Playground 10.06.10[1] | Theatre | Thesis

Abstract     This  dissertation  is  formed  of  a  single  case  study,  employed  to  analyse  contemporary  developments  in

  theatre  practice  and  how  these  are  testing  the  relationship  between  theatre  and  its  architecture.  The   dissertation  also  considers  how  the  established  system  for  designing  and  delivering  buildings  fails  to   meet  the  specific  needs  of  the  arts  organisation.    The  case  study  begins  with  an  architectural  and   artistic  history  of  the  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  originally  Battersea  Town  Hall,  highlighting  how  the   artistic  tendencies  of  the  management  teams  found  architectural  expression.    Plans  for   redevelopment  with  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects  in  the  1990’s  and  the  beginning  of  the  innovative   ‘Scratch  process’  are  detailed  in  chapter  two.    The  three  key  principles  of  Scratch,  improvisation,   collaboration  and  taking  time,  are  examined.    Chapter  three  introduces  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects   and  examines  in  more  detail  how  the  scratch  process  was  transposed  onto  the  architectural  process   through  the  analysis  of  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  a  production  by  the  theatre  company   Punchdrunk.    Chapter  three  arrives  at  a  definition  of  the  new  process  called  ‘Playgrounding’.    A   subsidiary  case  study  of  Teatro  Oficina  in  Sao  Paolo  is  included  to  highlight  a  comparative  example  of   an  architectural  process  based  on  improvisation,  collaboration  and  taking  time.  In  the  final  part  of   chapter  three  the  focus  shifts  to  the  established  architectural  process  and  an  analysis  of  the  proposals   Playgrounding  makes  to  the  orthodoxy  of  a  linear  Plan  of  Work.    These  proposals  are  approached  in   four  areas:  phasing,  conservation,  funding  and  liability.    The  challenges  of  stepping  outside  this   system  are  reflected  upon.    A  conclusion  is  drawn  about  the  potential  of  Playgrounding  to  create  a   positive  framework  for  managing  creative  risk  taking.    Finally,  the  possibility  of  a  new  orthodoxy  of   theatre  space  based  on  this  process  is  considered.          

Copyright Allegra Galvin 2009

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Thanks     I  would  like  to  thank  Professor  Alan  Short,  Dr.  Francois  Penz  and  Dr.  Alistair  Fair  at  the  Architecture   Department,  University  of  Cambridge,  for  their  guidance  and  insight  throughout  the  writing  of  this   dissertation.    Dr.  Phillip  Pattenden,  Peterhouse  for  his  continued  support  of  my  academic  endeavours.     Steve  Tompkins  of  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects  for  his  time  and  interest  in  this  dissertation.  David   Jubb,  David  Micklem  and  Richard  Couldrey  of  Battersea  Arts  Centre  for  giving  their  time,  for  their   generosity  in  sharing  information,  for  allowing  me  constant  access  to  BAC’s  archives  and  most   importantly  for  making  me  part  of  the  process.  Thanks  are  also  due  to  everyone  who  agreed  to  be   interviewed  for  this  dissertation,  in  particular  Jude  Kelly,  South  Bank  Centre,  whose  thoughts  on   artists,  architecture  and  communities  provided  a  frame  for  this  dissertation.       Since  completing  this  dissertation  I  have  begun  work  as  Manager  of  Parabola  Arts  Centre  in   Cheltenham,  a  newly  opened  building.    I  have  also  been  awarded  a  full  AHRC  Grant  to  pursue  a  PhD  in   Performance  Practice  at  Exeter  University  in  order  to  take  forward  some  of  the  discoveries  made   through  this  research.     allegragalvin@gmail.com   07793000723      

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Contents     Introduction                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              page  6     Chapter  1       Chapter  2       Chapter  3   3.1                       Conclusion     Interviews  conducted     Bibliography     Appendix     List  of  Illustrations     Illustrations                   page  160                 page  155                   page  82                   page  72                 page  71                   page  68         3.2     3.3                             page  22   ‘Playgrounding’:  David  Jubb  and  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects     Playgrounding  and  scratch  in  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death   Improvisation   Collaboration   Taking  Time   A  wider  context  for  Playgrounding:  Lina  Bo  Bardi  and  Teatro  Oficina     Playgrounding  and  the  architectural  process:   Phasing   Conservation   Funding   Liability   2.1                     page  14                           page  9    

Battersea  Arts  Centre  in  context  1893  –  1995  

‘The  shock  of  the  new’:  Tom  Morris  and  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects   The  beginning  of  ‘scratch’  

An  architecture  of  improvisation  

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Contemporary  Theatre  Practice  informing  the  Design  and  Delivery  of  Capital  Arts  Projects       This   dissertation   explores   an   alternative   approach   to   designing   and   delivering   Capital   Arts   Projects   through  the  medium  of  a  single  case  study  of  the  Battersea  Arts  Centre.    The  principle  question  posed   by   this   dissertation   is   ‘What   answers   can   innovative   forms   of   developing   theatre,   such   as   ‘Scratch’,   offer   as   an   alternative   approach   to   the   redevelopment   of   existing   space,   particularly   those   for   artistic   use,   in   terms   of   architectural   process?’.     The   volatile   and   complex   history   of   the   late   Victorian   Battersea  Arts  Centre  is  investigated.    It  reveals  the  changing  approaches  to  conservation  and  to  the   making  of  theatre  space  in  an  historic  building.         ‘Playgrounding’   is   a   term   coined   by   David   Jubb,   the   present   Co-­‐Artistic   Director   of   Battersea   Arts   Centre   (henceforward   BAC).     BAC   is   funded   by   the   Arts   Council   England   as   a   development   organisation.    This  means  that  its  focus  is  on  supporting  and  developing  new  work.    BAC  developed  a   process   around   this   remit   called   ‘Scratch’.     ‘Scratch’   is   now   carried   out,   with   minor   variances,   in   theatres   across   London   (such   as   the   Royal   Court’s   ‘Rough   Cuts’),   in   the   regions   (The   Cambridge   Junction’s   ‘Jam   nights’)   and   abroad   (Sydney   Opera   House   ‘Scratch’).     Scratch   at   BAC   is   based   on   three   principles,  necessary  to  develop  a  new  piece  of  theatre:  the  need  to  experiment  and  take  risks,    the   need   to   share   ideas   and   respond   to   feedback   and   the   need   to   take   time   to   develop   ideas.     Playgrounding   should   be   understood   as   the   transposition   of   these   three   principles   onto   the   architectural   process.     By   starting   the   architectural   process   with   the   same   principles   as   one   would   begin   the   creative   process   in   theatre,   Playgrounding   has   become   a   design   process   of   architectural   improvisation  that  places  artists  and  audiences  at  the  centre  of  the  architectural  process.     The   dissertation   is   organised   around   the   three   significant   periods   of   the   building’s   architectural   development:    The  period  in  which  it  functioned  as  a  town  hall  from  1893  to  1965  and  was  then  used   as  a  community  arts  centre  from  1983   to   1996,   the   period   from   1996   to   2004   in   which   the   first   major   Capital   redevelopment   was   proposed   to   transform   it   into   a   theatre   and   finally   the   period   in   which   Playgrounding  emerged  as  a  new  approach  to  the  architecture  from  2004  to  2008.    Each  chapter  will   analyse  how  the  artistic  principles  of  the  organisation  were  reflected  in  the  use  of  the  architecture.     Chapter  one  describes  BAC  in  the  context  of  its  original  function  as  a  town  hall,  its  loss  of  function  in   1965,   plans   for   its   demolition   and   reconstruction,   the   conservation   listing   in   1970   and   finally   its   adapted   function   as   a   community   arts   centre   from   1983.     Chapter   two   covers   the   building’s   development  from  a  community  arts  centre  into  a  theatre.    The  first  comprehensive  plans  for  Capital   Redevelopment,   designed   by   Levitt   Bernstein   Architects,   will   be   analysed   in   some   detail.     The   development  and  basic  principles  of  the  ‘Scratch’  process  will  be  described.    Chapter  three  will  cover   the   Co-­‐Artistic   Directorship   of   David   Jubb   and   David   Micklem,   Steve   Tompkins’   work   with   BAC,   the   emergence   of   Playgrounding   and   the   challenges   and   solutions   Playgrounding   poses   to   a   traditional  

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architectural  process.  Playgrounding  will  be  analysed  in  more  detail  in  relation  to  the  production  of   ‘The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death’    by  the  theatre  company  Punchdrunk.   The   changing   approach   to   conservation   and   BAC’s   acceptance   onto   the   English   Heritage   Pilot   Programme  for  Heritage  Partnership  Agreements  is  investigated  in  this  context.   A  subsidiary  case  study  will  be  included,  highlighting  the  work  of  Lina  Bo  Bardi  at  Teatro  Oficina  and   its  influence  on  the  work  taking  place  at  BAC.     The  discussion  will  review  what  alternative  Playgrounding  offers  to  the  current  architectural  process   for  Capital  Arts  Projects  and  to  the  conservation  and  adaptation  of  a  listed  building  from  the  evidence   collected.     This   proposed   method   for   successfully   managing   the   relationship   between   fabric   and   function   in   adapted   buildings   leads   to   the   recommendation   of   this   approach   for   three   reasons:   economical  viability,  sustainability  and  increased  creativity.    The  concluding  principle  is  that  not  only   should  a  building  adapt  to  a  new  function,  a  function  (even  one  as  specific  as  theatre)  should  adapt  to   a   building.     By   not   attempting   to   impose   accepted   expectations   of   theatre   configuration   and   architecture   onto   an   adapted   space,   practitioners   will   be   forced   to   step   outside   the   orthodoxies   of   their  form  and  they  will  develop  new  work  (architectural  and  theatrical)  that  challenges  the  limits  of   what  we  now  recognise  as  theatre  space.      

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Introduction     To  successfully  define  the  alchemy  of  a  theatre  space,  in  words  or  bricks  and  mortar,  is  as  elusive  to   the  writer  as  to  the  architect.  The  debate  has  been  significantly  complicated  since  the  1950’s,  when   the  basic  requirements  of  the  audience  being  able  to  see  and  hear  the  performance  were  no  longer   considered  fundamental,  throwing  into  doubt  the  very  essence  of  what  constitutes  a  theatre  space.   The   question   of   what   makes   a   good   theatre   space   belongs   to   the   personal,   protean   writings   of   a   memoir,   or   the   polemic   of   journalism.     And   yet   since   1994   the   Arts   Council   have   spent   £1.4   billion   through   Lottery   Funding   developing   arts   buildings.     So   although   the   definition   of   what   makes   a   good   theatre   space   may   be   steeped   in   theoretical   subjectivity   and   contradictions,   the   process   of   building   them  belongs  very  much  to  the  real  world.    A  decade  on  from  the  closing  of  the  Lottery  Fund  and  with   the  prospect  of  capital  funding  re-­‐opening,  the  need  to  consider  in  depth  the  successes  and  failures  of   the   scheme   is   pressing.     The   aims   of   this   dissertation   are   less   ambitious   in   scope,   relying   on   the   research  conducted  by  Alistair  Fair  for  his  recent  PhD  on  British  theatre  architecture  from  1926-­‐1991   and   the   findings   of   the   study   led   by   Professor   Alan   Short,   Designing   Dynamic   Environments   for   the   Performing  [DeDEPA]  to  justify  the  analysis  of  an  alternative  design  and  delivery  process.     As  to  what  makes  a  good  theatre  space,  this  dissertation  necessarily  makes  a  fundamental,  potentially   subjective  assumption.    A  ‘good’  theatre  space  is  neither  defined  by  its  technical  capabilities,  including   sightlines,  acoustics,  comfort  of  seating  or  ease  of  lighting  nor  by  a  naïve,  rough  found  space  quality  in   the  model  of  Peter  Brook’s  experiment  at  Bouffes  du  Nord.    Either  of  these  types  of  theatre  can  be  a   ‘good’  performance  space.  To  draw  conclusions  based  on  the  assumption  that  either  one  of  these  has   more   value   than   the   other   would   be   to   measure   current   practice   against   a   yardstick   of   outmoded   values.     In   an   article   introducing   the   findings   of   the   DeDEPA   study   Short   defined   ‘better’   buildings   for   the   performing   arts   as   ‘buildings   where   the   original   creative   vision   has   survived   intact’.     Let   us   therefore  assume  that  a  ‘good’  theatre  is  one  in  which  the  creative  potential  of  the  users  is  fulfilled.     Within   that   context,   this   dissertation   explores   how   innovative   methods   of   making   theatre   could   inform  the  established  design  process  to  encourage  the  evolvement  of  vision  and  the  centrality  of  the   user  throughout  a  capital  project.    The  exploration  is  conducted  through  the  medium  of  a  single  case   study  of  the  Battersea  Arts  Centre.  The  second  parameter  of  this  dissertation  is  defined  by  the  case   study  itself:  it  looks  at  the  process  of  redeveloping  spaces,  rather  than  new  builds.         The  volatile  and  complex  history  of  the  late  Victorian  Battersea  Arts  Centre  [BAC]  reveals  the  changing   approaches   over   the   last   three   decades   to   the   making   of   theatre   space   in   an   historic   building.   Playgrounding,   the   term   for   the   alternative   process   developed   at   BAC,   which   emerged   from   a   collaboration   between   three   key   parties:   Steve   Tompkins,   of   Haworth   Tompkins   Architects,   David  
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 Building  Excellence  in  the  arts:  a  guide  for  clients,  Commission  for  Architecture  and  the  Built  Environment,  2008,  p.3    Short,  A.,  Designing  dynamic  environments  for  the  performing  arts,  Theatres,  Issue  9,  Autumn  2006,  p.10  

