In the underbelly of a beast: THE CURIOUS CASE OF A SKATE-SPOT
Autumn afternoon.
Brutal facades towering over the sidewalk are meshing in a monolith of grey, as they are cascading down towards the river. The monotone steadiness of city sounds get roughly interrupted by the noise of wheels crushing against the concrete…
When in the Mid 70’s, California-born, skateboarding made its way to the other side of the Ocean, it found shelter in the undercroft of Elizabeth Hall, by the Southbank of river Thames. In an unexpected turns of architecturally-cultural events, the space and the activity became co-dependent in an unprecedented symbiosis.
High - culture & subculture,
designed & appropriated,
dynamic & passive,
public & private.
'In the Undercroft we find an extraordinary collision of Brutalist architecture and youthful bodies, where dark concrete, rough textures and echoing acoustics meet splashes of colour, sudden adrenaline and the rasping, grinding, sliding sounds of skateboards'
1. What happens when design concepts escape the theory class(Historical context)
It is hard to imagine that such a culturally important part of London as the Southbank only started to gain its significance in the summer of 1951.
This is when, in an attempt to uplift spirits and the cultural climate after the trauma of the Second World War, the Festival of Britain was organised. An event showcasing the best of British art, design, technology and architecture, it was a big success. And as the government had hoped, it brought a breath of fresh air into the city, and a lot of attention to this previously derelict side of the river.
However, with the end of the festival and a lack of clear purpose for the area, the future of the Southbank wasn't certain. It took Lambeth Council a full 12 years before any concrete development plans were even discussed.
As fate would have it, the discussion resurfaced straight into the fertile ground of the revolutionary 1960s, causing as much cultural havoc as free love and the mini-skirt. Disregarding the conventions of architecture and public taste, a team of young architects from the London County Council, led by Norman Engleback, designed a new concert complex consisting of Queen Elizabeth Hall, Purcell Room and Hayward Gallery. A brutal embodiment of the ideas of that time, and of the collective Archigram, who introduced the concept of buildings as "cities"- buildings so open and dynamic that they become an active part of the urban fabric. Non-intimidating with stiffness of traditional architectural rules, not tied to the frames of one specific purpose -but open and welcoming to the public.
'-It should not be possible to distinguish front from back, top from bottom, inside from outside.'-
Archigram broke the conventions of composition and proposed an egalitarian approach where there are no hierarchical divisions among spaces. The labyrinth of multiple levels connected by bridges, ground-level open spaces, decks and walkways connecting different buildings were supposed to invite the visitor to explore and discover all the nooks and crannies — and maybe find a purpose for some of the 'undesigned' spaces. In practice, they drove the actual concert visitor, on a mission to find where the entrance was, to mild despair.
However, the uncompromising mass of Elizabeth Hall, stands as an architectural manifesto against the passiveness of traditional architecture and an un-intentional influence, that pushed conversation about architecture, out of the lecture halls, into the streets.
Which, with the beginning of 1970’s welcomed another cultural phenomena…
2. Skateboarding - rebels with a cause
"There was something special about the accidents of architecture that made it the perfect place to skate. The way the banks were angled and the rails positioned captured my imagination." — Leon Humphries
The by-products of Brutalist architecture made for a perfect spot for skateboarders, who had started to find the streets of cities far more appealing than commercial skateparks. And so the first British skateboarders found the undercroft beneath Queen Elizabeth Hall to be a perfect practice spot and a shelter from the unpredictable English weather.
“(…) Where the architects had designed flat spaces interrupted by a series of surprisingly and apparently uselessly-angled banks, skateboarders saw these very same angled banks as freely accessible version of commercial skate parks.”
Learning new manoeuvres and pushing the boundaries of both the space and their own abilities, skateboarders took over that 'useless', unwelcoming place and breathed life into it. Soon that unofficial spot started to attract other groups from evolving urban subcultures. Through the years, a unique community began to form where skateboarders, BMXers, roller skaters, graffiti artists, photographers and filmmakers were all able to feed off each other's creativity.
There was no place like this. Real, living, accessible to anybody — a space of skill exchange. It didn't matter whether you were a professional or a beginner; you could be learning new tricks while rubbing shoulders with the same faces you'd seen in magazines and on TV. The space was living. Archigram's concepts had been fulfilled.
