Can developers make a place? On London’s industrial regeneration

The Southbank Centre: a successful piece of place-making. Image: Getty.

With the launch of the most recent draft of the London Plan, the phrase ‘Good Growth’ is now firmly on every property professional’s lips. This simple, and pleasantly alliterative, soundbite coined in the mayor’s office is the latest way to talk about London’s future as we battle against all the usual problems.

At the heart of ‘Good Growth’ is the biggest planning trend in our city, as well as many others all over the world: namely, the rise of the mixed-use development and the ensuing move towards placemaking.

For those not in the know, placemaking sounds like jargon, but is actually a quite useful way of describing a very specific approach to regeneration.  All studious Jane Jacobs-reading planners now accept that you can’t just slap a fancy new park into the middle of a redevelopment and hope for the best. Places have to be filled with a diverse mix of users to make them a success. Whether that means pop-up burger vans or art installations, silent discos or roof-top yoga, London is heaving with a new wave of programmed places.

There are many examples of placemaking on show in today’s London: newly-redeveloped areas which have managed to strike the delicate balance between historically sensitive buildings, attractive public realm and activity that turns a new space into a destination. Every London area tends to have its own specific look and feel anyway: perhaps that lends itself more easily to this particular brand of character focused re-development.

The South Bank was perhaps first area to benefit from the transformative effects of placemaking. The area is now synonymous with a plethora of technicolour entertainments: street food pop-ups, art installations, rooftop saunas, igloos, pink buses, giant inflatable purple cows; the Christmas market in December and the deckchair strewn fake beach in July. Sure, some of its food offer has got a little chainy, but its iconic cultural venues complemented by the bars on any available terrace of their brutalist architecture, ensure it’s filled with a huge array of people every day and night of the week. Not bad going for a place which used to be a cardboard city notorious for muggings.

But the other side of the coin is that the original character of a newly made place will be bleached by commercial developers that seek to replace the local community with wealthy leisure seekers and tourists. At the South Bank this trend has been symbolised by the gradual shrinking of the iconic skate park (although its future is now secure thanks to the efforts of the Long Live Southbank Campaign).

“Lots of organisations are involved in placemaking,” says Emily Gee, London planning director at Historic England. “And many are doing it well. At Historic England our main premise is that heritage is key to good placemaking and that this should start from analysis and understanding about the history and character of a place.”

By way of example, she points to the Kings Cross redevelopment, highlighted in Historic England’s recent Translating Good Growth for the Historic Environment report. The scheme involved a widely-praised, historically sensitive masterplan which includes much spectacular design: Thomas Heatherwick’s visionary re-imagining of Coal Drops Yard, opening in autumn 2018, say; or the re-purposing of the old gas holders into luxury apartments.

What really sets King’s Cross apart however is that it is the epitome of a mixed-used development. Its 67 acres of once largely derelict industrial land has been transformed into a “new piece of city” comprising homes, offices, university buildings, cultural venues and public realm, all ‘activated’ by an eclectic events programme that entertains thousands of visitors annually.

While every newly made place in London might plausibly become an exciting destination for leisure seekers, none of them are likely to become somewhere where most people can actually afford live. The question, “Who is London for?” rears its ugly head particularly strongly at King’s Cross, because it’s so nice without being remotely accessible. A casual visitor may notice its attractive architecture and diverse cultural offerings; but they might also feel like they’re walking around a developer's marketing campaign. The bare bones of the site’s industrial past have been left in place, but airbrushed, to create a saleable perfection that is more than a little contrived.

The fact that a disused corner underneath the Royal Festival Hall once became home to London’s skateboarders should remind us that new developments often have unintended consequences – and that no matter how shiny those CAD visions of perfectly manicured new places are the reality is bound to be far messier. Take a stroll down by the canal along from King’s Cross and you will find plenty of tents pitched by rough sleepers. So when we look at the newest developments in London, we should consider that hotly anticipated new destinations, such as Battersea Power Station and Silvertown, will undoubtedly come to have uses entirely separate from those planned for them by their current owners.

Millennium Mills, Silvertown, in 2016. Image: Getty.

Although place-making strategies are important, and the results clearly profitable, they can also smack of a paternalistic inclination for control. Nothing is more irritatingly pretentious than the use of the word ‘curation’ to describe this activity, as at Battersea Power Station.

Despite this, the £9bn regeneration scheme is doing many of the right things. Here, like at King’s Cross, there is a huge amount of energy being expended to put Battersea on the map as a new cultural destination. The developers are investing in the local community by giving grants, the largest of which up until September 2017 went to Battersea Arts Centre to open the Scratch Hub, a new co-working space for local businesses.