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Jubb,   the   artistic   director   of   BAC   and   Felix   Barrett,   the   artistic   director   of   the   theatre   company   Punchdrunk.  Playgrounding  should  be  understood  as  the  transposition  of  the  principles  of  innovative   methods  of  making  theatre  onto  the  architectural  process.    By  starting  the  architectural  process  with   the  same  principles  as  one  would  begin  the  creative  process  in  theatre,  Playgrounding  has  become  a   design   process   of   architectural   improvisation   that   places   artists   at   the   centre   of   the   architectural   process.     The   origins   of   Playgrounding   in   BAC’s   architecture   and   theatre   programme,   Haworth   Tompkins’s   previous   work   and   Punchdrunk’s   practice   will   be   analysed   and   the   basic   characteristics   of   the   process   will   be   explored   through   the   analysis   of   a   particular   performance:  The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death  by  Punchdrunk.    In  setting  a  wider  context  for  Playgrounding  a  subsidiary  case  study  of  Teatro   Oficina  in  Sao  Paulo  is  included,  highlighting  the  design  process  of  Lina  Bo  Bardi  and  its  influence  on   the   work   taking   place   at   BAC.     The   final   segment   of   the   dissertation   will   look   at   the   proposals   Playgrounding  makes  to  a  traditional  architectural  process.       The   dissertation   is   organised   around   the   three   significant   periods   of   the   Battersea   Arts   Centre’s   architectural  development:    The  period  in  which  it  functioned  as  a  town  hall  from  1893  to  1965  and   was  then  converted  for  use  as  a  community  arts  centre  from  1983  to  1995,  the  period  from  1995  to   2004  in  which  the  first  major  capital  redevelopment  was  proposed  to  transform  it  into  a  theatre  and   finally  the  period  in  which  Playgrounding  emerged  as  a  new  approach  to  the  architecture  from  2004   to   the   present   day.     Each   chapter   will   analyse   how   the   artistic   principles   of   the   organisation   were   reflected  in  the  use  of  the  architecture.     Alistair   Fair’s   PhD   study   looked   at   the   historical   context   of   the   relationship   between   drama   and   architecture  and  his  concluding  remarks  demonstrate  the  sheer  complexity  of  the  theatre  space:     The   challenge   for   architects,   therefore,   is   to   provide   buildings   which   can   act   not   only   as   empty   containers   to   be   filled   with   actors,   audiences   and   performances,   but   also   dynamic   thresholds   which   are   both   abstract   and   specific,   linking   the   individual   and   the   group,   the   intangible   and   the   quantifiable,   the   wider   truths   of   human   nature   and   the   fixed   local   situation,  and  the  past  and  the  present,  all  the  time  imposing  inevitable  limits  on  the  present   and  future  users  whilst  simultaneously  enabling  and  empowering  them  by  being  inspiring  yet   functional  places  in  which  anything  is  possible.     It   is     little   wonder   that   the   architect   might   struggle   to   balance   quite   so   many   paradoxes   in   one   design   brief,   particularly   as   most   architects   only   work   on   a   small   number   of   performance   spaces   as   part   of   a   varied   practice.     This   dissertation   aims   to   draw   conclusions   that   will   be   relevant   for   the   practical   design   and   delivery   of   performance   spaces.     Therefore,   rather   than   singling   out   particular,   often   conflicting  characteristics  that  architects  should  seek  to  deliver  in  a  performance  space,  this  study  will   attempt   to   define   an   approach   that   leads   the   architect   and   user   together   through   a   process   of  

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exploration  and  discovery,  towards  a  space  that  reflects  their  evolving  vision  and  is  responsive  to  the   users  of  the  space.  Playgrounding  is  still  in  its  infancy  and  continues  to  be  tested.    This  is  an  account  of   its  beginnings,  basic  characteristics  and  potential  sphere  of  influence.      

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Chapter  One     Battersea  Arts  Centre  in  context  1893  –  1995     ‘The   Lost   Years   –   the   unappreciated,   undocumented,   awkward-­‐seeming   time   when   it   was   alive   to   evolution…  those  are  the  best  years,  the  time  when  the  building  can  engage  us  at  our  own  level  of   complexity.’     Battersea   Arts   Centre   [BAC]   was   originally   Battersea   Town   Hall,   built   in   1893   by   Edward   W.   Mountford.    The  building  sits  facing  south  on  a  one  acre  site  on  Lavender  Hill,  it’s  size  belied  by  the   relatively  low  façade  and  the  slope  of  the  hill,  hiding  the  depth  of  the  building  from  view  (fig.1).    The   structure   is   made   of   red   brick   and   dressed   in   Monks   Park   Bath   stone   (fig.2).   The   roof   is   made   of   west   Moreland   slate.     Mountford   described   the   style   as   ‘essentially   English   Renaissance,   though   perhaps   treated   somewhat   freely’ .   The   façade   represents   the   tripartite     structure   that   runs   throughout   the   building:   a   central   section   with   east   and   west   wings.     The   ground   floors   has   large   lunette   windows   either  side  of  a  rounded  portico  supported  on  Corinthian  columns  (fig.3).  This  relatively  simple  linear   composition   provides   the   basic   organisation   of   the   spaces:     three   sections   divided   by   two   spine   corridors   running   from   front   to   back,   each   8   ft   wide   which   Mountford   noted   ‘are   wide   and   well   lighted’ .       The   first   designs   show   these   corridors   running   the   full   length   of   the   building   (fig.4),   however   it   would   seem   that   Mountford   failed   to   take   into   account   the   considerable   incline   of   Lavender   Hill.     In   consequence   the   town   hall   is   a   building   of   two   halves,   with   each   corridor   coming   abruptly  to  a  flight  of  stairs,  before  continuing  to  the  back  of  the  building  (fig.5).    The  front  half  of  the   building   formed   the   ‘business’   side   of   municipal   life:   the   council   chamber,   the   vestry   offices   and   various    departments  of  local  government.    The  back  half  was  dedicated  to  the  ‘ceremonial’  side:  the   Grand  Hall  was  built  to  provide  a  suitably  majestic  stage  for  municipal  life.    However  unlike  its  more   imposing  predecessors,    Battersea  Town  Hall  was  built  after  the  zenith  of  municipal  display  and  the   horizon   was   accordingly   modest   in   its   outlook.     The   use   of   Grand   Hall   was   to   be   ‘similar   to   Halls   in  
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 Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.11    See  Appendix  1  for  a  biography  of  Edward  W.  Mountford   5 th  Builder,  November  25 ,  1893,  393   6 th  Builder,  November  25 ,  1893,  393   7  A  description  of  Liverpool  Town  Hall,  designed  by  James  Wyatt:  ‘The  reception  rooms  stretch  the  whole  length  of  the  building   and  are  connected  to  the  banqueting  hall  by  a  small  ballroom  on  one  side  and  a  luncheon  room  on  the  other.      This  is  an   excellent  arrangement  for  the  circulation  of  large  crowds  of  people.    The  Lord  Mayor  of  Liverpool  gives  four  receptions   annually,  each  for  1,500  guests,  and  he  frequently  dines  250  people.’  Cotton,  A.C.,  ‘Town  Halls:  the  planning  of  modern   buildings’,  London,  The  Architectural  Press,  1936,  p.17  

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other  parts  of  the  Metropolis,  for  concerts,  Bazaars,   Debating   Societies,   University   Extension   Lectures   and  Recreative  entertainments  of  a  high  class  for  the  people.’         The  interior  of  the  whole  building  is  treated  relatively  plainly,  except  for  the  profusion  of  marble  and   ornate  mosaic  floor  at  both  the  main  entrance  on  Lavender  Hill  and  the  side  entrance  to  the  Grand   Hall   (figs.   6-­‐9).     Most   rooms   have   high   ceilings   and   plain   windows,   a   simple   cornice   and   wooden   floors.     The   town   hall   was   heated   throughout   by   fireplaces   and   benefited   from   the   natural   light   coming   from   a   courtyard   Mountford   placed   at   the   heart   of   the   building.     The   courtyard   was   gradually   encroached   upon   as   successive   local   architects   attempted   to   reconcile   the   front   and   back   halves   of   the   building,   an   oddity   to   which   a   satisfactory   solution   was   never   found   (figs.10-­‐13).     The   final   characteristic   of   note   is   that   the   building   remains   to   ‘unfinished’.     The   brief   for   the   town   hall   stipulated  that  the  architect  should  make  ‘provision  for  an  extension  of  the  buildings  at  some  future   dates  without  injury  to  the  lights  or  architectural  effects.’  This  was  not  uncommon  and  examples  of   extensions   planned,   or   merely   allowed   for   were   standard   features   of   town   halls.   Cotton,   author   of   Town   Halls:   the   planning   of   modern   buildings,   wrote   that   ‘the   site   itself   must   be   large   enough   to   contain   the   present   accommodation   and   easily   half   as   much   again.’     A   number   of   local   councils   building   their   town   hall   before   the   1860’s   found   they   had   outgrown   their   new   premises   before   occupying   them.     Mountford   built   a   large   shell   and   left   the   west   wing   empty,   for   the   unknown   future   needs  of  the  organisation.    Soon  after  the  inauguration  in  1893  the  borough  architect  set  to  work  on   the  first  floor  of  the  west  wing,  building  a  new  staircase,  landing  and  offices  in  1899  (fig.14).    However   the   council   never   expanded   beyond   the   limits   of   Mountford’s   original   structure   and   to   date   the   second  floor  of  the  west  wing  remains  undeveloped.   During  the  Second  World  War  the  Shakespeare  Theatre,  which  stood  next  door  to  the  town  hall,  was   bombed.  Only  the  façade  remained  and  in  1957  it  was  completely  demolished  due  to  excessive  bomb   damage.  Under  the  Emergency  Powers  Act  of  1939  Local  Governments  were  able  to  spend  a  portion   of   their   budget   on   entertainment.   This   was   replaced   in   1948   with   a   Local   Government   Act   which   allowed   for   funding   to   continue   supporting   social   and   entertainment   activities   that   had   become   extremely   popular   during   the   war.   It   was   also   during   the   1940’s   that   the   government   launched   tentatively  into  public  funding  for  the  arts,  with  the  founding  of  CEMA ,  which  sent  musicians  and   entertainers  into  bomb  shelters  to  lift  the  spirits  of  families  who  were  suddenly  left  homeless.  It  was   the   combination   of   a   loss   of   other   local   options   for   live   entertainment   and   the   increase   in   funding   for   local  government  to  support  these  activities  that  led  to  the  town  hall  employing  an  Entertainments  
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 Anon.,  Programme  of  Inauguration,  Battersea  Municipal  Buildings  and  Town  Hall,  15.11.1893,  Battersea  History  Library,  Misc.   File  725.13  BATT,  25   9  Anon.,  Programme  of  Inauguration:  Battersea  Municipal  Buildings  and  Town  Hall,  15.11.1893,  Misc.  File  725.13  BATT,   Battersea  History  Library,  p.14   10  Cotton,  A.C.,  Town  Halls:  the  planning  of  modern  buildings,  London,  The  Architectural  Press,  1936,  p.9   11  1948  Local  Government  Act  gave  councils  limited  power  to  support  cultural  activities.    The  1948  Act  imposed  a  maximum   rate  of  6p  per  pound  to  be  spent  on  entertainment.   12  CEMA:  Council  for  the  Encouragement  of  Music  and  the  Arts  

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Officer  who,  from  1948,  put  together  seasons  of  dances,  plays,  lectures  and  talent  contests.    In  the   brochure  for  the  year  1959/60  (fig.15)  the  chairman  of  the  entertainment  committee  wrote  that  ‘[we]   are   happy   in   the   knowledge   that   for   many   residents   in   the   borough   a   night   at   the   Town   Hall   is   an   integral  part  of  their  social  life.’       The   building   continued   in   its   function   as   a   town   hall   and   a   focal   point   of   local   social   life   until   1965,   when   the   Greater   London   Council   [GLC]   was   formed   and   Battersea   Borough   was   dissolved   to   become   part   of   Wandsworth   Borough   Council   [WBC].     The   council   moved   to   new   offices   in   a   rented   space   near  Wandsworth  Town  Hall.    The  front  half  of  the  building  was  left  empty  and  quickly  began  to  fall   into   a   state   of   neglect,   whilst   the   Grand   Hall   still   held   occasional   tea   dances   and   disco   nights.     Two   years   later,   in   1967,   WBC   announced   plans   to   have   the   old   town   hall   demolished   and   an   ‘ultra-­‐ modern’   leisure   centre   built   in   its   place,   extending   onto   the   site   of   the   Shakespeare   Theatre   and   including  a  swimming  pool  and  library  (fig.  16).    Battersea  locals  immediately  came  to  the  defence  of   the   old   town   hall,   saying   it   was   vital   to   the   social   life   of   the   community   and   to   the   memory   of   old   Battersea  Borough.    Alderman  Sidney  Sporle,  then  leader  of  WBC,  clarified  that  the  Grand  Hall  would   remain  intact  and  only  the  disused  municipal  offices  at  the  front  of  the  building  would  be  demolished.     In   the   context   of   1967   Battersea,   these   plans   were   sensible.     The   façade   must   have   presented   a   sorry   picture   of   decrepitude:   still   showing   marks   of   bomb   damage   from   the   blast   that   destroyed   the   Shakespeare  Theatre,  brickwork  that  not  been  cleaned  since  at  least  before  the  war  (and  there  is  no   evidence  of  it  having  been  done  at  all  until  the  1980’s)  and  now  boarded  up  against  vandals.  It  also   looked  out  of  place:  whereas  until  the  Second  World  War  it  had  stood  next  to  the  equally  large  and   even   more   opulent   Shakespeare   Theatre   (fig.17),   it   was   now   marooned   on   Lavender   Hill   next   to   a   bomb   site.   Victorian   architecture   had   yet   to   become   fashionable   and   to   a   council   still   struggling   to   house   people   and   contend   with   rising   population   numbers,   the   old   town   hall   was   neither   beautiful   nor   useful.     Battersea   locals   believed   WBC   were   keen   to   erase   the   memory   of   an   independent   Battersea ,   but   it   is   unlikely   this   was   one   of   the   new   council’s   priorities.     By   demolishing   the   old   council   offices,   they   could   fit   a   library   and   a   swimming   pool   onto   one   site.     This   would   release   the   Latchmere   baths   and   the   Battersea   library   for   demolition   (also   an   Edward   W.   Mountford   building),   freeing   up   land   valued   at   £1.5   million   for   redevelopment   into   much   needed   social   housing.     Although   WBC  did  not  have  the  funding  in  place  to  build  the  new  leisure  centre,  they  had  been  informed  by  the   GLC  that  when  funding  re-­‐opened  for  development  projects,  councils  that  had  designs  drawn  up  and   an  empty  site  in  place  would  find  themselves  at  the  front  of  the  queue.    
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 Bicker,  H.G.,  Battersea  Town  Hall  Entertainments  Brochure  1959,  Battersea  History  Library,  MISC  File  725.13  BATT,  9    ‘Consciously  or  sub-­‐consciously  the  present  council’s  real  motive  is  to  remove  the  last  remaining  municipal  reminder  of  the   old  borough  of  Battersea  in  order  to  stamp  their  own  authority  on  the  district.’,  Eleventh-­‐hour  reprieve  for  Town  Hall  being   sought,  South  Western  Star,  14.7.1967  

