Making our built spaces work...

What really matters to you?

How can you voice those needs?

Why does it matter?

Playful textures - faux fur and Astro-turf. Participatory structures – slides rather than stairs and swings rather than swivel chairs. Open plan spaces and broken-down hierarchies of place, and everywhere plants and varieties of seating.

The lap top that has to be cleared away so that breakfast can be eaten. The corner of a bedroom as consulting room, a kitchen that doubles up as a conference venue.

People who’ve become, over the last seven decades, used to the division of labour and life are re-acclimatising to blurred boundaries, where work can feel more like home, and home is a series of spaces you demand more from and experience more pressure in.

My life has been free-lance for some time now. It’s a sort of nomadism, so much so that I’ve considered living entirely on the move. Over the years I’ve worked with individuals and groups within their offices, and in conference venues, and more recently in co-working spaces, and on-line. I’ve even found a secret garden in the heart of London that offers a sanctuary for difficult conversations.

I’ve been curious about the built space since I was a kid sitting at the top of the stairs, listening to the low rhythm of a clock beating its way through the silence of the night. I was fascinated by the space the sound made, cutting through the darkness and my fear.

Recently, two encounters have happened to bring my focus back to look at the built space, to look at what spaces are forced upon us, and how we can mitigate that force. In other words to look at what spaces are given to us and how we respond to them, and, surely just as importantly, what spaces we can create and what we want of them.

My first encounter was designed by Paul Bellot; built entirely of red brick, it’s a brilliant example of early 20th century expressionism, heavily influenced by Moorish architecture. Entering the building, the calm coolness and curving arches opens you up into the moment and invites you to sit a while and be. That Paul Bellot was a French Benedictine monk, and the building I’ve just spoken about is the church at Quarr Abbey, on the Isle of Wight, a small island off England’s south coast, has relevance, but how much?

I was brought up within a protestant Christian tradition, educated by catholic nuns and married as a Quaker. I am now Openly Curious. I have form when it comes to Christian spaces. However, to me some of the most famous of them lack any reflective feel or divine presence, whatever your understanding of that might be. Therefore, am I tuned to seek and recognise calm reflection in a space? I wonder. I know it’s something needed for deep thinking and even deeper listening. That sort of stillness can be almost too much. Your heart can miss a beat in stillness that silent.

My second encounter wasn’t with a specific building, but with the work of Lubaina Himid at Tate Modern. It’s an encounter I hope to revisit many times. What follows are questions Himid herself poses, and curators Amrita Dhallu and Michael Wellen’s own commentary on this particular thread of her work.

“We live in clothes,

We live in buildings

-

Do they fit us?”

‘Himid’s work challenges the rigidity of the architectural structures we inhabit. She paints homes for women with curving walls that suggest movement and growth over time. Would our lives feel different if the built environment was tailored to our needs and desires?

Himid’s questioning of structural rules and regulations reminds us that we ought to have agency to create and alter our own spaces. She invites us to consider what kinds of spaces could nurture our creativity, and what tools and materials we need to imagine and make freely.’

“What kind of buildings do women want to live and work in? Has anyone ever asked us?”

My initial reaction to Lubaina’s questions was a smile of recognition, and then to question that recognition. Why did this speak to me so clearly? Because it speaks straight to my need to create a particular space to work in with others. As the artist knows, our built environments profoundly effect what we do and how we do it, what we think and how we think it, and what we feel and how we react to those feelings. Therefore, for me working in spaces that offer a sense of safety, of warmth, of fun, discovery and calm, a place of focused relaxation is key.

Naturally, an element of that is the atmosphere we create within a space, partly tangible - the colour of the walls, the shape of the chairs, the choice of decoration and partly intangible – the energies and spirt we bring with us and we create within the space.

However, behind all of these tangible / intangibles is the built space itself.

Decisive action over the protection of natural spaces (habitats) is key to halting environmental degradation. It is a given, and no argument is countenanced. In the same vein, opening up a conversation about our built space is key if we are to give individual voice and collective action to create human-sized flexible spaces that work for all our living working futures.

'Human-sized flexible spaces that encourage clear divisions and allow us to let go of the working day and embrace our social sphere.

Human-sized spaces that reflect who we are and what we want.

Human-sized spaces that meet our individual needs regardless of role, income or status.

Human-sized spaces that embrace innovation and acknowledge age old traditions.

Human-sized buildings that reflect our cultural narratives and speak to specific social histories.

Human-sized buildings that are as quirky or classical, ordered or unruly, exuberant or restrained as we need and desire.'

Human-sized spaces invite everyone to dream for themselves, giving individual voice to collective visions. Unless we all engage in where we live and where we work, those blurred boundaries won’t be a sign of autonomy and flourishing, but of 24/7 working and uniform spaces. Spaces where public facilities are engineered by corporate mission and private money, and our domestic environments echo the same engineered space with a slightly warmer hue. In this version, a visitor from another age would have to look very closely to divine whether they were visiting your home or your place of work.

Entirely on the Move?

La Caminante de Luna