The general public and the press appeared to have been bigger fans of the skateboarders, than of the concert hall, itself.
In 1979 Spectator wrote :
“(…) Is there anywhere, outside a Soviet industrial centre, such a collection of gloomy and soulless buildings as stands between the London Weekend centre and the Hungerford Bridge?
Skateboarding would seem to be one of the few rational purposes for those vistas of concrete and paving with curious hidden recesses and - for the skateboarder - challenging ramps….as I walk to the concert, huddled against the wind, I hear the rattle of the boards, some small evidence of human life’.
The relationship between the skateboarding community and the authorities had long been one of mutual tolerance. Ironically, it was the Southbank's own administration that seemed to have the most issues with the skateboarders. The relationship turned sour after the Centre's privatisation in the 1980s. The newly formed Southbank Board had a fresh vision for the direction of the space and introduced plans for large-scale architectural redevelopment. With an increasingly hostile attitude towards skateboarders, it was clear they were not being taken into consideration in the future of Southbank Centre.
As a response, the community began to organise. Skateboarders with larger platforms highlighted the issue and encouraged supporters from the pages of The Guardian and R.A.D. magazine to take action, resulting in a huge number of written objections sent to Lambeth Council. Skateboarding jams were organised, attracting massive crowds and media attention. It was apparent that moving skateboarders from the undercroft would not be easy. As a result of community action, the large-scale redevelopment plans fell through, and the precedent of skateboarding community resistance was set. Through the decades, the cultural back-and-forth struggle with Southbank Centre continued. But the biggest conflict was yet to come…
In March 2013, proposals for a £120 million redevelopment of the 'Festival Wing' were announced, which included plans to turn the historic skate area into restaurants and retail units. Skateboarders were offered a space specially designed for them - a proper skatepark, with perfect surfaces and angles, good lighting and access to a café. Yet again the skateboarding community had not been consulted. The proposal of a pre-designed 'skate-space' highlighted a condescending lack of understanding of what the Undercroft of Elizabeth Hall meant for the skateboarding community worldwide — the historic importance it carried, and the immeasurable quality it brought to the Southbank Centre. The frustration of not being taken seriously, and an ignorant proposal to artificially relocate a historic site, gave birth to one of the most important campaigns in the history of London urbanism….
3. Long Live Southbank — how you can't move history
In April 2013, a collective of skateboarders, BMXers, graffiti artists and local residents joined together to found the Long Live Southbank campaign, under the slogan: 'You can't move history' - a notion famously highlighted in a letter written by Tony Hawk to the Southbank Centre organisation, in which he stressed how the spot had become as iconic a location for skateboarders as Big Ben and London Bridge are for non-skating tourists in London.
"I support the Long Live Southbank campaign and its goal to preserve the infamous skate spot. Destroying or even altering the banks would erase an important part of London and UK skateboarding history…"
The story of the fight to save the beloved skate spot quickly spread around the world, gaining international attention and support. An online petition gained 40,000 signatures, leading to the case being debated in Parliament. A record 27,286 individual planning objections were collected and delivered to Lambeth Town Hall. The biggest milestone, however, was the public support given to the Undercroft's preservation by the then-London Mayor, Boris Johnson:
"The skate park is the epicentre of UK skateboarding and is part of the cultural fabric of London. This much-loved community space has been used by thousands of young people over the years. It attracts tourists from across the world and undoubtedly adds to the vibrancy of the area – it helps to make London the great city it is."
This powerful endorsement made an enormous impact on the effectiveness of the campaign and forced Southbank Centre to take LLSB seriously, resulting in Southbank's final withdrawal of the project application.
It was a public and symbolic win for the skateboarding community, but the work to restore the space to its original shape continued. In 2015, LLSB prepared and presented a restoration proposal for the Undercroft to Southbank Centre. In 2017, planning permission was approved and a fundraising campaign was launched, which successfully secured the necessary funds to begin work on the restored section of the Undercroft.
On Saturday 20th July 2019, Long Live Southbank, together with Southbank Centre, opened to the public the sections of the Undercroft closed since 2004 — redesigned by Feilden Clegg Bradley Studios. This day brought an end to an extraordinary campaign that reminded us of forgotten fundamental questions: the importance of history and heritage, the value of public spaces in modern expanding cities, and the strength of community with a vision.