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A  local  campaign  was  formed  to  save  the  building  from  demolition,  which  happened  to  coincide  with   the  nascent  movement  for  preservation  of  Victorian  architecture,  attracting  support  from  Pevsner.   These   two   movements,   one   working   from   the   bedrock   of   local   community   voices,   the   other   from   the   higher   echelons   of   power,   formed   a   stranglehold   around   WBC’s   plans   for   demolition   and   in   1970   Battersea   Town   Hall,   although   not   the   most   significant   example   of   its   kind,   was   listed   Grade   II*.   Once   it   was   listed,   there   remained   the   problem   of   what   to   do   with   the   space.     A   listing   concerned   itself  only  with  the  architecture,  rather  than  the  purpose  of  a  building.  Battersea  Town  Hall  was  not   alone  in  this  instance.  Other  empty  town  halls  at  the  time  included  Shoreditch,  Holborn,  Hampstead,   Bethnal   Green,   Tottenham   and   Hornsey.     Some   town   halls   have   since   been   restored   as   community   centres,   hotels,   commercial   offices,   serviced   apartments   or   now   house   companies   such   as   Birmingham’s  Symphony  orchestra  or  the  Urdang  Academy  in  Finsbury  Town  Hall.    As  the  Battersea   Town  Hall  had  already  become  a  focal  point  for  social  activity  and  live  entertainment,  a  council  run   community  arts  centre  was  proposed.    At  this  time  there  was  a  drive  to  put  an  arts  centre  in  every   town   and   unused   buildings   across   the   country,   notably   churches,   were   being   converted   for   the   purpose.     Not   long   after   the   building   re-­‐opened   a   writer   for   Time   Out   questioned   the   wisdom   of   these  conversions:   We  should  be  asking…  why  Arts  Centres  continue  to  be  built  or  converted  with  no  positive   idea   of   what   they   are   for   or   who   will   be   using   them…   Wandsworth   will   launch   its   reconstituted   Town   Hall   /   Arts   Centre   –   inevitably   the   usual   problems   will   occur:   lack   of   finance,   lack   of   direction,   confused   thinking   about   why   it   didn’t   work   as   any   of   them   expected.’   As  predicted,  the  new  arts  centre  quickly  ran  into  difficulties  and  with  the  election  of  a  conservative   council   in   1979   the   building   was   once   again   closed.     A   second   local   campaign   was   formed,   the   arts   centre   was   transferred   into   an   independent   trust   and   for   the   first   time   an   artistic   director   was   employed  to  run  the  building.    It  re-­‐opened  in  1980  as  ‘Battersea  Arts  Centre’  under  the  leadership  of   Jude   Kelly,   then   just   twenty   six   years   old.     Kelly   focused   her   energies   on   re-­‐establishing   a   relationship   between  the  building  and  its  community  by  engaging  with  the  building’s  heritage  as  a  town  hall.  For   Kelly  this  meant  the  pursuit  of  essentially  Victorian  principles  of  philanthropy,  fairness  and  democratic   and  social  purpose.    She  prioritised  making  the  building  accessible  and  making  work  that  involved   the   local   community.     Kelly  had  two  studios  installed  on  the  ground  floor,  one  for  dance  and  one  as   a   children’s   cinema.     She   installed   ramps   into   the   building,   a   lift   to   the   first   floor   and   disabled   dark  
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 The  Victorian  Society  was  founded  in  1958    See  appendix  2  for  the  full  listing     17  In  an  interview  with  Anthony  Roberts,  artistic  director  of  Colchester  Arts  Centre,  13.07.2009   18  Anon.,  Nothing  Too  Arty,  Time  Out  n.154,  Feb  2-­‐8  1974,  p.16-­‐17   19 th  Jude  Kelly,  Interview  with  the  author,  9  July  2009   20  ‘Very,  very  local,  community-­‐based  theatre  that  very  local  people  could  come  to  and  feel  it  was  theirs.    The  kind  of  audiences   that  came  to  it  were  very  different  from  those  that  might  come  to  a  normal  fringe  theatre  show.’  Kelly,  J.,  Interview  with  the   th author,  9  July  2009  

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rooms   on   the   ground   floor.     She   also   had   the   council   chamber   furniture   removed   and   the   space   converted   into   the   ‘main   house’,   a   flexible   space   for   workshops   and   theatre   shows   (fig.18-­‐20)   Her   focus  was  breathing  life  back  into  a  building  which  had  once  been  a  focal  point  for  the  community.   She   ran   a   local   theatre   company   and   organised   free   classes   in   pottery,   silk   screen   painting   and   photography.    Kelly  moved  on  in  1985  to  become  the  founder  artistic  director  of  the  West  Yorkshire   Playhouse  and  is  currently  the  artistic  director  of  the  South  Bank  centre.    She  has  built  a  career  out  of   ‘giving  place  meaning  through  the  arts’ :    ‘In  an  historical  context  your  obligation  is  to  pick  up  the   ropes   of   the   previous   generation,   where   they   have   laid   down   ideas   and   struggled   to   change.     Your   obligation  is  to  keep  that  going.’     Kelly  believed  that  by  aligning  the  intentions  of  the  new  arts  centre  with  the  original  purpose  of  the   building   one   could   find   a   dynamic   relationship   between   function   and   architecture.     Discussing   her   work   with   Ronnie   Mulryne,   author   of   Making   Space   for   Theatre,   she   described   the   importance   of   spaces   that   ‘already   have   a   human   history   in   the   very   bones   of   the   building,   a   certain   kind   of   authenticity…   you   want   in   such   places   to   join   the   forward   march   of   history’.   The   community   arts   centre   stumbled   on   after   Kelly   left   and   it   was   only   after   a   considerable   period   of   upheaval   and   lack   of   direction   (and   financial   uncertainty   with   the   demise   of   the   GLC)   that   the   artistic   directorship   was   taken  on  in  1990  by  the  producer  Paul  Blackman.    By  this  time  any  sense  of  community  around  the   building  had  almost  entirely  evaporated.    Blackman  ran  Battersea  Arts  Centre  for  five  years.    It  was   during   this   time   that   Blackman   dispensed   of   the     building’s   identity   as   a   community   arts   centre   because  he  decided  that  the  concept  had  ‘had  its  day’.
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 The  community  arts  centre  was,  in  Kelly’s  

vision,  tied  to  the  original  social  functions  of  the  building.    Blackman  changed  the  name  to  ‘BAC’  and   turned   the   organisation   into   a   ‘Theatre’,     doing   away   with   the   traces   of   a   community   centre   along   with  the  pottery  wheels,  disabled  darkroom  and  children’s  cinema.    He  started  actively  programming   the   three   spaces   (studio   1,   studio   2   and   the   main   house),   rather   than   hiring   them   out   to   local   companies,   enacting   ‘a   policy   of   new   writing,   and   visual   /   physical   theatre   with   radical   reinterpretations  of  the  classics’.  By  the  time  he  left  in  1995  the  old  town  hall  was  on  the  map  of   cutting  edge  London  fringe  venues  and  BAC’s  own  productions  and  co-­‐productions  accounted  for  over   half  the  programme.        
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 Jude  Kelly,  Interview  with  the  author,  9  July  2009   th  Jude  Kelly,  Interview  with  the  author,  9  July  2009   23  Jude  Kelly,  ‘The  West  Yorkshire  Playhouse’,  pp.74-­‐79  in  Ronnie  Mulryne  and  Margaret  Shewring  (eds.),  Making  space  for   theatre,  Stratford,  Mulryne  and  Shewring,  1995   24 th  Paul  Blackman,  in  interview  with  Cedric  Porter,  BAC  –  Streets  ahead  of  the  rest,  South  London  Press,  February  10  1995,  p.31   25 th  Paul  Blackman,  in  interview  with  Cedric  Porter,  BAC  –  Streets  ahead  of  the  rest,  South  London  Press,  February  10  1995,  p.31  

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Chapter  Two   ‘The  shock  of  the  new’:  Tom  Morris  and  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects       Tom  Morris,  who  was  then  primarily  a  journalist,  took  on  the  artistic  directorship  from  Paul  Blackman   in  1995.    Morris  respected  the  work  Blackman  had  done  to  raise  BAC’s  profile  as  an  important  venue   for  new  work.    He  wanted  to  concentrate  on  making  BAC  a  more  prolific  producing  theatre.  The  shift   in  focus  that  had  occurred  in  the  programme  since  Blackman’s  appointment  and  in  Morris’  first  year   in  the  post  meant  that  the  function  had  become  gradually  specialized  towards  providing  for  the  needs   of  theatre  makers  working  in  black  box  spaces  with  increasingly  advanced  technical  equipment.    This   required  an  architectural  response  which  was  growing  ever  more  urgent  as  the  relationship  between   the   activity   and   the   spaces   became   progressively   strained.     In   an   early   interview   with   the   new   artistic   director  a  journalist  asked  Morris  “What  would  you  do  with  a  million  pounds?”    He  replied,  “Build  a   beautiful  garden  in  the  middle  of  BAC.”         In   1996   Morris   began   making   plans   for   the   building’s   first   ever   comprehensive   redevelopment.     He   enlisted  Axel  Burrough  from  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects  and  plans  were  developed  over  the  following   year.       The   Levitt   Bernstein   Plans   exhibit  a  daring  and  imaginative  response   to   the  building.     Morris   had   two   priorities:   resolve   the   problem   of   circulation   created   by   the   division   of   the   front   and   back   halves   of   the   building   and   reconcile   the   building’s   new   function   as   a   theatre   to   its   architecture.   On   being  asked  whether  he  found  himself  fighting  the  architecture,  Morris  responded  ‘yes,  always.’  In   the   architect’s   brief   he   described   BAC’s   occupation   of   the   building   as   ‘squatting   in   a   grand   building   that  was  designed  to  house  municipal  offices.’
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 He  also  described  BAC’s  use  of  the  building  as  ‘an  act  

of   piracy’.   Burrough   held   that   it   is   ‘always   an   uphill   struggle   to   cope   with   a   building   which   isn’t   designed  specifically  for  what  you  want  to  do…  this  was  an  opportunity  to  actually  make  the  building   which   they   had   inherited   more   fit   for   purpose.’     He   recalled   the   challenges   Morris   faced:   ‘The   trouble   was   he   had   very   little   rooms,   very   inflexible.     The   doors   were   in   the   wrong   place,   the   relationship  to  the  dressing  rooms…  the  height,  everything  made  them  not  flexible  but  restrictive.”       Central  to  the  Levitt  Bernstein  plans  was  a  new  ‘fit  for  purpose’  studio  theatre  space  that  ‘frees’  the   original  spaces  of  their  adapted  functions.         The   new   studio   complex,   known   as   the   ‘central   studio’   was   inserted   into   the   courtyard   and   surrounded   by   a   permeable   social   area   that   encouraged   interaction   between   the   front   and   back  
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 Tom  Morris,  Look  Who’s  Talking…  ,  Putney  News,  19  January  1996,  p.10   th  Tom  Morris,  in  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009   28 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   29  Davies,  Bethan,  associate  architect  with  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects,  project  sketch  and  notes,  c.1996,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   Archive   30  Tom  Morris,  notes  for  BAC  Capital  Development  Project  Phase1  Application,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  Archive  p.2   31 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009  

