On 18th August 1782, William Blake, prophet of Romanticism, married Catherine Boucher, at St Mary’s Church in Battersea. Their courtship was short, and apparently sealed when Blake regaled Boucher with a story of a previous spurned engagement. He asked if she pitied him, and she did. He then, taking pity as a sign from above, declared his love for her. Boucher inspired Blake, and his devotion to her was steadfast1. In the years that followed, Blake painted and wrote; whilst all around him, the industrial revolution forged a new world from blood, sweat and pig iron. The Albion Flour Mills, in Southwark, were a short distance away from Blake, and burned down in 1791. This sight, but also his belief that the factories, mills, and collieries of the early 19th century represented an enslavement of humanity; inspired him.
And was Jerusalem builded here, amongst these dark Satanic
Mills?
150 years on from Blake and Boucher’s marriage, a second
temple was being erected on the banks of the Thames. The London Power Company
began construction on the Battersea Power Station. Far from Blake’s dark Satanic
Mills, this was a cathedral of brick designed to bring a whole different type of
enlightenment to the masses of London. Construction spanned across a world war,
before the iconic four chimney structure was complete. The marriage of the
white heat of technology and design created a new icon for London, represented
in popular culture throughout its life. Every year, over a million tonnes of
finest coal from South Wales and Northeast flowed through the Thames to
Battersea, to power London2.
But then the future was the past. Coal was being
replaced by nuclear and gas; and it didn’t seem quite right to have a power
station in the centre of the metropolis. As the turbines slowed, the building
couldn’t just be lost. The St Paul’s of Power was given a stay of execution and
listed. But, unlike cathedrals, what is the purpose of a power station when it
no longer produces power? And thus began a forty-year search for something
to use the building for. From a theme park, to a mall and leisure complex, to
an eco-dome, to a football stadium; monorail salesmen came and went; whilst the
station stood, slowly crumbling3. Until the money and plans finally
arrived to make something of it.
The new development of a high-end shopping centre opened a
few weeks back (14th October). What has replaced the vacuous void
previously entombed by those four chimneys is, well, a different kind of
vacuous void. Inside, its beautiful. The original fittings have been restored,
and the history of the place hangs in the air. But it’s a processed, refined,
and conditioned air. What was once designed to extract heat from carbon, now
exists to extract capital from punters. Rolex and Breitling, Genesis and
Polestar4, Maeving and VanMoof5; the shops here aren’t what
you’d find in the Stratford Centre or Eagle Centre Market. This is shopping as
aspiration. If shopping isn’t the aspiration for you, there’s also the Control
Room B bar, where you can enjoy a whimsically named cocktail6 for £12, supping whilst
surrounded by the original dials, control desks and switchgear racks, if you
can bear the queue. Walking around, you can’t help but feel that the beauty is
hollow. Behind the pretty face, there ain’t nothing there but marketing.
Yet, I don’t know what else you could do with a building
such as this. Whilst it’s not for me, there is a market for posh shopping centres.
It also begs the question asked earlier – as industrial heritage moves from the
industrial to the heritage; what do we do with these temples of technology? Not
every factory, mill, power station can become an art gallery, museum,
exhibition space. Whilst there is value in preserving these buildings, they can’t
be held in aspic; and allowing them to slowly crumble is more regrettable than
a tarting up by a developer. But to expose them fully to market forces is to gamble
on short-term future. Today’s high-end shopping destination is tomorrow’s thoroughfare
of American Candy shops and scaffolding covered in turf7. Can the
developers keep Battersea Power Station attractive to shops and shoppers.
Blake wrote of dark Satanic Mills in a preface to his epic
Milton poem, asking whether Jesus had visited England, and created a heaven on
Earth. This preface was little known until 1916, when it was included by Robert
Bridges in a patriotic anthology of verse, to help inspire the nation through
the depths of the First World War. Bridges, then asked composer Sir Hubert
Parry to put the verses to music, and the hymn Jerusalem was born. The raw
structure of Blake’s words, written by a man with an antipathy to Christian orthodoxy
and England’s role in the world; were inhabited by a patriotic and religious
fervour. By adapting what existed before, something new and itself intrinsically
valuable was created. And, despite my own antipathy, this is what must happen
to industrial relics such as Battersea Power Station.
1Well not that steadfast, as Blake was a member of the Free
Love movement, which believed marriage to be akin to slavery. He did also
consider bringing in an additional wife. But, other than that, steadfast.
2Or at least third of it.
3Unsubtle metaphor alert – the 2010 Conservative Party
Manifesto was also launched there.
4Clubs found in a Midlands market town and/or high-end
electric car manufacturers.
5Dutch economists famed for a paper on the interactions
between social capital and Scandinavian welfare systems and/or bike
manufacturers.
6One is named Battery Licker, which I’m sure is a slur of
some sort.
7Having said that, the Mound is the best/funniest thing in
London for ages. More Mounds!