Sweet dreams or a beautiful nightmare?

The Barbican is my idea of what living is all about. It fulfills every notion of what I think a home should be. It is a complex with history, density, supreme architectural design, dead central location and most importantly skyline dominance.

Looking at the building today its brutalist domineering style seems somewhat aged but not out of place in London's skyline. The three towers sit comfortably at the beginning of the river skyline, followed by St Pauls, the Natwest Tower and the Gherkin. The steep concrete faces create an imposing glare over the square mile and are reminiscent of the mass produced social housing structures typical of the artichectural modernism 60s and 70s. The Brutalist style of the barbican was a response to this, a movement away from internationally styled housing to that of a more monumental emphasis, a literal domination of the skyline. It is this domination of

London's skyline that earned the complex its Grade II listed status in 2001.

Historically the real inspiration behind the barbican lies solely with one man, Le Corbusier. The Frenchman rejected all forms of ancient architecture, deciding the modern man needed his own form of artichecture to represent his place in the modern world. In 1922 he envisaged a group of buildings of magnificent proportions, Ville Contemporaine, numerous sixty-floor structures linked by circular walkways, included within and around the structures would be airports, office bulidings, shops and any other amenity you can imagine. Man would quite simply give himself over to the dominance of the architecture, three million of those men. Le Corbusier's plan was to build standardised, mass-produced structures that would end urban deprivation in Paris, his vision would become an international standard by the mid 1960s.

Conceived in 1953 and completed in 1969 the Barbican has at its heart the idea of a completely contained living experience. In 1959 artichetcts Chamberlin, Powell & Bon mapped out their vision for the Barbican "The intention underlying our design is to create a coherent residential precinct in which people can live both conveniently and with pleasure. Despite its high density the layout is spacious: the buildings and the space between them are composed in such a way as to create a clear sense of order without monotony. Uninterrupted by road traffic (which is kept separate from pedestrian circulation through and about the neighbourhood) a quiet precinct will be created in which people will be able to move about freely enjoying constantly changing perspectives or terraces, lawns, trees and flowers seen against the background or the new buildings or reflected in the ornamental lake." The notion of meeting tranquil beauty within this dominating structure seems to represent a marriage of the modern with traditional Britain, and until this day the lawns of the complex are amongst its most favoured aspect with residents.

One of the most depressing aspects of the complex has become part of its zeal, the failure of the shopping complex paved the way for the arts centre, and the arts centre is now one of the defining features of the Barbican. Additionally, in 1984 the conservatory was opened and this was an absolute feat containing exotic flora, tropical and domestic plants, pools and fountains, an aivairy and the largest cacti in Europe. The pools used to house terrapins and fish and amazingly the pest control is not chemical but a delicate balance of predators and pathogens (that's basically biological germs).

All in all the Barbican is an incredible project that continues to live on forty years after its unveiling and over half a century after its inception, that it is one of the only complexes of its kind is a tragedy but I am lead to believe that the Pan Peninsula in the Docklands is somewhat similar with its self contained amenities and now stands as the tallest residential building in London. I would do anything to be a part of the Barbican and its beautiful and unmatched existence, my one and only true aim in life is to wake up each morning and view my amazing city from its dizzying heights.

Sweet dreams or a beautiful nightmare?

The nuclear power followup

It seems that big Ed Miliband (brother of little David, the foreign secretary) has conceeded defeat on the nuclear issue and the UK is going to get ten brand spanking new nuclear power plants! This means that by 2025 a quarter of all energy produced in the UK will be nuclear sourced.

Also packed into the deal is a removal of previous planning rules which could hold up build plans for up to six years, this means that a plant can go from proposal to approval in little under a year, fantastic news for the likes of me and shit news for the hippies who hate nuclear power and think that the wind, waves, the sun and Russia can power the UK's growing energy needs.

However, I probably didn't properly address the downsides of nuclear power and that was very wrong of me. It is very VERY expensive, some estimates suggest as much as £5bn per plant and there are a number of issues regarding whether or not this bill will have to be subsidised by the tax payer, although Miliband has consistently stated that no subsidies will be handed out to the energy companies. This draws into doubt if energy companies will be willing to foot the entirety of the bill and thus whether or not all of the proposed plants will actually be built. The problem with this is that the energy gap needs to be bridged and if not it is more than likely the government will have to step in to stop blackouts from occuring (think about 2017).

So a likely increase in energy bills is what is going to stop the blackouts, that or we can all make the small changes to our day to day lives that will help to reduce our national power consumption. You know, things like turning lights off, not boiling a full kettle, using the TV a bit less, all that crap that everyone is unwilling to do because it constitutes a mild inconvenience, because I am telling you now that every politician, researcher, journalist, economist and academic with even half a brain is well aware that blackouts are more than a possibility in the next decade, they are a dead cert.