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halves   of   the   building   (fig.21).     The   new   studio   provided   BAC   with   a   high   tech,   purpose   built   space   superceding   the   inflexible   rooms   which   would   no   longer   need   to   function   as   theatres.     They   would   still   be   used   but   they   would   no   longer   have   to   masquerade   as   performance   spaces:   painted   black,   rigged   and   raked.   Burrough   describes   an   attempt   to   remove   the   friction   from   an   otherwise   overburdened   relationship   by   ‘loosening   up’   the   spaces.     By   removing   the   demand   on   them,   he   believed  people  would  be  able  to  use  them  more  imaginatively:  ‘you  take  the  pressure  off  that  room   [council   chamber]   by   providing   something   which   is   possibly   more   conventional   but   is   actually   built   fit   for  purpose  and  to  current  standards  somewhere  else  in  the  building.’  The  plans  were  an  extremely   practical  response  to  a  complicated  relationship  between  function  and  architecture,  described  in  the   Lottery   Funding   application   as   ‘the   central   clash   between   the   design   of   the   building   as   a   Town   Hall   and  its  developed  use  as  a  theatre.’         Morris  had  a  particular  approach  to  producing  theatre  that  influenced  both  his  choice  of  architect  and   the  eventual  design.    The  initial  idea  of  placing  a  garden  at  the  heart  of  the  building  is  connected  to   his  producing  method.    It  was  not  just  a  garden  he  wanted,  it  was  a    ‘shockingly  unexpected  garden’   (fig.22).   When   seeing   a   piece   of   work   for   the   first   time,   he   would   encourage   BAC   producers   to   search   for  the  one  thing  in  a  production  which  might  have  a  future.    So  although  a  show  might  be  of  poor   quality,   there   may   be   interesting   lighting,   one   excellent   performer   or   beautiful   music.     Rather   than   seeing   a   piece   of   theatre   as   a   finished   whole,   it   was   made   up   a   separate   elements,   each   of   which   might   form   the   starting   place   for   another,   better   piece.     By   asking   BAC’s   producers   to   always   look   for   ‘the  next  thing’,  he  was  seeking  out  the  theatre  artists  of  the  future.    When  he  began  working  at   BAC   as   a   development   producer,   David   Jubb   recalled   that   ‘The   Shock   of   the   New’   was   a   name   that   cropped  up  regularly  as  a  potential  title  for  seasons  or  festivals  at  BAC.    Jubb  believed  that  Morris  was   ‘interested   in   “surprise”   as   one   of   the   most   vital   and   inspirational   qualities   in   theatre’.   When   asked   what  he  enjoyed  most  about  being  artistic  director  Morris  said,  “I  love  being  able  to  introduce  people   to  the  things  they  least  expect.”  Morris  applied  a  theatrical  taste  for  the  unexpected  to  his  ideas  for   the  building  and  the  shockingly  unexpected  garden  developed  into  a  metal-­‐clad,  cone-­‐shaped  tower   twice  the  height  of  the  original  building  nestled  into  the  courtyard  (fig.23).     These   tendencies   would   also   show   in   his   choice   of   architect.     The   most   significant   theatrical   experience   Levitt   Bernstein   brought   to   the   project   was   their   work   at   the   Manchester   Royal   Exchange,   first  in  1976  and  again  in  1996  after  the  nearby  IRA  bombing.    Michael  Elliot,  the  artistic  director    of  
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 Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   34  Tom  Morris,  notes  for  BAC  Capital  Development  Project  Phase1  Application,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  Archivep,.4   35 th  Tom  Morris,  in  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009   36 th  Tom  Morris,  in  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009   37 th  David  Jubb,  in  and  email  to  the  author,  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   38 th  In  response  to  the  question  ‘What  do  you  like  about  your  job?’  Tom  Morris,  Look  Who’s  Talking…  ,  Putney  News,  19  January   1996,  p.10  

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the   Manchester   Royal   Exchange,   said   ‘Here   there   really   might   be   a   theatre,   because   it   isn’t   one.     It   had  none  of  the  old  assumptions,  it  was  just  a  space.’  Morris  would  have  been  very  conscious  of  this   legacy  in  his  decision  to  work  with  them.    The  Manchester  Royal  Exchange  is  ‘a  great,  inflexible  old   trading   hall’   with   a   pod-­‐like   theatre   space   suspended   under   the   central   dome.     Working   with   Michael  Elliot,  Levitt  Bernstein  designed:     a   building   within   it   which   was   a   bit   like   an   act   of   piracy.     It   was   taking   over   the   space,   which   was   almost   an   unwilling   host…   but   it   could   take   it   because   it   was   so   big.     So   there   was   a   tremendous   tension  between  the  new  space  within  this  huge  great  hall  and  the  old  space.    And  that  was  part  of   the  excitement  –  the  tension.       Three   years   prior   to   building   the   theatre   at   Manchester   Royal   Exchange,   Michael   Elliott   recorded   a   programme  for  the  BBC,  of  which  one  episode  was  entitled  ‘On  Not  Building  For  Posterity.’    Standing   on   Waterloo   Bridge,   reflecting   on   his   recent   experience   advising   on   the   National   Theatre’s   building   committee,  he  questioned  whether  this  was  the  kind  of  theatre  we  should  be  building  and  whether   we  should  be  bequeathing  quite  so  much  concrete  to  the  next  generation  of  theatre  makers:  ‘Isn’t  it   time   we   stopped   lumbering   our   grandchildren   with   our   mistakes?’   Elliott   suggested   that   ‘In   the   future  shouldn’t  we  try  to  retain  a  certain  lightness  and  sense  of  improvisation,  and  sometimes  build   in   materials   that   do   not   require   a   bomb   to   move   them?     In   short,   shouldn’t   we   stop   building   for   posterity?’       The   Manchester   Royal   Exchange   conversion   sprang   from   this   thought   process.     There   were   obvious   ties   between   the   two   spaces   and   the   vocabulary   reflected   them:   the   new   studio   would   both   solve   Morris’  artistic  challenges  and  give  solid  form  to  the  act  of  ‘piracy’  BAC  was  already  performing  in  the   old   town   hall.     Vocabulary   can   however   be   deceiving,   and   although   the   words   ‘piracy’   and   ‘squatting’   give  the  impression  of  impermanence,  neither  the  Manchester  Royal  Exchange  theatre  nor  the  BAC   studio   were   designed   to   be   temporary.   Burrough   said   that   the   theatre   they   built   in   Manchester   ‘looked  as  if  it  could  be  taken  away  at  any  day,  it  was  camping  in  effect.’    It  may  have  looked  like  it   was  camping  in  the  space,  but  it  would  have  taken  more  than  a  day  to  remove  and  although  it  was   not  built  of  bricks  and  concrete,  it  was  also  not  designed  to  be  flat  packed.    The  design  for  BAC  went  a   step  further.  It  picked  up  the  idea  of  tension  between  new  and  old  with  a  shocking,  alien  architectural   addition,   but   did   not   pursue   even   the   illusion   of   impermanence.     Burrough   felt   that   by   building   a  
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 Elliot,  M.,  ‘On  not  building  for  posterity,  TABS  31/2  (1973):  41-­‐44,  republished  by  Mulryne,  R.  and  Shewring,  M.  (eds.),   Making  space  for  theatre:  British  Architecture  and  theatre  since  1958,  Stratford-­‐upon-­‐Avon,1995,  p.18   40 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   41 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   42  Elliot,  M.,  ‘On  not  building  for  posterity,  TABS  31/2  (1973):  41-­‐44,  republished  by  Mulryne,  R.  and  Shewring,  M.  (eds.),   Making  space  for  theatre:  British  Architecture  and  theatre  since  1958,  Stratford-­‐upon-­‐Avon,1995,  p.17   43  Elliot,  M.,  ‘On  not  building  for  posterity,  TABS  31/2  (1973):  41-­‐44,  republished  by  Mulryne,  R.  and  Shewring,  M.  (eds.),   Making  space  for  theatre:  British  Architecture  and  theatre  since  1958,  Stratford-­‐upon-­‐Avon,1995,  p.17   44 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009  

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permanent   structure   to   accommodate   the   needs   of   the   organisation,   the   use   of   the   original   spaces   could   take   on   the   more   light-­‐footed,   transitory   quality   which   Elliot   had   sought:   ‘We   were   trying   to   pursue  this  idea  of  people  being  able  to  camp  in  spaces  in  the  building,  but  that  depended  on  having   somewhere  in  the  building  that  was  well-­‐equipped  for  more  conventional  things.’    This  is  in  effect  a   subversion   of   Elliot’s   original   idea,   which   was   to   build   a   theatre   that   was   temporary   –   not   build   a   permanent   theatre   so   that   everywhere   else   could   be   used   as   a   found   space,   which   does   little   to   alter   the   standard   relationship   between   architecture   and   theatre.     ‘Normal’   theatre   taking   place   in   a   specifically   designed,   fit-­‐for-­‐purpose,   high-­‐tech   space   and   ‘site   specific’   theatre,   workshops   and   rehearsals  taking  place  elsewhere.     The  plans  were  extremely  ambitious,  architecturally  and  ideologically.    One  sketch  notes  that  Morris’   key   notes   have   ‘terrifying   aspirations’,   but   questions   whether   notions   of   ‘ambush   /   iconoclasm   /   piracy’   might   fail   to   embrace   the   more   uncertain   theatre   goers.     The   conical   central   studio   complex   stacked   rehearsal   rooms   and   a   double-­‐height   studio   theatre   on   top   of   each   other,   with   a   curving   external   staircase   rising   from   the   courtyard   (fig.24).   The   new   theatre   would   be   ‘properly   equipped,   [with]  people  facing  the  right  way  in  comfortable  seats’  and  it  would  ‘do  things  better’  than  the   existing   spaces   (fig.25).     Other   aspects   of   the   design   included   the   glass   roofed   café   area   in   the   courtyard   around   the   central   studio   (fig.26),   a   perforated   façade   on   Lavender   Hill   giving   onto   an   espresso   bar,   a   new   configuration   of   the   council   chamber   and   a   retractable   rake   in   the   Grand   Hall.     Studios  1  and  2  would  be  overhauled  with  new  technical  equipment,  seating  and  backstage  spaces.     Overall  BAC  would  have  five  functioning  theatre  spaces.    When  speaking  about  the  plans  today,  both   Morris  and  Burrough  insist  on  the  importance  of  the  Lottery  Funding  in  their  development:       1994   Lottery   Act,   so   between   1995   and   about   1998   or   1999   there   was   a   very,   incredibly   small  period  in  history  which  was  the  heyday  of  Arts  Council  Lottery  Funding  when  they  were   able  to  fund  ambitious  projects.    This  was  an  opportunity  that  had  never  occurred  before  and   has   never   occurred   again…   you   have   to   think   about   the   whole   thought   process   in   those   terms.     Observing   how   the   plans   grew   in   scope   over   the   course   of   a   year,   it   is   possible   to   imagine   a   young   organisation,  making  significant  and  exciting  work,  having  their  ambitions  fuelled  by  the  Arts  Council   capital   strategy,   encouraging   them   to   apply   for   large   sums   of   money.   Burrough   acknowledged   that   ‘the   ambitions   of   the   schemes   were   sort   of   a   response   to   the   ambitions   of   the   people   providing  
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 Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009    Davies,  Bethan,  associate  architect  with  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects,  sketch  and  notes,  c.1996,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive   47 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   48 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   49 th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009  

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lottery  money.’    The  extent  to  which  that  figure  grew  determined  ‘the  extent  to  which  we  increased   our  ambitions.’         However  in  1997  the  plans  for  redevelopment  were  cut  short  by  two  events  which  occurred  almost   simultaneously:   both   BAC   and   the   Lottery   Fund   discovered   they   had   run   out   of   money.       BAC   had   submitted  an  application  for  funding  which  should  have  lead  to  a  £12  million  Capital  Grant,  the  sum   they  had  been  encouraged  to  apply  for.    The  Arts  Council  returned  the  application  and  suggested  they   submit  another  for  around  £2  million.  The  Arts  Council  had  begun  to  realise  that  the  projects  they   had  previously  committed  to  were  running  over  budget  and  that  many  of  the  organisations  had  failed   to   account   for   revenue   funding   to   get   their   venues   up   and   running   again   once   the   works   were   finished.    The  door  for  new  projects  shut  very  suddenly.    It  was  a  huge  blow  to  a  design  team  who  had   been  told,  as  were  so  many  at  the  time,  that  anything  was  possible.    Along  with  this  came  the  sudden   realisation  that  BAC’s  deficit  was  far  larger  than  Morris  had  been  made  aware  of,  which  was  shortly   followed   by   the   departure   of   the   Head   of   Finance.     Morris   chose,   in   the   circumstances,   to   let   his   hopes  for  a  Capital  project  go  and  focus  his  energies  on  organisational  development.  BAC  was  taken   onto   the   Arts   Council’s   Recovery   Programme,   a   fund   created   to   keep   failing   organisations   afloat.     Morris  restructured  the  senior  management  team,  employed  a  fresh  team  of  producers  and  set  about   closing  the  gap  on  BAC’s  deficit.      
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 Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   th  Axel  Burrough,  interview  with  the  author,  8  June  2009   52 th  Tom  Morris,  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009  

