Italian portion of the Ultron shoot.
Most strikingly revealed this weekend is a large mediaeval or Renaissance-era stone building, partly damaged, that has been fabricated on the northern part of the site. Perhaps a church or monastery given its dome, arcading and what can be seen of its façade, it does not appear to exactly match the Fort Bard location, but certainly wouldn’t look out of place alongside it or contemporary architecture from the other Italian towns where filming has taken place. The narrow strip of greenscreen material surmounting it facilitates digital extension of the physical building.
Nearby, an actual European tram car can be seen, complete with the familiar diamond-shaped pantograph that collects electricity from overhead wires; these, too, are present, suspended via right-angled brackets from metal poles. These last are quite crude, although careful examination of one of my photographs also shows period telegraph or tram wire poles installed a few metres away outside Peel House.
Cyrillic lettering and signage has been added to the parapet and facades of its rear wings, as was done on the Italian shoot where the Sokovia concept was even carried through to the tiny detail of an ‘SOK’ international identifier on the licence plates of the cars used, something that I searched in vain for earlier when trying to determine their identity! A mural, propaganda display or advertising poster now occupies one entire wall on the Colindale building. A ‘before’ archive image of this side of the block is included for comparison – you can see how the different plans, heights and depths of the wings create variety, for a convincing streetscape. More streets are thus being simulated on this part of the campus, in addition to the urban landscapes created to the south around the bridge.
The statue outside the opposite, entrance side to Peel House that is visible on the new photograph and the archive image that accompanied my original post is actually that of Sir Robert Peel, Victorian prime minister and founder of the Metropolitan Police, after whom the training centre is named. It is a protected monument and will be moved when the site is redeveloped but I would not be surprised if it masquerades in the Avengers film as a ‘Sokovian’ founding father – certainly this part of Peel House could pass for a post-war town hall or civic centre.
Greenscreen material mounted horizontally now surrounds the far end of that structure, and scaffolding towers are still being put up. More matting has been laid, especially around the outside of the fenced perimeter that has been created on the playing field. This would facilitate the erection of privacy screens when actual filming begins.
The massive greenscreen can now be calculated – by reference to the tram – as being about 150-200 metres long and 15 high. It has been placed along the eastern edge of the site, simultaneously screening activity from the private cul-de-sac of housing beyond.
A telescopic mobile crane from NMT Crane Hire was erected on Friday evening, its extended jib towering over the site. The jib holds a cross-boom, stabilised with guy wires and from which two cables hang. NMT is associated with Pinewood Studios (which is owned by the same group as Shepperton, home of the Ultron production), and so the boom will probably be used for ‘flying’ an actor, stunt performer or physical prop – possibly the shrouded object that has sat in front of the Captain America mural for weeks and is now, thanks to a loose tarpaulin, looking like a partial full-size mock-up of the rear fuselage of an aircraft. A similar but larger and more futuristic item has been photographed in Italy and interpreted as the boarding ramp of a SHIELD quinjet.
All of the new material above comes from my using the road skirting the north of the Peel Centre site, from which the set is in fact plainly if distantly visible, something I hadn’t previously appreciated. The fall of land away from the road, the presence of railings only separating it from the site and the clearance previously of buildings associated with the wider redevelopment of the site all help. I’ve updated the aerial image to more accurately reflect the layout for the film.
Surprisingly, other than one gesticulating team member at the gate used by contractors Mace and an attentive guard at the ‘AP LOC’ entrance – which is actually just off the approach road to the cul-de-sac mentioned above – security is entirely absent. Amusingly, I did see a fellow fan this morning stop their car briefly, jump out, and take a quick photograph before driving off again – it seems word on my scoop is spreading!
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