Look Again 2

 

All Images, Northeast Leicester, August 2020

Here's another of Leicester's examples of forgotten Modernist architecture.  This one's only a few hundred metres from Cobden House (as featured in a recent post), and is clearly visible from the busy road that separates the two buildings.  In this case however, the original function has altered rather more dramatically [1.].  A greater degree of dilapidation is also in evidence.

Up until recent years, the building was operated by Leicester City Council as a training centre, serving various public sectors.  Indeed, it may have been purpose-built as such, I suspect.  If it originally had a fancy name - I'm not sure what it was.  By the time I attended a couple of training sessions there, sometime over the last decade, it was coming to the end of that role, and was simply referred to as 'St Matthews Training Centre'.  Despite the neglect and dilapidation that were already evident, it was however clear that it had originally be rather well equipped as an institution.  That in itself probably tells a story about the decline in public service provision in recent times.  Certainly the Local Authority here (as elsewhere - no doubt), has been forced to divest itself of many such facilities, and any work-related training I've received in recent years has been farmed out to private contractors and increasingly, accessed through a screen.

Anyway, my reacquaintance with the building was again, the result of my extensive two-wheeled explorations of less familiar tracts of the city, over recent months, and the significant expansion and adaptation of my mental map, which has resulted.  On numerous occasions, I have found myself plotting new routes through the St Matthews Estate, immediately to the Northeast of the City Centre - an area I had previously only ever really skirted around (and usually by car).  The estate itself is an extensive tract of public housing, made up mainly of numerous communal, but relatively low-rise blocks.  Although the relative poverty, and massively altered demographics [2.] of the neighbourhood, are clear for all to see, the extensive greenery between blocks, and carefully laid-out street plan still suggest something of the social idealism of the Post-War Consensus years, in which it was built.

Such complexes have tended to acquire a pretty poor reputation in subsequent years.  At worst, they've been labelled hot-beds of crime and social dysfunction.  Often they've been regarded as failed experiments and, in many places - slated for demolition or redevelopment.  Elsewhere, they've simply been allowed to slide into dilapidation and neglect, as public funds dwindle, and any idea of adequate social housing provision is allowed to wither on the vine.  However, I've yet to feel any real tangible threat in St Matthews, as I've pedalled my way ever deeper into the maze of streets and interconnecting alleyways and enclosed spaces.  The overall atmosphere is far from depressing, and there actually seems to be a considerable air of communality still operating.  My bike, camera and person remain unmolested, and I've generally been left alone to sample the various small thrills and revelations that occur as new territory unfolds before me.

As with Cobden House, this post is less about the factual aspects of a chosen subject, and more to do with that moment of immediate encounter, when something familiar - but overlooked, is suddenly revealed in a new light.  It's about that fleeting impression - triggering a subjective reaction, from which various, more considered thought-processes may flow.  I'd previously approached the building's canopied main entrance via the main road, with a practical reason to be there.  This time, I came upon it's most neglected aspect, unexpectedly, and from within the estate - having first navigated a series of interlocking, and slightly scruffy, public spaces.  I was very much in 'drifting mode', and the moment of surprise was critical - as was the perennial thrill of making new and unexpected connections, both on the map, and in time.  Viewed in blistering sunlight, the stack of shabby windows and Constructivist roof-level accents rose from a weed-infested compound, in something less reminiscent of mere societal change - and more of an wider civilisation in collapse.  For want of a better reference, it felt like a distinctly Ballardian moment.  The subsequent repeat visits to photograph - from various angles, a building that was there all along, and the kind of thought processes outlined above, all flowed from that one instant.

It may all sound a bit fanciful - I'll admit.  But I can only repeat that this whole process is all about snatching those moments of weird, ineffable poetry from 'The Everyday'.  It's also about accepting that, for me - they often arise from my being in a certain place, at a particular time, and under a specific set of conditions.

[1.] & [2.]:  Eagle eyes will spot that the building has most recently been occupied by an Islamic educational organisation - a fact which very much reflects the demands of the current community.