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 2.2:  The  beginning  of  ‘scratch’     Throughout   his   tenure   as   artistic   director   Morris   maintained   a   focus   on   developing   new   work   and   supporting   new   artists.   Work-­‐in-­‐progress   sharings   were   already   taking   place   in   the   mid-­‐nineties   at   BAC   and   other   venues   across   London   such   as   Oval   House,   the   Lion   and   Unicorn   Pub   Theatre,   the   Drill   Hall   and   ICA   gallery.     But   there   were   few   ongoing   development   opportunities   supporting   artists   to   create   work   over   a   prolonged   period   of   time.   The   Lion   and   Unicorn   Pub   Theatre   was   being   run   by   Central   School   of   Speech   and   Drama,   led   by   the   recent   graduate   David   Jubb.     At   the   Lion   and   Unicron   artists   could   present   work-­‐in-­‐progress   for   three   nights   in   each   two-­‐month   season   and   some   of   that   work   would   go   on   to   have   a   three-­‐week   run.   Jubb   was   consciously   trying   to   create   a   structure   that   would  develop  artists’  work  over  time,  through  live  presentations.         The   body   of   small   to   medium-­‐sized   companies,   collectives   and   solo   artists   performing   across   fringe   venues   in   London   at   the   time   were   making   work   that   largely   focused   on   the   live   presence   of   the   theatrical  exchange:  ‘it  was  theatre  that  focussed  on  the  event-­‐hood  and  fleshiness  of  performance,   emphasising   the   visceral   presence   of   the   performer   before   a   ‘live’   audience…’   Despite   the   radicalism   of   this   theatre   turning   on   an   exploration   of   ‘the   unique   situation   that   occurs   during   performance   itself.     The   presence   of   the   performer’s   body   and   the   subjectivity   witnessed   in   the   ‘here   and  now’  by  the  audience-­‐spectator’  there  was  still  no  direct  invitation  to  the  audience  to  feedback   or   a   framework   that   engaged   artist   and   audience   in   a   structured   creative   dialogue.     BAC’s   work-­‐in-­‐ progress  sharings  at  that  time  consisted  of  artists  presenting  unfinished  pieces  of  half  an  hour  to  forty   five  minutes  for  three  nights.    These  new  work  nights  would  be  interspersed  throughout  each  season,   but  again  it  lacked  any  follow-­‐up  support  structure  or  feedback  system.    Jubb  then  programmed  the   ‘Lion  and  Unicorn  Night  of  Glee’  at  BAC  as  part  of  the  British  Festival  of  Visual  Theatre  in  1999.    This   was  a  night  of  ‘seemingly  endless  cabaret  theatre’  during  which  a  dozen  artists  tried  out  new  ideas   in  front  of  an  audience.    This  sparked  a  debate  at  BAC  about  the  value  of  presenting  work-­‐in-­‐progress   in   front   of   a   live   audience.     As   Morris   had   already   been   thinking   about   how   best   to   support   artists   developing   new   work,   BAC’s   programme   was   ‘ripe   for   a   structured   model.’   In   August   1999   Morris   employed   Jubb   as   development   producer   -­‐     a   producer   specifically   tasked   with   seeking   out   and   developing   new   artistic   talent.   That   autumn   a   brainstorming   meeting   was   held   with   BAC   artists   to   discuss   the   possible   format   for   regular   work-­‐in-­‐progress   nights.     The   artists   felt   that   they   needed   a   step  before  the  half  hour,  three  night  run.    That   first  step  would  allow  a  number  of  artists  to  share  an   evening  slot,  each  presenting  just  ten  minutes  of  a  new  idea.    Both  Jubb  and  Morris  recall  the  artist   Kazuko  Hohki  coining  the  name  ‘scratch’,  as  an  appropriate  term  for  the  ‘starting  place  for  ideas’.    
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 Jones,  S.,  New  Theatres  for  new  times,  Cambridge  History  of  British  Theatre  vol.3,  Cambridge  2004,  p.458    Jones,  S.,  New  Theatres  for  new  times,  Cambridge  History  of  British  Theatre  vol.3,  Cambridge  2004,  p.460   55 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   56 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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The   first   official   ‘scratch   night’   took   place   in   January   2000   as   part   of   a   season   of   work   called   ‘The   Shape  of  Things  to  Come’.     Later   in   2000   Morris   and   Jubb   rationalised   the   scratch   process   into   the   ‘scratch   ladder   of   development’,   a   linear   progression   for   work   to   follow   (fig.27).     The   first   rung   on   the   ladder   was   ‘freshly  scratched’,  an  evening  of  ten  minute  slots  shared  by  artists,  each  at  the  very  beginning  of  a   new   project.     The   next   step   was   the   work-­‐in-­‐progress:   forty-­‐five   minutes   to   an   hour   run  over   three   nights.    This  went  on  to  a  full-­‐length  show  run  for  a  week  and  finally,  if  the  show  has  done  particularly   well,  a  full  three-­‐week  run.    The  unspoken  understanding  was  that  artists  would  progress  from  a  full   length  show  at  BAC  to  work  at  a  central  London  theatre,  such  as  Lyric  Hammersmith,  and  from  there   to  making  work  at  the  National  Theatre.    This  structure  enabled  a    group  of  less  traditional  companies   to  find  a  place  on  the  mainstream  stage,  such  Théatre  de  Complicité,  DV8  physical  theatre,  Cheek  by   Jowl  and  Kneehigh.    At  each  stage  of  development  the  artist  is  open  to  feedback  from  the  audience   and  their  producer.       The  scratch  process  is  based  on  three  principles:     1. Improvisation:  making  it  up  as  you  go  along.  Artists  have  to  be  able  to  change  their  minds.     The  opportunity  to  make  mistakes  is  crucial  to  the  creative  process.   2. Collaboration:   placing   the   work   of   an   artist   at   the   centre   of   a   network   of   collaborative   relationships  that  support  the  work.    The  artist  being  open  to  feedback  and  responding  to  it   in  their  work  is  vital.    It  keeps  it  alive.   3.   The   principles   of   the   scratch   process   now   define   the   ethos   of   BAC   and   the   flavour   of   the   work   it   produces.     The   model   created   by   Morris,   Jubb   and   the   artists   working   at   BAC   has   been   replicated   across  London  and  beyond.     Jubb  arrived  at  BAC  after  Levitt  Bernstein’s  Capital  redevelopment  plans  had  dissolved  and  he  recalls   that  space  was  ‘very  rarely  discussed  in  programming  meetings’.    As  during  Paul  Blackman’s  time,   work   was   programmed   into   the   three   main   studio   spaces:   the   Main   House,   Studio   1   and   Studio   2.     All   essentially  black  box  spaces.    Jubb  used  Studio  2  for  the  more  experimental  work  he  was  bringing  into   the  building  as  Development  Producer.    Studio  1  housed  the  more  traditional  plays  and  studio  theatre   productions.    The  Main  House  was  used  for  the  larger  shows  that  Morris  programmed,  or  the  more   successful  work  that  had  grown  up  through  the  scratch  ladder  of  development.    A  piece  of  work  that  
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Time:  It  takes  time  to  make  good  work.  

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 In  London:  Scratch  Interact  at  Southwark  Playhouse,  Lyric  Firsts  at  Lyric  Theatre  Hammersmith,  Rough  Cuts  at  Royal  Court,   Scratch  Performances  at  National  Theatre  Theatre  and  Short  Nights  by  Nabakov  Theatre.    Beyond  London:  Scratch  Nights  at   Nightingale  Theatre  in  Brighton,  Scratch  Nights  at  Arches  in  Glasgow,  Scratch  Nights  Theater  for  the  New  City  in  New  York  and   Scratch  Nights  at  Sydney  Opera  House,  Australia.   58 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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did   very   well   during   scratch   would   run   for   three   weeks   in   a   studio,   before   transferring   to   the   main   house  for  two  or  three  nights.  During  Morris’  time  there  was  a  tension  between  ‘the  conscious  drive   for  experimental  new  theatre  practice…  and  the  more  formal  experiments  in  traditional  form  which   felt  as  though  they  were  a  comfortable  part  of  theatre  orthodoxy.’    Jubb  recalls  ‘There  was  a  very   clear  hierarchy’.    Other  parts  of  the  building  were  used  occasionally,  such  as  the  foyer,  the  attic  or   the  gallery,  but  ‘the  focus  of  the  production  team’s  efforts  was  on  servicing  the  three  theatre  spaces   and   ensuring   they   ran   smoothly.’   It   is   possible   to   surmise   that   once   Morris’   plans   to   convert   the   space   were   aborted,   he   became   less   and   less   interested   in   the   building,   as   ill-­‐matched   newly-­‐weds   might,  having  once  discovered  they  cannot  change  each  other.    His  relationship  with  the  space  was   inextricably   linked   to   his   inability   to   change   it,   as   well   as   its   relationship   with   the   council   –   which   was   increasingly   strained.     They   still   managed   the   building   and   both   the   funding   and   the   length   of   the   lease  were  ever-­‐diminishing.       Jubb  left  BAC  after  just  over  a  year  as  development  producer,  but  when  Morris  decided  to  move  on  to   become   associate   director   at   the   National   Theatre   in   2004,   Jubb   returned   to   take   over   the   artistic   directorship.    When  Jubb  applied  for  the  job  he  asked  Morris  to  help  him  think  about  whether  he  was   right   for   the   role.     He   remembers   that   one   of   the   pieces   of   advice   Morris   gave   him   was   about   the   building.  He  suggested  that  Jubb  should  consider  the  organisation’s  relationship  to  the  building  and   should  question  whether  or  not  BAC  should  be  based  in  the  town  hall:  ‘I  thought  the  reason  he  asked   that  question  spoke  volumes  about  his  relationship  with  the  space.  I  think  if  he’d  have  stayed  on  at   BAC   he   would   have   looked   for   a   different   home   for   the   organisation.’   It   was   not   the   case   throughout  Morris’  tenure,  but  in  the  end  Jubb  wrote  ‘I  don’t  think  Tom  loved  the  building.’    
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 David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   61 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   62 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   63 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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Chapter  Three   ‘Playgrounding’:  David  Jubb  and  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects         Jubb   returned   to   BAC   in   2004   and   it   was   a   year   later   that   the   programme   and   the   approach   to   the   space   began   to     differentiate   itself   from   that   of   Morris.     The   first   visible   shift   came   with   ‘Octoberfest’,   the  autumn  festival  in  2005.    The  season  brochure  opened  with  Jubb  standing  on  the  street  outside   BAC  asking  passers-­‐by  what  they  thought  of  when  he  said  the  word  ‘theatre’.    Answers  ranged  from   ‘Lots   of   people   sleeping   at   the   same   time’   and   ‘Shakespeare’,   to  

‘theatre?…(laugh)…theatre?…(laugh)…  I’ve  never  been  mate…’  (walks  off  laughing)’.    It  started  to  rain.     At  this  juncture,  Jubb  asked  himself  the  question  ‘Is  theatre  any  good?’,  which  became  the  title  of  the   season  (fig.28):     I   stood   in   the   street   and   started   to   think   about   terrible   theatre.     Boring,   deadly   theatre.     Theatre   that   assumes   its   audience   have   a   PhD.   Clever   people   writing   clever   plays   to   be   reviewed   by   more   clever   people…   Theatre   that   demands   its   audience   should   appreciate   it,   not  the  other  way  round.    No,  I  thought,  theatre  isn’t  any  good.    It’s  odious.     After  wondering  why  he  became  the  artistic  director  of  a  theatre,  given  his  views  on  the  art  form,  he   remembered   a   show   he   saw   in   1999   called   YES   YES   YES   by   the   Northern   Irish   theatre   company   Ridiculismus:     ‘This   was   theatre…   YES   YES   YES   was   outrageous…   it   made   me   think   about   travel,   friendships,   madness,  failure.  YES  YES  YES  made  me  realise  that  theatre  is  two-­‐way.    It  is  as  much  about   us,  the  audience,  as  the  people  making  it.’     Where  other  aspects  of  their  taste  and  approach  differed,  Morris  and  Jubb  found  common  ground  in   their   fascination   with   the   two-­‐way   relationship   between   audience   and   artists.     Morris,   currently   writing   a   book   entitled   ‘Unfinished   Business’,   is   interested   in   how   theatre   leaves   room   for   the   audience’s  imagination  to  journey  towards  the  story,  rather  than  offering  the  complete  picture  that   one   finds   in   the   cinema.   Jubb   trained   his   efforts   towards   supporting   artists   and   companies   who   prioritised   the   live,   collaborative   relationship   between   artist   and   audience.   Octoberfest   in   2005  
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 David  Jubb,  ‘Is  Theatre  Any  Good?’,  BAC  Season  Brochure,  October  2005,  BAC  Archive,  p.1    David  Jubb,  ‘Is  Theatre  Any  Good?’,  BAC  Season  Brochure,  October  2005,  BAC  Archive,  p.1   66  “What  brought  us  together,  as  two  people  passionate  about  making  theatre,  apart  from  a  friendship,  was  the  relationship   between  artist  and  audience.  The  brochure  of  the  British  Festival  of  Visual  Theatre  2000  shows  the  face  of  Mike  Shepherd  on   one  side  and  Benji  Reid  on  the  other,  close  up,  looking  in  to  your  eyes  as  you  stare  back.  The  potential  of  that  look  between   artists  and  audience  was  what  mutually  excited  us  both:  to  create  that  festival,  and  others  like  it,  together,  as  works  of   th passion.”  David  Jubb,  in  and  email  to  the  author,  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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featured   the   work   of   Ridiculismus   and   a   series   of   scratch   performances,   building   on   the   experimental   work  that  Jubb  had  been  in  charge  of  programming  during  his  time  as  Development  Producer.       The   distinctive   shift   came   in   the   approach   to   the   building.     Included   in   the   Octoberfest   programme   were   two   parties:   Blink,   and   Trashy   Multi-­‐Art   Form   Bingo   Blow-­‐out   Party   (fig.29).     These   were   two   multi-­‐disciplinary  nights  in  which  a  series  of  short  pieces  of  work  were  presented  across  the  building   in   spaces   not   usually   used   for   theatre,   in   the   context   of   a   party.   An   audience   member   bought   one   ticket  to  the  whole  night,  which  allowed  them  to  choose  what  work  they  wanted  to  see  and  in  what   order.  Jubb  became  interested  not  just  in  the  use  of  otherwise  latent  spaces  and  the  rough  and  ready   nature   of   the   work,   but   in   the   audience’s   journey   from   one   piece   to   the   next.   This   engendered   ‘a   sense  of  adventure  and  investment  from  the  audience’.      The  events  and  performances  that  took   place  during  the  Octoberfest  ‘Is  theatre  any  good?’  season  were  the  first  steps  towards  exploring  the   potential  of  the  building  to  house  events  that  engaged  with  multiple  spaces  and  allowed  the  audience   to  make  choices  about  their  own  journey  through  the  space.       Felix  Barrett,  the  artistic  director  of  Punchdrunk,  presented  his  first  piece  of  work  in  the  building  as   part  of   Blink.    The   Yellow   Wallpaper  took   place   in   one   of   the   attic   rooms   and   was   so   popular   that   the   producing  team  decided  to  run  it  for   the   rest   of   the   festival.   It   was   also   at   this   time   that   Jubb   read   through  the  archive  of  past  board  papers  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  building  itself  was  more   than   an   unwilling   architectural   host   for   the   theatre.     He   realised   that   BAC’s   artists   had   not   only   created  innovative  work  because  of  the  supportive  scratch  process  but  that  they  had  in  many  cases   drawn   inspiration   from   the   fact   that   they   were   working   in   a   space   that   was   not   a   theatre.     ‘BAC’s   success   was,   in   part,   because   of   the   town   hall   rather   than   despite   the   town   hall.’     Where   past   administrations   had   tended   to   consider   BAC   the   organisation   independently   from   the   town   hall,   particularly   without   the   guarantee   of   a   long   lease   on   the   building,   Jubb   decided   to   set   about   reconciling  the  organisation  to  its  architecture  and  the  architecture  to  the  organisation.     In   May   2006   Barrett   and   Punchdrunk   returned   with   The   Quest   of   a   Wave   to   BAC’s   spring   festival,   BURST.   Inspired   by   the   experiences   of   Blink   and   Trashy   Multi-­‐Art-­‐form   Bingo   Blow   Out   Jubb   began   talking  to  Barrett  about  the  idea  of  creating  a  show  within  an  arts  centre  and  an  arts  centre  that  could   live   inside   a   show,   which   would   mean   opening   up   BAC   to   create   a   building-­‐wide   performance   environment.   Barrett’s   work   is   intimately   engaged   with   architecture   and   the   audience’s   journey.   Given   their   experience   in   site-­‐responsive   work,   Punchdrunk   were   seen   as   the   ideal   collaborators.   The   company   was   founded   in   2000   as   ‘Punchdrunk   theatrical   experiences’   with   the   aim   of   creating   theatrical  environments  in  which  ‘the  audience  are  free  to  choose  what  they  watch  and  where  they  
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 David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   th  David  Jubb,  in  and  email  to  the  author,  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   69  ‘It  was  around  Burst  [May]  2006  that  we  started  having  conversations  about  a  show  inside  an  arts  centre  and  an  arts  centre   living  inside  a  show  and  what  that  might  look  like.’  [93]  

