Tuesday 18 May 2010

Contain your enthusiasm

For every bucolic riverside scene in a quaint English town, I can point to a derelict, devastated landscape where the river is little more than an open sewer.


Can I introduce the River Lea, in downstream London? This part of the city has traditionally been both remote and inaccessible, a liminal place of salt marsh and crooks, the people barely scraping a living in what was, at various times, among the most polluted landscapes on earth (parts of it are little better today).


Where it finally joins the Thames the area is known as Bow Creek, notorious in Dickens' time as one of the vilest places in London. It at least developed some industries to help raise the peasants' living standards, and ultimately became one of the largest docks in London before becoming home to the workshops of Trinity House, the organisation responsible for buoys, lightships and lighthouses. In post-industrial Britain they've all closed down or moved away, leaving behind mostly dereliction, paranoia and despair.


Why am I boring you with information about this unprepossessing place? Because, fittingly, it's now being reborn as the home of a concentrated collection of container architecture -- modern buildings made from old shipping containers.


Renamed Trinity Buoy Wharf, a few fragments of restored industrial buildings are littered around the site, but several groups of rather fine container buildings have now joined them.


The aesthetic is delightful.


They exude a strange mixture of joie de vivre and solid permanence. It must be the steel and hard geometry contrasting with the jaunty angles and jolly colours.


These containers now house studios and apartments for artists, as well as an assortment of creative industries and rehearsal spaces for performing arts companies.


The earliest block consists of rust-red containers in a very neat geometric stack, while the second block is made up of multi-coloured containers in a much bolder arrangement.


The third and newest block is made up of shiny polished steel containers, all with rather fine balconies and aerial walkways.


My growing interest in this form of architecture was fuelled by my lovely friend albeo, who has inspired me to search out these strange and interesting forms. Thanks, Mister: much appreciated!


In a couple of days I'll post something about some of the overseas projects made of containers -- mostly rather innovative houses or weekend "cottages".

7 comments:

Lady V said...

I think one of our friends used to shag someone who lived in one of those. Not Albeo, another reprobate. Delightful!

LeDuc said...

And now I am intrigued!

Come to mine soon and I'll ply you with pizza and DVDs if you'll only release the name.

With full, salacious details, of course.

Lady V said...

Oh alright then. Forthwith!

albeo said...

Thank YOU Mr for the lovely finds on this subject. Always one of my favourites!

Anonymous said...

Puts me in mind of Buenos Aires but they enjoy a rather sunnier climate there; I fear that in the Lea Valley rust and algae will be among the lesser hazards they face

Lee said...

It is an imaginative use of things that are around. The portholes for windows near the water make a neat theme. But I wonder what it is like inside. For example, if the people upstairs are doing their danse repetitions, does it sound like an elephant stampede overhead? When one is trying to 'shag', for example.

LeDuc said...

Lee: Yeah, that's a good point. I understand the latest designs feature recycled rubber elements which form a sound-proof barrier between each floor and from side-to-side.

Some of the examples I've seen are much better insulated than "normal" new homes, too, so temperature variation should be manageable (the high conductivity of steel would otherwise be a big problem).

And some of the neatest designs I've seen in exceptionally hot climates (Texas, for instance), feature a separate roof "floating" above the roof of the containers, often a green roof made with sedum or grass, some using photovoltaics. This top roof provides shade from direct sunlight and ventilation space above the containers.

There are lots of ways of adapting them to the requirements of the specific site -- and that's what all good architecture should do. Think of a shipping container as an element in a building, like a more sophisticated brick or slate tile. The way you use those varies from site to site, and similarly with containers.

I'll probably post again on this in a few days.