When 14 000 Liverpudlians visited the shortlisted schemes for the Fourth Grace competition in November 2002 they were unwittingly expressing a native civic passion unrivalled in the United Kingdom. This too wasn't a preservation movement barracking the moderne. Liverpool is no Letchworth. It was the fear of mediocrity not modernism that drove people in the thousands to the Walker.

It is the very incongruity of Liverpool's built environment that gives it a unique place amongst European cities. Liverpool has neither the consistent roof height of Paris nor the ubiquitous terracotta of Florence. It has always been wonderfully disrespectful towards its architectural neighbours.

Where else would one find a Grade II* listed Art Deco masterpiece (Martins Bank) sitting opposite our very own Burlington Arcade (India Buildings) whilst a Georgian pleasure palace (Town Hall) glances down at them from the top of what was a medieval street (Water St)? The Liver Building, constructed on the top of the old George's Dock in 1911, at 17 stories high paid little attention to St Nick's Church or the Albert Dock.

Indeed, the trio of buildings at the Pier Head remain an uncompleted remnant of a far grander vision for the entire waterfront, and their construction was at a time when public consultation was neither sought nor required. Yet, it produced the instantly recognisable skyline of today, born as an uncompromising example of market confidence. A latter-day love-child of New York and Shanghai.

We now in 2004 move a step closer to augmenting the Pier Head with a similar display of confidence. Despite this, debate still rages on the aesthetic and the appropriateness of the material specification of Will Alsop's Cloud. Should all four shortlisted schemes have been required to specify Portland Stone cladding? Perhaps - but by this logic previous generations would have been unable to leave us Tower Buildings, Anglican Cathedral, even St John's Beacon.

Perhaps the public's initial lack of support for the Alsop scheme, and for that matter the other three consortia was on the whole an expression of a hunger for design excellence, not design subjugation. A desire for Liverpool to be bold and think big, to be better, to build better. To the Scouser, the principles of contemporary urban theory, (increased scale, intensification of development, de-zoning) come naturally because this is our urban vernacular.

We take many aspects of the city for granted, but the interest being shown by English Heritage, UNESCO and the DCMS tells its own story. Indeed Dr Ray Bondin who visited Liverpool as part of The World Heritage Site bid inspection commented why so little has been written about the city. This should not be mistaken as our antipathy towards our built environment however. Liverpudlians love their architecture, often expressed in their overt sentimentality for the city. It could be said to be a product of childhoods roaming canyon-like streets, past the hotch-potch of buildings tumbling down to the river - a little bit of North America marooned in North West Europe.

In a Liverpool street recently, near a building that inspired Burnham and Root to build Chicago's first skyscrapers, the driver of the black cab leaned out of his window to instruct me that Oriel Chambers is a Grade I listed building, pioneering in its use of a cantilevered cladding. Only in Liverpool.

So, the fact we should be postulating a 18 story Cloud (or Donut - take your pick) to hover on our waterfront should come as no surprise. We have always excelled at being unruly, irreverent, innovative. We can admire the tidy geometry of St George's in Everton and St. James in Toxteth but let's not forget they were the first churches in the world integrating prefabricating sections in cast-iron. If Thomas Rickman and Cuthbert Bisbrowne had been armed with AutoCAD and a PowerMacintosh computer then perhaps Liverpool might today have a veritable weather front of Clouds floating in our Georgian streets.

Whatever the consensus or division over the aesthetics of the Cloud, it reminds us that architecture is has since earliest civilisations been a potent means of conveying a message, far beyond the totality of its bricks and mortar. Whilst we may argue over the angels on the head of a pin or precisely what colour the cladding might be, the architectural world watches with interest the name of Liverpool -Resurgant.

Nationally, the reputation of Liverpool as a basket-case has thankfully not yet dented the affection of the Liverpool brand internationally. Sure, Torontonians may know us for the Beatles and Liverpool Football Club but Manchester? Oh yes, is that the place near Liverpool?

Global recognition of the Liverpool name is a product of a Diaspora totalling over 9 million people and a profound maritime legacy - as much as 4 European Cups. However in a postmodern world how swiftly that can be eroded, indeed earlier this year Steven Morgan, major shareholder of LFC recently complained of seeing 'that bloody Vodafone shirt everywhere'.

Re-establishing the phrase of 'Liverpool' in the international mindset is significant therefore for so many reasons, not least economic. It is worth reflecting on the impact the Fourth Grace decision has had in the media, and likewise how this raises the profile of the city.
Fears too that the media may have labelled Liverpudlians as the irresponsible custodian of an architectural treasure trove has of course proved unfounded. Rather than postulating why Liverpool has chosen to introduce the Pier Head's Edwardian sisters to a tough new neighbour, column inches have preferred to reflect on a new Liverpool, open for business and looking to the future.

And what of the architect himself? When Will Alsop lectured at LJMU last year such was the interest that an overspill room had to be rigged up with a live video feed to accommodate the gatecrashers. For those who have had the experience of hearing Alsop lecture there can be no doubt they are in the presence of a great maverick, and just perhaps - a great architect.

These qualities are precisely the ingredients in an architect that Liverpool has always sought and patronised. Two twentysomethings won the competitions to build two of the city's greatest monuments: Lonsdale Elmes for St George's Hall and Gilbert Scott for the Anglican Cathedral.

Opinion has largely been split pro and anti-Cloud, with little ambivalence. Similarly, one can't not have an opinion of Liverpool, the very word provokes love or loathing, but never indifference. We could have sailed the middle channel and given the Fourth Grace prize to a more restrained scheme, but the city has regrettably excelled in this approach for too many years. Ask yourself what contemporary buildings of any real design quality have been built in the city for thirty years? Manchester City Council on the other hand has been busily picking up RIBA Client of the Year in 2003. Cloud critics take note.

For the same reasons that we cook with gas not with coal, drive in cars with engines managed by computer chips and do business through modem cables our buildings too have moved on from the oak-panelled offices crammed into stone clad edifices. The Cloud is a product of our own contemporary idiom. Surely we are not so parochial as to still fail to grasp the natural evolution of architectural style?

I don't think we are. The sensitivity of many Liverpudlians to a challenging design rubbing shoulders with the fine cluster of Edwardian buildings at the Pier Head is because as a city we have often been so poorly served.

The Fourth Grace then, for all its notoriety answers the very pressing needs of future development in Liverpool. It makes a clear and unambiguous statement of a belief in design-led regeneration. It maximises building density and emphatically commits itself to a mix of uses within the scheme as well as providing an imaginative public realm. Furthermore it bravely plays the difficult balancing act between historic building conservation and economic development - itself one of the crucial dilemmas the city currently faces.

With European Capital of Culture round the corner clearly a balance will be struck, and struck fast. Another legacy of the Fourth Grace perhaps will be a simple one. A demonstration that the city can be confident enough to commit the new with the old, to continue its tradition of incongruity in architectural form and make Aubrey Thomas and Will Alsop happy bedfellows.

The city of Liverpool is the UK's sleeping giant. The national suspicion and mistrust the product of a very recent blip. As it emerges from slumber and into the consciousness of the cognoscenti it faces this crucial test: either to step confidently forward or cautiously keep looking back.

© 2004 John Elcock

No part of this article may be reproduced without written consent from the author email
http://www.johnelcock.com

[home]