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go,’  fusing  performance,  music  and  installation  art  into  an  immersive  experience.    A  team  of  designers   take  over  a  space  and,  employing  a  filmic  level  of  detail,  transform  it  into  a  world  that  the  audience   can   explore,   encouraging   them   to   ‘rediscover   the   excitement   and   childlike   anticipation   of   exploring   the   unknown.’   Punchdrunk   had   previously   created   Prospero’s   island   in   a   distillery   in   Deptford,   a   Hitchcock  version  of  Macbeth  in  an  old  Victorian  school,  Romeo  and  Juliet  in  Offley  Works,  a  disused   factory  in  London  and  Faust,  in  collaboration  with  the  National  Theatre,  in  a  disused  archive  building   in   Wapping.     Jubb   and   Barrett   set   out   the   parameters   of   a   building-­‐wide   show   at   Battersea   Arts   Centre  and  in  June  2006  the  resulting  ideas  of  opening  up  unexploited  areas  of  the  building  for  artist   use   were   presented   to   BAC’s   board.   Jubb   had   also   begun   to   think   about   how   a   building-­‐wide   production  might  relate  to  his  desire  to  reconcile  BAC  to  its  architecture  and  deal  with  some  of  the   immediate   challenges   of   the   building.     At   this   time   the   term   used   to   describe   the   concept   was   a   ‘theatrical  village’:     A  single  theatre  production  will  occupy  the  entire  BAC  village  at  one  time…each  production   will  employ  an  overall  conceptual  framework  or  story  which  will  encompass  the  village…  As   part  of  these  productions  we  will  create  a  long-­‐term  vision  for  the  future  of  this  building.    We   want  an  architect  to  become  associated  with  the  productions.    We  will  develop  our  vision  for   the  building  in  collaboration  with  this  architect  and  our  artists  and  audiences.    In  2010  as  the   final   production   closes   we   will   deliver   a   capital   project   that   will   skilfully   and   modestly   redevelop  our  environment,  judiciously  investing  in  the  discoveries  of  the  village  projects…  In   this  way  BAC  will  act  as  a  pioneer  for  how  arts  buildings  are  thought  about  in  the  future.     Nick  Starr,  Chief  Executive  of  the  National  Theatre,  was  then  Chair  of  BAC’s  board.    He  stayed  behind   after   the   board   meeting   and   suggested   a   meeting   with   Steve   Tompkins.   Starr   had   worked   with   Tompkins  on  the  temporary  Gainsborough  Studios  for  the  Almeida  Theatre  and  the  National  Theatre   Studio.  Tompkins  described  their  relationship  as  very  ‘light  footed,  very  trusting,  straightforward,  very   informal,  cutting  through  a  lot  of  red  tape,  cutting  through  a  lot  of…  accepted  procedure  to  get  things   done.   Mainly   because   they   were   such   quick   projects…   they   weren’t   like   architecture   projects,   they   were   much   more   like   set   builds,   right   from   the   outset   you’re   working   within   a   different   set   of   expectations,   different   timescales.’     Starr   pursued   an   instinct   that   Tompkins   would   be   inspired   by   the   process   Jubb   was   proposing   and   that   it   would   be   ‘a   personality   match   as   much   as   a   good   fit   of   idea  and  ambition’.       Haworth  Tompkins  is  a  practice  well  versed  in  delivering  buildings  for  the  arts.    Tompkins’  first  theatre   work  was  the  restoration  of  the  Royal  Court  in  Sloane  Square  in  1999,  shortly  followed  by  his  work  
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 All  Punchdrunk  quotes  taken  from  http://www.punchdrunk.org.uk/about.htm,  accessed  on  28.05.2009    BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  BAC  Archive   72 th  Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009   73 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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with   Nick   Starr   for   the   Almeida   at   the   Gainsborough   Studios.     In   the   same   year   he   rebuilt   the   Regents   Park   Theatre.   Tompkins   built   The   Egg   and   The   Ustinov,   a   space   for   young   people   and   a   studio   theatre   for  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Bath.    In  2006  he  built  the  North  Wall,  a  theatre  for  a  school  in  Oxford  and   rebuilt  the  Young  Vic  Theatre,  followed  by  a  move  a  few  hundred  yards  down  The  Cut  to  deliver  the   National   Theatre   Studio.   Most   recently   Haworth   Tompkins   have   completed   a   creative   campus   for   Aldeburgh   Music   and,   alongside   Battersea   Arts   Centre,   the   practice   are   working   on   the   Liverpool   Everyman,   Liverpool   Playhouse   and   the   National   Theatre   redevelopment   plans.     The   practice   also   work  on  social  housing,  galleries,  libraries  and  urban  regeneration  schemes  but  Tompkins  is  perhaps   the   closest   thing   this   generation   of   architects   gets   to   a   modern   Matcham.     The   practice’s   work   is   difficult   to   pin   down   in   terms   of   style,   perhaps   because   a   large   body   of   their   work   comprises   of   rebuilding,  refurbishing,  redeveloping  or  temporary  work.  They  say  that  they  are  ‘primarily  influenced   by   the   specific   chemistry   of   individual   places   and   cultural   situations’   and   that   what   each   building   shares   in   common   is   the   approach,   rather   than   a   signature   style.   This   emphasis   on   process   in   their   practice  would  favour  the  relationship  with  BAC.       Jubb   recalls   a   meeting   held   in   the   courtyard   of   BAC   in   the   summer   of   2006,   not   long   after   their   initial   introduction.    He  described  to  Tompkins  the  idea  of  a  show  living  inside  an  arts  centre  and  a  capital   project   that   ‘invests   in   the   discoveries’   of   the   show.     At   one   point   he   realised   he   was   making   it   sound   more  developed  as  an  idea,  and  more  certain,  than  it  actually  was.    He  stopped  to  confess  that  he  was   actually  making  this  up  as  he  went  along  and  Tompkins  responded  ‘ah,  a  man  after  my  own  heart.’     Jubb   felt   Tompkins   would   be   the   right   architect   for   BAC   as   ‘He   was   someone   I   didn’t   have   to   pretend   with;   it’s   a   ridiculously   rare   thing   for   brilliant   people   like   Steve   to   show   vulnerability,   to   show   that   they’re   out   on   a   limb,   that   they’re   sometimes   not   sure   what   the   next   move   is.’     Jubb   felt   collaboration  was  possible  with  someone  if  they  were  prepared  to  admit  they  did  not  know  how  or   where  it  might  end  –  a  collaboration  that  involved  risk.         After   these   initial   conversations   about   the   building,   Jubb   and   Tompkins   decided   to   write   letters   to   each  other,  to  see  if  their  thoughts  were  consistent.     It   is   from   these   letters   that   an   early   definition   of   Playgrounding   emerged.   The   term   ‘Playgrounding’   comes   from   the   idea   of   a   children’s   playground:   children   use   a   playground   not   just   for   what   it   is,   but   as   an   opening   into   many   different   worlds.     A   playground   has   both   structured   elements   and   undefined   areas   for   children   to   run   around   in,   a   balance  between  equipment  and  free  space.  ‘The  idea  of  Playgrounding  is  simply  about  artists,  staff   and   audiences   doing   what   we   all   used   to   do   in   our   playgrounds,   creating   flexible   worlds   in   which   anything  could  happen.’    The  significance  of  BAC  as  a  found  space  in  this  concept  is  important,  as  
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 http://www.haworthtompkins.com   th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   76 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   77  See  appendix  4  for  copies  of  the  letters   78 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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Jubb  points  out  that  often  the  very  best  games  are  those  played  in  the  areas  of  the  playground  that   have   not   been   especially   equipped   or   designed   –   ‘the   parts   of   the   playground   where   we   could   create   our  own  worlds.’     The   letters   written   by   Tompkins   and   Jubb   were   presented   to   the   BAC   board   in   October   2006   and   funds   for   further   conversations   with   Haworth   Tompkins   to   explore   Playgrounding   were   approved.     The  conversation  with  Tompkins  about  opening  up  the  building  and  improving  the  facilities  for  artist   use   was   running   parallel   to   discussions   with   Barrett   about   a   building-­‐wide   production.   It   had   been   decided  that  the  Punchdrunk  production  would  create  a  building-­‐wide  performance  piece  based  on   the   stories   of   Edgar   Allen   Poe,   using   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   as   the   overall   framing   device.   There   was   a   natural   confluence   between   this   project   and   the   wider   plans   for   developing   the   building,   so   Jubb   introduced   Barrett   and   Tompkins   in   Autumn   2006.     When   Jubb   wrote   to   Barrett   outlining   the   parameters   of   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death,   he   spoke   about   Tompkins’   potential   collaboration   on   the  project:     ‘As  you  know  BAC  is  hoping  Steve  [Tompkins]  will  be  involved  in  the  redevelopment  of  BAC’s   building   over   the   next   three   years…   We   believe   that   discoveries   we   make   during   the   building-­‐wide  project  will  feed  directly  into  plans  for  a  modest  redevelopment  in  2011.    Steve   is  even  up  for  helping  us  try  some  ‘temporary’  ideas  out  via  each  building  wide  project,  so   one  or  two  ideas  could  figure  as  part  of  project  Poe.’     Barrett  agreed  to  a  collaboration  and  he,  Jubb  and  Tompkins  met  in  the  autumn  to  walk  around  the   building  and  discuss  the  potential  overlap.    As  the  production  was  beginning  to  take  shape  however,   BAC   encountered   an   unforeseen   setback   that   would   profoundly   affect   their   relationship   with   the   building  and  the  future  of  the  capital  plans  with  Haworth  Tompkins.       On   the   10th   of   January   2007   BAC   received   a   letter   from   Wandsworth   Borough   Council   [WBC]   announcing   that,   as   part   of   a   £5   million   cost   cutting   exercise   across   the   borough,   they   would   be   cutting  BAC’s  funding  from  £100,000  to  zero  and  ending  BAC’s  subsidised  rent  of  the  building.    Rent   charges  would  be  put  in  place  for  the  town  hall  totalling  circa  £270,000  per  year,  with  a  net  impact  of   £370,000  on  BAC’s  budget,  coming  into  force  as  of  April  2007.      Since  the  late  1990’s  BAC  had  been  on   an   increasingly   short   tenancy   agreement   with   the   council.     By   2007   it   was   a   six   month   lease.     The   work  of  the  arts  centre  was  seen  to  have  outgrown  its  local  origins  as  a  community  arts  centre  and  
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 David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009      David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  an  email  to  Felix  Barrett  (felix@punchdrunk.org.uk)  Rock  on,  24 October  2006  