So that's enough on nuclear power, all the image searches are probably flagging me up all over the intelligence community and that can never end well.

The nuclear power followup

my giant american Cliché

Dr. Pepper's all round!

Lately I have become obsessed with the idea and reality of America. I'm not sure what has really got me on this road but I suppose two things are mostly to blame, firstly my notion of music seems only to fit in with a narrative concerned with sleazy 1980s NYC block parties and the emergence of studio 54 (I found an insane picture of my mum and dad hanging out there!) and the other reason seems to be the emergence of the American nation bullshit I am studying at the moment.

Basically myself and my camera are itching to get across the pond ASAP but I have a problem with leaving London for anything longer than a week. I'm certain I will figure it out because I really can feel those plantations in Louisiana calling me to get lost in their woodland goodness, so me thinks me need to plan now for a summer excursion, I have to find the REAL AMERICA as my textbooks show it, the vast voids and the lush landscapes that a nation so enormous affords, as well as the MEDIAMERICA that has basically taught me all that I know. I guess this will take something like six weeks, maybe more, but I have to factor in my need for civilisation and metropolis, so all that shit wondering around the middle needs to be offset by equal time in big cities like NYC, LA and AOL. That gives me three weeks coast and about three weeks centre, but I could be tempted to more inland shenanigans if I successfully locate some pioneer communities. We are talking about a HUGE country here and I feel the need to tread the soil of every state.

Money will be tight. I could die but I bet I wont. Im not sure about skinny jeans in the middle of America. Summer emo vibes coast to coast.

my giant american Cliché

The case for nuclear power

Welly welly welly welly well, unfortunately the hippies have scuppered the chances of Britain having a sizable amount of our power needs met by nuclear means, this means we are left with one impossible choice. We can forget our pledges to reduce carbon emissions and rely on the unreliable coal and gas resources. But do these costs outweigh the dangers of going nuclear.

Like me, most people reading this will not remember the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear meltdown because we were all but glimmers in our then fancy free parents eyes (some possibly potent embryos nestled snugly in the womb). Suffice to say, it was a big disaster and a lot of people died from radiation poisoning and lead their lives with a higher propensity to develop thyroid cancers (ie. now, twenty-three years later). The entire city of Chernobyl had to be abandoned and the neighbouring town of Pripyat had to be evacuated, the fallout from the explosion has lead to a 17mile exclusion zone around the city with experts suggesting up to 200 years before the land would be safe for re-use and 20,000 years for the area housing one of the nuclear reactors. I think this probably outlines the catastrophic dangers of nuclear power, but in the interests of integrity I shall go a step further. Radioactive material was first detected the following day as far away as Sweeden when Sweedish nuclear workers arrived to work and were found to have radioactive particles on their clothes, it was at this point that the outside world became aware that a large scale nuclear disaster had occurred somewhere within the Soviet Union. Although "nuclear rain" was detected as far away as Ireland, some 60% of the nuclear contamination fell on Belarus due to weather conditions, again leaving some areas uninhabitable.

Presently, 15% of our power needs are met by nuclear sources (compared with gas 45% and coal 35%) from ten nuclear stations, however four of these stations will be out of action by 2015 and the rest by approximately 2020 unless they are given brief life extensions.

Gas is the favoured source of energy for the UK, plants are cheap and relatively fast to build however they have one glaring drawback; they are wholly reliable on gas to operate and we are about to run out of that, which makes us entirely reliable on foreign sources. North sea gas production peaked in 1999 so from then on we have been officially running out, therefore garnering more unreliable Russian sources, this reliability on gas leads to unstable energy prices as gas is often linked to the cost of oil. One of the main sources of European gas is Russia and they are notoriously unreliable and often use gas supply as a political tool, they often reduce supply to countries that make unfriendly decisions, by 2015 we could be importing up to three quarters of our gas as the North sea runs dry.

Coal is our next option but the carbon emissions it produces are contrary to our climate change agreements, it also upsets the same groups that disapprove of nuclear power. Failure to meet our carbon reduction targets could unsettle international agreements on carbon reduction most notably with developing countries that we are trying to discourage from fuelling their growth with the same power sources that we fuel ours.

As our power needs grow so must our energy production, by 2016 we will inevitably have gaps between these two points and a gap between these two points can mean only one thing, lights will start to go off. We are currently running so close to capacity that in 2008 when two power stations failed at the same time (one gas and one coal) the country experienced nationwide blackouts, experts say this unequivocly points to a system under stress.

The choices are undeniably simple, gas or nuclear. Both have drawbacks but for me the political issues raised by Russian gas make the choice an easy one, Britain needs a long term, carbon friendly and reliable solution to our energy needs and nuclear meets this criteria, whilst the redevelopment of our nuclear system will be slow it will ensure that the lights stay on once the infrastructure is there.