Circus West Village is the first part of the scheme to have been made accessible to the public. It comes complete with a new pedestrian entrance next to the river, a mix of independent food retailers and the aptly named Village Hall for events and community use. The ‘curation’ team have already delivered many events here since opening in July, including dance performances, a Christmas pop-up takeover by local makers and the inaugural ‘Powerhouse’ art commission.

Although diverse cultural offerings like these are commendable, they are all still highly controlled, catering for specific tastes and budgets: high-end cultural activity for urban leisure seekers. No matter how ‘curated’ places are, they are not museums – but developers risk being tarred with the same elitist brush as our more gold-plated institutions if they try too hard to emulate them. And this trend for focussing on the added value of cultural activities may serve to highlight the lack of affordable housing in many of these schemes.

To the east of London, something a bit different is happening. The Silvertown Partnership – Chelsfield Properties, First Base and Macquarie Capital – won the right to build on another disused industrial site precisely because it was not planning on doing what other developers in the area are doing (namely, building luxury housing on every square inch of available land). Instead, a crumbling turn of the 20th century flour mill, once part of London’s largest industrial centre at Royal Docks, is being turned into affordable incubator space for start-up businesses, as part of an ambitious masterplan that will transform the 62-acre brownfield site near The Excel Centre into another ‘new piece of city’.


Refreshingly The Silvertown Partnership has so far avoided calling themselves ‘curators’. As one spokesperson told me: “We are enablers, not placemakers.” This suggests they intend the eventual Silvertown programme will be driven by the new creative community they hope to build there.

The partnership is off to a good start with some of the first construction work onsite being the V22 Project of cargo container artist studios installed in 2017. Despite this, some of the artist’s impression of the plans are quite hilariously back to the future, and their PR full of self-aggrandising statements such as “The site will re-invent the atelier on a grand scale”.

Industrial buildings like Battersea Power Station and now Millennium Mills at Silvertown are proving so popular as sites of regeneration precisely because their current state of ruin gives them an exciting faded grandeur. Ultimately, nobody knows how successful these reincarnations will turn out to be, or how these carefully made new places will end up being used or by whom. But it would be fascinating to come back in a hundred years and see how the utopian visions of their current owners have turned out.

 
 
 
 

What other British cities can learn from the Tyne & Wear Metro

A Metro train at Monument. Image: Callum Cape/Wikipedia.

Ask any person on the street what they know about Newcastle, and they’ll list a few things. They’ll mention the accent; they’ll mention the football; they’ll mention brown ale and Sting and Greggs. They might even mention coal or shipbuilding, and then the conversation will inevitably turn political, and you’ll wish you hadn’t stopped to ask someone about Newcastle at all.

They won’t, however, mention the Tyne and Wear Metro, because they haven’t probably heard of it – which is a shame, because the Metro is one of the best things the north-east has to offer.

Two main issues plague suburban trains. One is frequency. Suburban rail networks often run on poor frequency; to take Birmingham for an example, most of its trains operate at 30-minute intervals.

The other is simplicity. Using Birmingham again, the entire system is built around New Street, leading to a very simple network. Actually, that’s not quite true: if you’re coming from Leamington Spa, Warwick, Stourbridge, Solihull or a host of other major minor (minor major?) towns, you don’t actually connect to New Street – no, you don’t even connect to the ENTIRE SYSTEM BUILT AROUND NEW STREET except at Smethwick Galton Bridge, miles away in the western suburbs, where the physical tracks don’t even connect – they pass over each other. Plus, what on earth is the blue line to Walsall doing?

An ageing map of the West Midlands rail network: click any of the images in this article to expand them. Image: Transport for the West Midlands/Centro.

But Newcastle has long been a hub of railway activity. Tragically, the north-east has fewer active railway lines than any other region of the UK. Less tragically, this is because Tyne and Wear has the Metro.


The Metro was formed in 1980 from a somewhat eccentric collection of railways, including freight-only lines, part of the old Tyneside Electrics route, underground tunnelling through the city centre, track-sharing on the National Rail route to Sunderland, and lines closed after the Beeching axe fell in the early 1960s.

From this random group of railway lines, the Metro has managed to produce a very simple network of two lines. Both take a somewhat circuitous route, the Yellow line especially, because it’s literally a circle for much of its route; but they get to most of the major population centres. And frequency is excellent – a basic 5 trains an hour, with 10 tph on the inner core, increasing at peak times (my local station sees 17 tph each way in the morning peak).