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WBC   argued   that   it   was   a   national   organisation   and   should   therefore   be   nationally   funded   –   it   should   not  fall  to  them  to  subsidise  an  organisation  providing  services  to  people  across  London.       Had  the  council’s  cuts  been  implemented,  it  would  have  forced  BAC  to  close  its  doors.    In  forming  a   plan   of   action,   Jubb   recalled   Morris’s   parting   thoughts   about   whether   BAC   should   be   based   in   the   town  hall  or  not.  The  withdrawal  of  the  council’s  support  could  have  been  the  right  moment  to  start   looking  for  a  new  home  for  the  organisation.    Instead,  the  challenge  served  to  clarify  in  Jubb’s  mind   the  importance  and  uniqueness  of  the  building  and  its  history.    Not  only  was  it  a  town  hall  rather  than   a   theatre,   but   it   had   also   developed   a   twenty-­‐five-­‐year   artistic   heritage   of   companies   who   had   created   and   performed   their   earliest   work   in   the   studios.   The   idea   of   leaving   the   building   solidified   the   lessons   learnt   through   the   Octoberfest   programme   in   2005   and   the   conversations   with   Barrett   and  Tompkins  in  2006:  the  town  hall  space  was  one  of  the  key  reasons  for  the  organisation’s  artistic   success   in   the   last   twenty   five   years.     The   loss   incurred   by   a   move   to   another   space   was   unquantifiable.     A   campaign   was   formed   to   save   BAC:   the   third   in   its   history.     Throughout   the   campaign   the   focus   in   the   wider   theatrical   community   was   on   BAC’s   contribution   to   British   theatre   as   an   incubator   for   the   next   generation   of   artists.     Nicholas   Hytner,   artistic   director   of   the   National   Theatre,  put  the  case  for  BAC  succinctly  by  stating  that  its  closure  would  be  ‘a  crushing  blow…BAC  has   in   recent   years   provided   a   whole   generation   of   theatre   makers   without   whom   more   established   venues  like  the  National  would  quickly  atrophy.’  The  theatre  community,  predictably,  poured  wrath   on  Wandsworth  Borough  Council.    Tom  Morris  allowed  years  of  frustration  with  the  council  to  surface   in   an   article   in   The   Observer:   ‘Wandsworth   Borough   Council   has   s**t   on   BAC   again…   Wandsworth   councillors  are  Philistine  backwoodsmen  who  are  prepared  to  sacrifice  a  cultural  pearl  on  their  own   doorstep  for  the  sake  of  having  the  lowest  council  tax  in  the  country.’    Despite  Wandsworth’s  valid   argument   that   because   BAC   had   become   a   national   institution,   attracting   audiences   from   across   London  and  beyond,  it  was  no  longer  appropriate  for  it  to  receive  local  authority  funding,  they  were   lambasted   in   the   national   press   for   going   ‘back   to   the   old   Tory   basics   of   arts   cuts’.     In   general   terms   the  press  and  theatre  community  blamed  philistinism  and  political  gamesmanship  for  Wandsworth’s   cutting   spree.     The   council   relayed   the   blame   onto   a   shortfall   in   their   settlement   from   the   Labour   government,   forcing   them   to   make   difficult   choices   about   borough   services.     This   was   seen   as   ‘a   case   of   don’t   blame   us,   blame   Gordon   Brown.’     The   story   put   a   dent   in   the   artistic   community’s   belief   in   the   Cameron-­‐era   Conservatism.     The   wide   attention   given   to   BAC’s   situation   forced   the   council   to   delay  their  initial  cuts,  but  it  did  little  to  foster  a  positive  relationship  between  BAC  and  WBC.      WBC   offered  to  reinstate  £85,000  of  BAC’s  £100,000  annual  grant,  but  made  no  moves  to  rescind  the  rent  
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 In  a  twist  of  irony,  three  months  earlier  WBC  had  awarded  BAC  ‘Best  Community  Contribution’  at  the  Wandsworth  Council   Business  Awards.   82  See  appendix  3  for  detailed  timeline   83  Hytner,  N.,  Backing  BAC,  Time  Out  London,  January  31  –  February  6  2007,  p.144   84  Morris,  T.,  The  spirit  of  Tebbit  walks  the  stage  in  Battersea,  The  Observer  Review,  Arts  Column,  21.01.2007   85  Blacken,  T.,  Back  to  the  old  Tory  basics  of  arts  cuts,  The  Independent,  24.1.2007,  p.30   86  Cavendish,  D.,  First  person  singular:  Why  should  the  Tories  bother  with  the  arts?,  The  Daily  Telegraph,  17.02.2007,  p.12  

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and   running   cost   bill   of   £270,000.     It   was   Nick   Starr   who   brought   BAC   and   WBC   to   a   negotiating   point   and   made   WBC   realise   that   without   a   subsidised   rent   agreement,   the   old   town   hall   would   close.     Whilst   the   theatre   community   was   fretting   over   the   closure   of   a   ‘cultural   powerhouse’,   WBC   were   realising  that  they  would  once  again  have  an  empty  building  on  their  hands  towards  which,  as  a  listed   asset,   they   would   have   a   duty   of   care.     It   was   never   the   WBC’s   intention   for   BAC   to   close   –   it   was   simply   a   poorly   timed   suggestion   that   they   find   their   funding   elsewhere.     The   line   between   what   constitutes  a  local  organisation,  serving  the  needs  of  local  people  and  what  is  a  national  institution  is   a  fine  one  and  not  to  be  defined  here.    WBC  prioritised  other  services  and  assumed  that  arts  funding   should   come   from   a   centrally   allocated   source,   however   under   very   public   scrutiny   they   found   it   necessary  renegotiate.           BAC  proposed  to  take  the  venue  into  a  Building  Preservation  Trust  which  would  hold  a  long  lease  on   the  centre  and  take  on  liability  for  the  site.    This  was  similar  to  the  action  taken  in  1980,  when  the   council-­‐run  arts  centre  briefly  closed  until  it  was  taken  into  an  independent  trust.    WBC  agreed  to  a   125-­‐year  lease  on  the  building,  with  the  first  20  years  rent-­‐free.    In  exchange  BAC  took  responsibility   for   the   building’s   upkeep   and   undertook   to   carry   out   repair   work   totalling   £2.5   million   within   the   first   decade.    Council  leader  Edward  Lister  stated  ‘This  will  be  an  excellent  outcome  for  the  borough,  the   building   will   be   looked   after,   the   council   tax-­‐payer   will   be   protected   and   the   venue   will   have   the   chance   to   flourish.’   The   125-­‐year   lease   also   had   a   positive   repercussion   on   the   redevelopment   plans.  Although  BAC  shouldered  £250,000  of  repairs  per  year  for  the  next  ten  years,  on  top  of    regular   upkeep   and   organisational   costs,   the   security   of   the   lease   significantly   increased   the   potential   for   raising  the  funds  for  comprehensive  redevelopment.    The  Arts  Council’s  requirement  of  a  minimum   20-­‐year  lease  to  release  Capital  funding,  mirrored  by  other  major  funding  bodies,  could  be  met  for  the   first   time.     Apart   from   the   practical   implications   of   the   lease,   it   also   fundamentally   altered   BAC’s   relationship   to   the   building.     Suddenly,   for   the   first   time   since   it   opened   in   1974,   the   organisation   owned   the   building.     When   something   went   wrong   with   the   building,   it   was   no   longer   a   case   of   phoning   the   landlord.     BAC   had   responsibility   for   its   care   and   control   over   its   future.     Conservation   bodies  aside,  the  future  of  the  town  hall  was,  for  the  first  time,  in  BAC’s  hands.         During   the   campaign   to   save   the   building,   BAC   was   also   thrust   into   the   national   media   at   an   unprecedented   level,   which   all   three   parties   exploited   as   free   advertising   for   the   Punchdrunk   project.   This  meant  that    they  balanced  the  message  of  the  potential  loss  of  the  building  with  a  positive  one   about   the   future   of   the   organisation,   underlining   in   particular   BAC’s   role   as   a   development   organisation   pushing   the   boundaries   of     the   sector.     Because   the   focus   of   the   debate   was   on   the   building   itself,   towards   the   end   of   the   ‘Wandsworth   crisis’,   many   of   the   announcements   about   the   125-­‐year   lease   with   WBC   were   accompanied   by   news   of   the   collaboration   with   Punchdrunk   and  
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 Lister,  E.,  Battersea  Arts  Centre’s  future  safe  with  125-­‐year  lease  deal,  Wandsworth  Borough  News,  24.10.2007,  p.3  

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Haworth   Tompkins   / .   This   meant   that   the   theatre   sector   was   made   aware   of   the   architectural   collaboration  underlying  the  Punchdrunk  project  in  way  that  would  otherwise  have  been  difficult  to   publicize.  When  speaking  about  the  ‘Wandsworth  crisis’,  Jubb  reflected  on  how  positive  it  was  for  the   Punchdrunk   project:   BAC’s   board   allowed   the   production   costs   of   the   show   to   escalate   from   a   predicted  £200,000  to  £460,000  ‘because  it  was  do  or  die.’  The  crisis  raised  the  artistic  and  financial   ambitions  of  the  project.  
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 ‘…a  deal  which  will  see  Wandsworth  giving  BAC  annual  funding  of  £85,000  for  the  next  two  years  and  a  transference  of  the   Grade  II*  listed  building  to  an  independent  theatre  preservation  trust...  Not  only  that,  but  the  brilliant  Punchdrunk  is  following   up  the  success  of  Faust  with  a  new  piece  for  BAC  –  the  Masque  of  the  Red  Death.’  Lyn  Gardner,  Guardian  Blog,  March  2007   89  ‘BAC’s  scheme  involves  a  partnership  between  Royal  Court  architect  Steve  Tompkins  and  Punchdrunk  theatre  company  to   open  up  the  building  for  mobile  performances.    The  first  will  be  a  co-­‐production  of  the  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  …  in  the   autumn  and  a  “re-­‐imagining”  of  the  spaces  in  the  old  town  hall.’  BAC  saved  by  lease  plan,  Arts  Industry,  5.4.2007,  p.4   90 rd  David  Jubb,  in  an  interview  with  the  author,  23  February  2009  

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3.1:  Playgrounding  and  scratch  in  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death     The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  was  the  first  practical  investigation  of  Playgrounding.    Over  the  seven   months   of   the   project   Playgrounding   developed   the   three   key   process   principles   of   scratch   into   an   approach  to  the  building:  improvisation,  collaboration  and  taking  time.  In  the  course  of  transposing   the   principles   of   scratch   into   an   architectural   investigation,   two   organisation   specific   values   emerged:   taking   inspiration   from   ‘things   that   don’t   belong’   (making   theatre   in   a   town   hall)   and   creating   a   building   that   needs   its   inhabitants.   The   process   principles   are   broad   attempts   at   defining   an   alternative  to  an  orthodox  capital  project.  The  values  relate  more  specifically  to  BAC’s  organisational   and   architectural   makeup.     How   these   ideas   migrated   out   of   the   scratch   process   and   into   Playgrounding   will   be   looked   at   in   the   context   of   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death.   Once   the   basic   principles   of   Playgrounding   were   established   BAC   began   to   look   for   comparative   examples   against   which  to  test  their  ideas.    A  subsidiary  case  study  of  Lina  Bo  Bardi’s  Teatro  Oficina  will  be  introduced   in   which   some   of   these   ideas   are   explored.     Finally   the   process   Playgrounding   proposes   will   be   examined  in  more  detail  in  relation  to  the  established  method  of  design  and  delivery  of  capital  arts   projects.    

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Improvisation     Most  artists  who  benefit  from  the  structure  of  scratch  at  BAC  make  their  work  through  a  process  of   improvisation  or    devising.  The  scratch  process  provides  a  support  structure  for  a  method  of  making   work   that   can   otherwise   lack   a   clear   development   process.     Jubb   described   this   method   of   making   theatre  in  his  letter  to  Tompkins  as  ‘making  it  up  as  we  go  along.’    Punchdrunk  are  a  good  example  of   the  scratch  in  practice.    The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  was  their  fourth  show  at  BAC.    The  first  show,   The   Yellow   Wallpaper,   was   a   ten   minute   piece   in   the   attic.     They   were   then   invited   back   to   make   another  short  piece,  The  Quest  of  a  Wave,  as  part  of  BAC’s  main  annual  festival.    The  third  show,  Lord   Bulingdon’s  Last  Cigar,    was  a  young  people’s  theatre  piece,  made  with  participants  from  BAC’s  youth   theatre  programme.       Improvisation   comes   in   many   different   forms,   however   the   principle   is   that   material   is   generated   from  an  initial  inspiration  or  idea,    through  a  series  of  exercises  or  games  often  repeated  many  times   over   in   search   of   a   storyline   or   character.   As   Punchdrunk’s   work   is   largely   created   in   response   to   a   place  and  the  theatrical  possibilities  it  offers,  the  process  begins  when  Barrett  enters  a  space  and  gets   a  sense  of  the  atmosphere,  imagining  what  kind  of  theatrical  world  is  latent  in  the  space.  Choosing  to   create  the  world  of  Edgar  Allen  Poe  in  BAC  was  Barrett’s  instinctual  reaction  to  that  building.    Each   previous  piece  was  a  scratch  of  the  visual  and  story-­‐telling  themes  that  emerged  in  their  fullest  form   in  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death.    After  his  initial  response  to  the  building  Barrett  gathers  a  company   of  actors,  who  preferably  have  never  seen  the  space  before,  and  he  goes  through  a  series  of  exercises   with  them.    He  looks  for  what  the  building  does  to  you  when  you  walk  through  it  –  where  does  it  lead   you?     Where   does   it   discourage   you   from   entering?     Where   is   it   warm   or   cold,   light   or   dark?   What   features   can   the   performers   use?   Through   this   he   builds   up   a   picture   of   how   a   show   might   evolve   across   the   building   over   the   course   of   an   evening.     He   creates   a   framework   which   sets   out   which   stories,  or  chapters  of  a  story,  will  happen  in  which  spaces.         At  BAC  he  decided  to  use  the  entire  East  wing  on  the  first  floor    to  create  the  House  of  Usher  because   he   felt   the   large   rooms   with   high   ceilings   had   the   feeling   of   a   decaying   estate   (fig.30).     Whilst   exploring  the  first  floor  of  the  West  wing  he  lifted  up  some  of  the  wooden  parquet  flooring  and  saw   the  concrete  underneath.    He  decided  to  turn  the  whole  wing  into  the  backstreets  of  Paris,  with  an   open  courtyard  leading  to  a  wine  cellar,  a  piano  tuner,  a  perfumery  and  an  opium  den  (fig  31).    When   he  knows  which  parts  of  the  story  will  be  told  in  which  rooms,  he  designs  the  show.    Barrett  works   with  a  small  army  of  designers,  painters  and  prop-­‐makers  to  create  the  world  of  the  show  in  minute,   filmic   detail.     The   basic   rhythm   and   structure   of   the   show   are   profoundly   affected   by   the   architecture   –  what  the  building  has  to  offer,  the  theatre  engages  with  and  responds  to.    The  performers  spend   time   in   the   space   developing   their   scenes   in   relation   to   what   it   offers   them   (figs.32-­‐35).   For   The   Masque  of  the  Red  Death  they  created  a  journey  from  a  town  full  of  secrecy,  confusion  and  death  in  