The case for nuclear power

The Bvalgari

Robert Anthony Fischer left his house on Tuesday the 20th October 2009 in Knightsbridge, he followed the same route he had undertaken the past 15 years of his life, he passed the same gleaming white houses that used to remind him of his success but now fade into the day to day narrative that facilities his opulent façade. He turned the corner of Chesham Place onto Belgrave square where he was greeted, as he had been for the past 5,568 days that he had made this same journey, by a large Proctor & Gamble billboard, not just any Proctor & Gamble billboard, this was the heart of London's elite, people that bought their car insurance from exclusive clubs did not appreciate billboards emblazoned with nodding dogs, the billboards of Kensington carried items of sophistication, the height of elegance and fashion.

This particular advertisement carried the image of a tall slender man, hair slicked back in the typical yuppie style, a strong defined jaw line, clean shaven, wearing a black handmade suit (most probably Saville Row due to the cut Robert decided), a crisp white shirt with a large open collar. At the bottom of his left arm a Louis Moinet Magistralis rested comfortably, the defining piece of the picture, the exquisite time piece rested effortlessly promising to count the hours and minutes of a lifetime lived to the greatest excess, the watch was less of a time piece than it was symbol of who one was and who one would always be. Robert's attentions now the Bvlgari his wife had bought him, he felt somewhat embarrassed at the piece, it was brash and loud, it was jewellery, had no culture, no esoteric value and therefore had no place on a man of his stature, a piece he deemed barely suitable for the counterfeiters on the southern coast of Spain and the northern shores of Africa.

The weight of the watch now bore down on Robert and he was unable to concentrate on much else, how abrasive he felt, as if he had offended the culture of this elite neighbourhood, if anyone was to ask him the time... Disaster. He often asked the time of strangers, he would examine their response and what their wrists carried, a great feeling of satisfaction would arise when he saw some of the pieces displayed, how could a man truly look himself in the mirror with a digital wristwatch on, the embarrassment of it, the embarrassment of looking like an illiterate child in a world of educated and competent men.

Robert now began to compare himself to the man in the advert, the tall, strong willed gentleman, timeless in his appearance but the height of modernity in his essence, a staple of effortless perfection that Robert could never achieve. "What had the woman been thinking when she picked this out?" Robert muttered under his breath. He contemplated that it in no way fit his appearance, the image of the timepiece against his fair skin burned onto his mind, bore away at his self consciousness, the size of the face almost seemed to be increasing in his head, the dominant Bvlgari logo was relentless in its testament to all who beheld its image and the open chrome mechanics constantly in a state of movement almost gave the piece an unstoppable life force.

Robert thought back to his father and the wristwatch he had worn his whole life. A low key affair. It was a brown Seiko that mechanically displayed the day and time. He specifically remembered the broken wrist strap that had split into three parts, the leather exteriors and the material frame that lay in the middle. More importantly he focussed on the coppering that occurred on the strap hinges because they were not only cheap but mass produced, a generic piece that captured his fathers heart and seemed now to define his person, a person in stark contrast with Robert's own mentality that success is an external issue. He was a man that could afford any watch he wanted, any artefact he fancied but was contented with this singular and ever reliable glass faced Seiko. When all else had failed for him the Seiko was an ever present and enduring reminder of who he was, nay, is, that stood the tides of wealth and even defeat. The weight and implications of the hideous Bvlgari bore into Robert's mind, its increasing presence was beginning to unstitch the character he had created of himself, a blot on the narrative of what he deemed to have been an otherwise spotless existence.

Out of habit Robert reached his left arm out to collect, from the same vendor as he had always done, the early morning edition of the day's Daily Telegraph as he left Wilton Crescent and made his way up Wilton Place. Instinctively he reached forward as he left the thoughts of his father behind him, at the same time he felt the icy brush of his cuff against his left wrist and immediately thought of the horror that lay beneath, his inadequacy would be exposed to all if he were to reach forward. Robert pulled his arm to his side and placed his hand into his left trouser pocket ensuring it was deep enough to entirely cover the the bottom of his arm. Robert had now stopped and was violently and repeatedly depressing the power button of the mobile phone that sat in his trouser pocket, the seeming weightlessness of the phone only made him think deeper about the magnitude of the Bvlgari, the sheer size, weight and power compared to its function. He stepped forward and with his right hand placed a two pound coin at the vendors till then picked up his newspaper, he briskly moved forwards with the paper tucked under his right arm to avoid any possibility that the vendor could offer him any change and thus force him to reveal his unoccupied left arm and possibly behold the Bvlgari on the stark November morning.

