Interzone 2 / Friars Mill Update

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

This is a companion piece to my recent ‘Entropic Gates 2’ bulletin.  It draws most of its images and observations from the same chilly, early January stroll, which triggered that one.

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

My walk took in part of the district of Leicester near my home, which I’ve sometimes seen described on maps as Blackfriars.  Although long since absorbed into the city, and subsequently into the large St. Nicholas’ parish, it was once a more clearly defined quarter, just outside the city wall and centred upon the Dominican Friary for which it was named.  It’s an area I pass through repeatedly, and one which has appeared in numerous images and posts on this blog in the past, (whether tacitly acknowledged or not).  It definitely features significantly in my own ‘Mental Map’ or ‘Image Of The City’ [1.], and it pinned at one edge by the Northgate Street/Sanvey Gate/Soar Lane junction featured in some of my current ‘Map’ paintings.

'Map 2', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2015

I wrote a post entitled ‘Interzone’ some time ago, which detailed some of the qualities of dilapidation, degeneration and neglect that characterise much of the neighbourhood, and the way that layers of Leicester’s economic and industrial history might be read through its streets and buildings.  Any Medieval identity is now negligible, apart from the occasional street name (‘Holy Bones’ being a particular favourite).  In recent times, the prevailing theme has been one of ever-diminishing backwash from a 19th or early to mid 20th century manufacturing heyday.

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

Perhaps the most obvious signifier of this is the old redbrick hulk of the Victorian Great Central Railway Station and its adjacent truncated viaduct and guano-encrusted bridge.  The original station building and the arches behind, now house a series of small businesses, mostly of the car fixing/spraying/bashing variety and it’s not unusual to catch the whiff of cellulose on the air as one passes [2.].  More than anything else, these enterprises seem to characterise the ad hoc, peripheral opportunism of much of the zone’s current economic activity.  Visually and tactilely, there’s more than a little of the grungy, ‘Mad Max’ [3.] aesthetic about many of them.  They seem redolent of the urge to make the best of a bad job amidst the relics of Leicester’s (indeed Britain’s) once, much grander commercial heritage.

Whilst the idea of peripheral ‘Edgelands’ [4.] has had much currency in recent years, I am equally engaged by those areas of cities that, whilst they may be quite centrally situated, seem to be lost in space or time between more prosperous or populated quarters.  Often, it feels as though the city is holding its breath in such places, or that time has slowed enough for gravity to reassert itself and for more organic, less driven, processes of transformation to unfold for a while.

Railway Arch, West Leicester, January 2015

I didn’t lurk long enough in the freezing, murky conditions to photograph the arches this time, but I was intrigued by the appearance there of a new business, seemingly of the property management variety.  It seems particularly incongruous in its vaguely aspirational presentation, but may be a significant clue to the changes possibly about to overtake the area.

Railway Arch, West Leicester, January 2015

A more obvious signal of change is the huge construction crane that now dominates the whole area from a long-cleared site a few hundred metres from both the arches, and the graffiti-augmented gates already discussed.  It was to this that my lens was next drawn and, in particular, to its sparse geometry, (ever the formalist), and the way its jib almost disappeared into the rapidly descending mist.

Construction Site, West Leicester, January 2015

A few years back, during the pre-recession boom in property prices, stylish ‘Urban Living’ and the Blairite vision of a Café Culture Britain, this whole area seemed likely to disappear beneath a welter of glossy new apartment blocks. In the event, only one was actually completed and has stood rather forlornly on its canal side plot, ever since, amidst the surrounding dereliction [5.].  There were also rumours of a planned monster tower of glass on an adjacent site, but that hubristic scheme seemingly evaporated, along with much else from the period.  Instead, what have been built in Western Leicester, in ever-increasing numbers, throughout the entire period, are student accommodation blocks.

Construction Site Crane, West Leicester, January, 2015

Mostly, such edifices have so far proliferated a little to the south, clustering around the massive elliptical tower I wrote about some time back.  More than anything, they seem to symbolise De Montfort University’s [6.] reinvention of itself as a huge property corporation/lifestyle facilitator that does a little educating on the side.  I suppose they also signify the oft-trumpeted shift from a manufacturing economy, to one based on knowledge and services.  I was bemused some time ago to discover that Blackfriars, and indeed, the neighbouring, traditionally working class area that I myself inhabit, were to be absorbed into something now redesignated as the ‘DMU Square Mile’.  Whatever else this might imply, on the ground - the reality would appear to be the onward march of the student apartments.  This is exactly what is now being constructed on the site from which the huge crane rises.

Student Accommodation Block (Under Construction), West Leicester, May 2012

Once upon a time, many students inhabited shabby terraced houses of the type I still live in, and were, if only partially, integrated into a neighbourhood [7.].  There was still, (just), the possibility of some form of bohemian lifestyle, however self-deludingly imagined.  The future would seem to be one in which they gaze over the rooftops from insulated, Wi-Fi-enabled hutches, whilst most of their needs are met and controlled by their academic parent institution.