Fares are simple, too: there are only three zones, and they’re generally good value, whilst the Metro has been a national leader in pay-as-you-go technology (PAYG), with a tap-in, tap-out system. The Metro also shares many characteristics of European light rail systems – for example, it uses the metric system (although this will doubtless revert to miles and chains post-Brexit, whilst fares will be paid in shillings).

 

The Metro network. Image: Nexus.

Perhaps most importantly, the Metro has been the British pioneer for the Karlsruhe model, in which light rail trains share tracks with mainline services. This began in 2002 with the extension to Sunderland, and, with new bi-mode trains coming in the next ten years, the Metro could expand further around the northeast. The Sheffield Supertram also recently adopted this model with its expansion to Rotherham; other cities, like Manchester, are considering similar moves.

However, these cities aren’t considering what the Metro has done best – amalgamated local lines to allow people to get around a city easily. Most cities’ rail services are focused on those commuters who travel in from outside, instead of allowing travel within a city; there’s no coherent system of corridors allowing residents to travel within the limits of a city.

The Metro doesn’t only offer lessons to big cities. Oxford, for example, currently has dire public transport, focused on busy buses which share the same congested roads as private vehicles; the city currently has only two rail stations near the centre (red dots).

Image: Google.

But it doesn’t need to be this way. For a start, Oxford is a fairly lateral city, featuring lots of north-south movements, along broadly the same route the railway line follows. So, using some existing infrastructure and reinstating other parts, Oxford’s public transport could be drastically improved. With limited engineering work, new stations could be built on the current track (blue dots on the map below; with more extensive work, the Cowley branch could be reinstated, too (orange dots). Electrify this new six-station route and, hey presto, Oxford has a functioning metro system; the short length of the route also means that few trains would be necessary for a fequent service.

Image: Google.

Next up: Leeds. West Yorkshire is a densely populated area with a large number of railway lines. Perfect! I hear you cry. Imperfect! I cry in return. Waaaaaah! Cry the people of Leeds, who, after two cancelled rapid transit schemes, have had enough of imaginative public transport projects.

Here’s a map of West Yorkshire:

Image: Google.

Here’s a map of West Yorkshire’s railway network:

 ​

Image: West Yorkshire Metro.

The problem is that all of the lines go to major towns, places like Dewsbury, Halifax or Castleford, which need a mainline connection due to their size. Options for a metro service are limited.

But that’s not to say they’re non-existent. For example, the Leeds-Bradford Interchange line passes through densely populated areas; and anyway, Bradford Interchange is a terminus, so it’s poorly suited to service as a through station, as it’s currently being used.

Image: Google.

With several extra stops, this line could be converted to a higher frequency light rail operation. It would then enter an underground section just before Holbeck; trains from Halifax could now reach Leeds via the Dewsbury line. The underground section would pass underneath Leeds station, therefore freeing up capacity at the mainline station, potentially simplifying the track layout as well.

 

Image: Google.

Then you have the lines from Dewsbury and Wakefield, which nearly touch here:

Image: Google.

By building a chord, services from Morley northwards could run into Leeds via the Wakefield line, leaving the Dewsbury line north of Morley open for light rail operation, probably with an interchange at the aforementioned station.

Image: Google.

The Leeds-Micklefield section of the Leeds-York line could also be put into metro service, by building a chord west of Woodlesford over the River Aire and connecting at Neville Hill Depot (this would involve running services from York and Selby via Castleford instead):

The path of the proposed chord, in white. Image: Google.

With a section of underground track in Leeds city centre, and an underground line into the north-east of Leeds – an area completely unserved by rail transport at present – the overall map could look like this, with the pink and yellow dots representing different lines:

Et voila! Image: Google.

Leeds would then have a light-rail based public transport system, with potential for expansion using the Karlsruhe model. It wouldn’t even be too expensive, as it mainly uses existing infrastructure. (Okay, the northeastern tunnel would be pricey, but would deliver huge benefits for the area.)

Why aren’t more cities doing this? Local council leaders often talk about introducing “metro-style services” – but they avoid committing to real metro projects because they’re more expensive than piecemeal improvements to the local rail system, and they’re often more complex to deliver (with the lack of space in modern-day city centres, real metro systems need tunnels).

But metro systems can provide huge benefits to cities, with more stops, a joined-up network, and simpler fares. More cities should follow the example of the Tyne and Wear Metro.