Robert looked down at the paper he now held in his right arm, he was unable to concentrate on the images in front of him, the dense black fonts that depicted the atrocities of the world and the failings of his own country contorted across the page, the thin paper became dampened from his fingers as he tried to make sense of what held in his hand. The Bvlgari swarmed with the images of violence and the Prime Minister's contorted face, his heartbeat was intrinsically matched to the mechanical movements occurring on his wrist, all were now in unison, each second his eyes flicked past another line of the text, "workers to cope in the pre-Christmas period but is... crippling services in the weeks leading up to Christmas... One military official told CNN troops had seized control of... The army is up against 10,000 battle-hardened ... backed by "elements linked to the global arrogance" – a euphemism for the United States and Britain... Many members are furious about the “retrospective” limits... 15,000... 85,000... 120,00 members... 60 million items..."

In his sense of frustration and alienation Robert looked down at his wrist to see how much time had passed during this episode, his wrist was bare, only wisps of blonde hair faced him, the time of his age. His watch quietly and eternally ticked on his dresser.

The Bvalgari

110 LIFE

110 was a type of film made popular in the 1970s and 80s with the rise of pocket cameras, 110 is a subminiature cartridge with the images 13x17mm in size. This small size means that when images are enlarged they develop a "grain" effect, as you can see below. Furthermore, the difficulty in obtaining 110 film means that you are often left with no choice but to use out of date film which causes some of the discolouring.

The mass production, lack of technical control and use of cheap materials, such as plastic lenses also leads to blur, light leaks and film jamming. Which is all good because you never know what you're going to get. In my case I developed 144 pictures, 75 frames were blank but I was really happy with what I got.

Camera's used:

Minolta zoom 110 SLR

Agfa agfamatic 1000

Halina 110 flashmatic

These are some examples of frame jams, accidental double exposures, light leaks, blurs and film decay...

110 LIFE

Apathy in the UK

Some things I've heard lately have got me thinking, the ridiculous things people say compared to their actions. What really got me thinking is the elections in the middle east and the huge civil unrest that goes with them, we have people that have waited their entire lives for the opportunity to vote and are prepared to die for that right, some, on the other hand, are prepared to kill for that right. So what do we give in return for our right to vote? Some grumbling about having to get on the electoral register then a handful of people go the whole hog and bother to vote.

Iraqis queing to vote, guarded by armed police

Many people seem to believe that joining facebook groups is in some way as effective as casting an actual physical vote, take for example the huge number of people who joined the group "1,000,000 United Against the BNP". I personally know at least eight people who joined that group and did not go on to vote in the local and European elections, of those eight people I think that three of them constantly reposted the group on their wall and constantly invitied friends to join. Excuses ranged from "I went to the wrong polling station" "I didnt register" and "I forgot"... then the BNP got two seats and every last one of them complained, unfortunately they were democratically elected in free and fair elections and are now entitled to all of the media attention (re: question time debate) and participation in mainstream debate as the other parties.

In 2005 (the last general election in case you cant remember) the turnout was 61% and that was pushed up by the huge backlash against the Iraq war, the 2001 election saw a 59% turnout. However, this is comparatively low for the UK when every election until and including 1997 saw a turnout above 70%, most surpassed 75%. A number of reasons could be blamed for a decline in voter turnout, one possibility is that people are satisfied with their lives and believe that govenrment is functioning and will continue to function correctly regarless of the political powers. However, a more likely reason is the realignment of the main parties has left voters alienated from their traditional political bases believing that "their party" does not represent their interests anymore and that voting has no real effect since the party policy is very similar on both sides. It is a similar story in the United states where turnout between 1972 and 2004 was consistently in the low-mid 50s percentage-wise.

Many people see politics as ineffectual due to the way it is portrayed in the media, all that ever seems to happen is that the two main parties disagree with eachother, the opposition suggests that they would do things differently, criticising the status quo but never suggesting any real alternative. This is usually passed off with the usual rhetoric during party conference time when everyone waits till the last minute then hashes together proposals and manifestos, "now is the time for change", "Britain deserves better" or "I wouldn't let them run a bath" all the usual sloganeering... Worst of all is when two parties come up with the same big idea all hell breaks loose, everyone tries to claim they came up with it first and that is absolute proof that the other party has no policies. It's constant fistycuffs at dawn and when parties aren't bickering with eachother they are bickering with themselves making the whole process of government even more ineffectual, we saw it in the 80s with labour and we saw it in the 2000s with the Conservatives, and we have spent the last year watching Labour almost implode because of even more infighting.

In short, people dont want to vote because they believe it makes no difference, but it does, regardless of how petty and ineffectual parliament may appear it is the decision centre of the UK, the whole process of government affects not just the UK but world interests and we have a duty to partake in that, not just by voting but making greater demands upon our elected representatives. Remember an MP is there to serve all of his/her constituents not just the ones voting for them, and that is where our political power lies.

Unless you are unlucky enough to have a minister or shadow minister for an MP, in which case you are fucked...

Apathy in the UK