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

Ultimately, as the remaining light reverted to the spirit-sucking grey that only a January afternoon in the Midlands can really achieve, the majority of my photographs concentrated on another site that has appeared here more than once, - namely Friar’s Mill.  As already described, this splendid waterside factory building had stood empty for several years before being gutted by fire in 2012.  Dating from the eighteenth century, and with it’s mellow red brick, attractive proportions, and lantern-topped pitched roof, it was once one of the prime landmarks of Leicester’s industrial and architectural landscape.  In my time in the city, I’ve witnessed it degenerate from a working factory, to a vacant haunt of rough sleepers, Urban Explorers and graffiti artists, and then a roofless, boarded-up shell.

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

If, as it now appears, a second wave of attempted gentrification is to wash over this portion of Blackfriars, a new iteration of Friar’s Mill may be at the heart of it.  It is currently enveloped in scaffolding and wrapped like a Christo art project, (the visual impact of which was actually what attracted me back for a closer look).  Signage and idealised illustrations on the perimeter fence suggest that it is about to be both restored and reimagined as a small business centre.  I have no idea how all this will ultimately alter the area as a whole, and Leicester is certainly full of sites where entropy and picturesque neglect still wash up intriguingly against over-optimistic or misplaced attempts to construct a shiny new future [8.].

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

Much has been written on the phenomenon of urban gentrification, and how the adoption of an area by artists, ‘creatives’ and other generally funky types often precedes it.  Once the planners, property investors and marketeers notice, it’s usually only a matter of time before the low rents (essential) and organic grunge appeal (desirable) that created the situation, are sacrificed to something far more generic, over-designed and, of course, investable.

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2015

For all that, I can’t really claim that Blackfriars is currently any kind of freewheeling creative cauldron [9.].  There is one small commercial gallery, and a recording studio nearby, but otherwise, the artistic activities in the area may not extend far beyond a few graffiti enthusiasts, and myself wandering around, inexplicably photographing stuff falling apart.  That’s probably why I like it so much really.  It seems likely that the tenor of at least part of the area is likely to change over the next year or two, but to just what extent is hard to say.  I suppose I could mourn the loss of yet another entropic playground, but the more constructive course would probably be to just get on with monitoring the processes of change.  Ultimately, I want my own practice to be about finding imaginative/subversive ways of responding to the shifting situations that actually arise, - not just about trying to preserve my own derelict comfort zones in visual aspic.

Friar's Mill, West Leicester, January 2014

Postscript:

Your eyes don't deceive you; I went back to take a few supplementary photos, under much more favourable illumination, as this post unfolded.

[1.]:  Kevin Lynch, ‘The Image Of The City’, Cambridge MA, MIT Press, 1960.

This book is currently informing some of my own relationship with my urban surroundings, although perhaps not entirely in the ways that the author originally intended.  I’m sure I’ll be referring to it again in the near future.

[2.]:  Another, somewhat incongruous, influence on the general ambience of this area, is the regular sound of gospel singing and enthusiastic preaching from the Pentecostal church that operates from a dilapidated street corner building.

[3.]:  George Miller (Dir.), ‘Mad Max’, Kennedy Miller Productions, Australia, 1979: ‘Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior’, (As Above), 1981:

George Miller & George Ogilvie (Co-Dirs.), Mad Max 3: Beyond The Thunderdome’ (As Above), 1985.

[4.]:  The setting for much of J.G. Ballard’s dystopian vision, and also eulogised in:

Paul Farley & Michael Simmons Roberts, ‘Edgelands: Journeys Into England’s True Wilderness’, London, Jonathan Cape, 2011

[5.]:  It can be seen, complete with its gimmicky, green, waveform roofline, in the background of a couple of these shots.

[6.]:  Formally Leicester Polytechnic.  I am myself an alumnus of both Leicester and Bristol Polytechnics, and always enjoyed the idea of being a Poly student, and of a higher education that might equip one with practical as well as academic skills.  Some would argue that the haste with which all such institutions sought to rebrand themselves as Universities, (with all that implies), is just one of many misguided steps taken by the British education system in recent decades.  Would that a mortar board and hired robes were enough to signify a well-rounded graduate.

[7.]:  Although not always without some friction, it must be admitted.  (Notice I just avoided saying “In my day”).

[8.]:  Leicester’s civic motto, ‘Semper Eadem’, translates to ‘Ever The Same’).  Paradoxically, this seems to be both accurate and inaccurate in equal measure.

[9.]:  In fact, Leicester has made attempts to construct some kind of ‘Cultural Quarter’ elsewhere, in recent years.  Whilst not without its attractions, (Curve Theatre, Phoenix Media Centre, etc.), this feels only partially successful, to date.  Certainly, it is something far more self-consciously imposed from above and lacking any true foundation.  I do question just how much it has really impacted on the lives of most of Leicester’s inhabitants, and the question of what exactly constitutes ‘Culture’ is a whole other essay.  In fairness though, some interesting old buildings have found a new lease of life, and at least one dynamic new one been created, in the process.