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the  front  half  of  the  building  (fig.36)  to  Prince  Prospero’s  palace,  full  of  revelry  and  grandeur  in  the   back,   from   division,   isolation   and   disorientation   in   the   warren   of   municipal   offices   to   unity   and   congregation  in  the  Grand  Hall  (fig.37).         Once  Barrett  has  created  the  environments  he  envisioned,  he  then  introduces  the  actors  into  them.     The  actors  are  given  the  setting  and  the  story  as  inspiration,  such  as:  you  are  the  narrator  in  The  Fall   of  the  House  of  Usher,  this  is  the  reception  room  of  the  House  of  Usher,  you  have  just  arrived  at  the   house.     It   is   then   up   to   the   performers   to   develop   a   way   of   telling   the   story.     Barrett,   as   auteur,   circulates   the   set   visiting   each   scene   in   development   and   offering   direction,   watching   what   the   performers   have   devised   and   making   suggestions.     Throughout   the   rehearsal   process   and   into   the   early   weeks   of   the   show   the   ideas   will   continue   to   change   and   evolve.     Maxine   Doyle,   Barrett’s   co-­‐ director,  says  ‘the  cast  are  responsible  for  creating  a  lot  of  their  own  stories  and  ideas,  so  they  have  a   real  ownership  of  the  piece.    Every  night  I’m  surprised  by  things  I  haven’t  seen  before.’   Tompkins   defined   Jubb’s   approach   as   ‘an   exploration   of   improvised,   sit-­‐specific   and   experimental   work  in  the  building  with  a  series  of  theatre  artists’  and  proposed  a  parallel  investigation  into  the   building’s   architectural   potential.     He   suggested   that   to   combine   a   theatrical   and   architectural   investigation   into   the   space,   based   on   improvisation,   might   be   more   suited   to   BAC   than   a   ‘conventional   feasibility   study   by   independent   design   consultants.’     What   would   an   architectural   investigation   based   on   improvisation   look   like?   Jubb   wanted   to   mirror   the   playfulness,   messiness   and   search  for  the  unknown  found  in  improvisation  in  his  approach  to  the  building.    He  wanted  to  create   an  environment  in  which  it  would  be  possible  to  experiment  and  push  boundaries.    In  order  to  do  that   there   had   to   be   room   for   mistakes   and   time   for   revisions.     Making   mistakes   is   a   vital   part   of   the   creative   process.     During   the   making   process,   there   is   no   right   or   wrong   answer,   there   are   just   proposals.    So  a  performer  will  try  a  scene  many  different  ways  before  settling  on  a  solution.    And  the   ‘solution’  in  improvised  work  rarely  remains  fixed.    Even  once  a  production  has  been  scripted  it  will   change   in   response   to   a   new   space,   audience   reactions   or   changes   in   the   cast.     In   the   first   two   preview   weeks   of   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   the   finale   of   the   show   changed   three   times.     The   potential  for  change  and  development  is  inherent  in  the  improvisation  process.  Jubb  described  in  his   letter   the   desire   to   find   an   architectural   process   which   could   mirror   this,   a   process   ‘[which]   takes   account   of   instinct   and   story,   accidental   discovery   and   a   love   of   play,   in   another   word,   theatre.’   Playgrounding   would   propose   theatrical   conventions   such   as   improvisation   and   the   right   to   make   mistakes   as   positive   forms   of   architectural   investigation.     It   would   also   question   the   level   of   ‘finish’   required  in  a  capital  project.        
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 Doyle,  M.,  Showpeople,  The  Stage,  18.10.2007,  p.7    Steve  Tompkins  S.,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive   93  Steve  Tompkins  S.,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive  

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Finally,  improvisation  relies  on  collaboration.    In  order  to  find  the  right  answers  Barrett  first  needed   the   space,   then   the   space   and   the   performers   and   finally   the   space,   performers   and   the   audience.     The  show  did  not  stop  changing  until  all  three  relationships  had  been  established.    

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Collaboration     Collaboration   Iies   at   the   heart   of   scratch:   collaboration   between   the   artist   and   the   producer   for   feedback  and  support,  and  between  artists  and  audience  for  feedback  during  the  making  period  and  a   live  relationship  during  the  performance.    Playgrounding  proposed  to  extend  that  collaboration  to  the   architectural   process:   a   collaboration   between   theatre   artists,   architecture,   architect   and   audience.   Tompkins   suggested   in   his   letter   that   the   design   should   take   inspiration   from   the   more   ephemeral   architecture   of   the   stage   set.   The   close   relationship   between   the   development   of   designs   for   the   architecture  and  for  the  theatre  would  ‘allow  the  work  of  artists  to  reposition  the  space’  and  would   be  a  more  ‘achievable  and  affordable  way  of  exploring  the  building’s  potential’.    Finding  the  balance   of  power  in  a  collaboration  is  key,  and  BAC  wanted  to  redress  the  balance  between  the  architect  as   the   active   expert   and   the   client   (in   this   case   artists)   as   the   passive   amateur.     The   Playgrounding   process  would  be  formed  out  of  a  collaboration  between  the  imagination  of  theatre  makers  and  the   expertise   of   the   architect.   Practically   this   collaboration   between   the   theatrical   and   architectural   processes  would  allow  ideas  to  be  tested  through  the  ephemera  of  theatre  before  being  committed   to   in   the   permanence   of   architecture,   ‘a   rare   luxury   that   is   seldom   achievable   in   more   orthodox   developments’.      
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When  asked  to  describe  the  essence  of  Playgrounding,  Jubb  often  refers  to  the  day  when  he,  Barrett   and   Tompkins   first   walked   around   the   building   together   to   discuss   the   project.   Barrett   was   expounding   on   Edgar   Allen   Poe’s   work   and   his   use   of   fire   as   a   significant   symbol.     Tompkins   responded  that  BAC  had  a  number  of  boarded  up  fire  places  and  suggested  opening  one  of  them  up   to   be   used   in   the   show.     Jubb   recalls   how   ‘Felix’s   excitement   for   the   potential   magic   of   this   in   the   show  was  matched  by  my  excitement  of  the  legacy  of  that  fireplace  in  the  building.  I  think  it  was  a   moment  when  theory  fell  easily  in  to  practice  and  I  realised  the  idea  had  legs.’  (fig.38).  Tompkins   also   recalled   that   conversation   and   the   experience   of   seeing   the   building   through   the   ‘magpie   eyes’
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  of   Barrett.     Entering   the   ground   floor   west   wing   corridor,   which   diverts   around   a   series   of  
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partitions,   the   General   Manager   remarked   ‘All   this   is   a   mess   –   all   these   offices   were   constructed   –   people  get  partition  happy’.    The  natural  inclination  might  be  to  clear  out  cheap  partition  walls  but  

Barrett   responded   ‘‘The   smaller   spaces   are   actually   quite   good   –   this   is   where   it   gets   labyrinthine  

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 Steve  Tompkins,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive    Steve  Tompkins,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive   96  David  Jubb,  in  a  letter  to  Steve  Tompkins,  26.9.2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive   97  Tompkins,  S.,  Fuzzy  Logic  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007.  p.11   98  For  full  transcript  of  conversation  see  appendix  5   99 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   100  Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.9   101  Anna  Martin,  Recorded  conversation,  23.11.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,  p.6  
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here.’

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    For   the   show,   the   twists   of   the   corridor   were   exaggerated   into   a   maze   set   inside   a   doll-­‐

maker’s  workshop.    The  artist  is  allowed  to  reposition  and  define  the  space  and  the  architect  works   alongside  them  with  the  tools  to  realise  the  full  potential  of  the  building.    Tompkins  said       We   have   tried   to   imagine   an   architectural   proposal   not   as   a   stand   alone,   all   encompassing   design  that  artists  would  then  attempt  to  inhabit,  but  as  a  seamless,  ongoing  dialogue  with   the   building   that   originates   in   the   creative   perception  of  the  artists  themselves.    Our  aim  has   been   to   generate   a   new/old   composite   architectural   space   backwards   from   a   collectively   envisaged  performance  in  that  space,  to  look  at  the  architectural  design  process  through  the   ‘wrong’  end  of  the  telescope  as  it  were.   The   collectively   envisaged   performance   offers   a   complete   but   temporary   transformation   of   the   building,  and  when  the  implications  of  that  transformation  are  understood,  parts  of  the  project  are   selectively  retained.
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 This  is,  as  Tompkins  pointed  out,  a  backwards  process,  as  usually  the  architect  

will   define   the   performance   territory   which   the   artist   will   then   respond   to   (through   affirmation   or   denial)  in  their  work.         In   the   preliminary   report   on   the   building   Tompkins   pinpointed   ‘the   present   lack   of   building-­‐wide   technical   infrastructure   and   access   infrastructure’   as   one   of   the   main   hindrances   to   creating   a   ‘seamless  found  space  environment  for  site-­‐specific  work’.
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 For  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  BAC’s  

technical   team,   working   with   Punchdrunk’s   designers,   temporarily   upgraded   the   obsolete   technical   infrastructure   throughout   the   building   so   that   spaces   could   support   theatrical   lighting   and   sound   equipment.     This   gave   Haworth   Tompkins   the   opportunity   to   test   various   elements   of   the   technical   infrastructure  in  the  early  design  phases  of  the  capital  project,  ‘a  rare  luxury  that  is  seldom  achievable   in  more  orthodox  developments’.   There   was   one   further   noticeable   affect   in   adopting   a   collaborative   approach   to   the   building.     In   a   collaboration,  each  person  is  valued  for  their  individual  creative  input.  In  order  to  carry  out  some  of   the   work   necessary   to   make   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death,   permission   had   to   be   sought   from   English   Heritage   and   the   Wandsworth   Borough   Council’s   conservation   department.     Working   with   a   listed   building   to   a   ‘theatre   deadline’   (never   early   enough)   was   challenging.     However   Haworth   Tompkins   and   BAC   engaged   the   conservation   officers   in   thinking   about   how   Playgrounding’s   improvisational   and   collaborative   approach   would   relate   to   conservation.     As   the   alterations   for  The   Masque   of   the  
102 103

106

 

 Felix  Barrett,  Recorded  conversation,  23.11.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,,  p.6    Steve  Tompkins,  BAC’s  Playground  Projects:  Inventing  the  Future  of  Theatre,  2007,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,,  p.3   104  Steve  Tompkins,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive   105  Steve  Tompkins,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive   106  Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007.  p.11  

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Red   Death   were   mostly   temporary   the   project   served   to   build   a   relationship   with   the   conservation   officers   based   on   trust,   experimentation   and   mutual   love   of   the   building.   The   results   of   this   relationship   in   terms   of   BAC’s   conservation   strategy   will   be   discussed   in   greater   detail   below.     Secondly,   to   create   a   show   in   which   an   audience   of   two   hundred   and   fifty   could   wander   at   will   in   semi-­‐darkness  around  an  old  building  required  a  creative  approach  to  health  and  safety.  Rather  than   approaching  the  health  and  safety  and  fire  officers  as  law-­‐keepers  standing  in  the  way  of  what  they   wanted  to  achieve,  they  engaged  them  as  experts  who  could  help  the  creative  team  find  solutions  to   even  the  most  challenging  situations.    By  asking  those  people  to  think  creatively  about  the  building,   they   elicited   imaginative   responses.     One   reviewer   went   so   far   as   to   congratulate   the   health   and   safety  officer  working  on  the  show.    It  is  rare  for  a  ‘non-­‐creative’  member  of  a  team  to  get  mentioned   in  a  review,  but  it  is  unheard  of  for  a  health  and  safety  officer.    The  reviewer  was  impressed  by  how   risky  and  seemingly  dangerous  the  production  felt,  which  was  only  achieved  because  the  health  and   safety  of  the  show  had  become  an  art  form  in  and  of  itself.    

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Taking  Time     Time  is  one  of  the  essential  differences  between  theatre  and  architecture  processes.    It  has  already   been   touched   on   both   in   improvisation   and   collaboration.   Theatre   moves   very   quickly,   making   it   difficult  for  the  architect  to  pin  down  the  organisation’s  needs  at  any  given  moment.    Conversely,  for   people  working  in  theatre  it  can  feel  like  architecture  is  a  slow-­‐moving  beast  which  takes  months  to   respond  to  circumstances.    Tompkins  illustrated  the  difference  with  a  reference  to  a  Star  Trek  episode   in  which  half  the  crew  are  infected  with  a  virus  that  makes  them  move  very  slowly  through  time  and   the   other   half   very   quickly.     To   the   quick   half   it   appears   that   the   slow   half   are   not   moving   at   all,   whereas  to  the  slow  half  those  moving  quickly  have  become  a  blur.    Tompkins  sees  himself  standing   in  the  gap  between  theatre  and  architecture,  using  all  of  his  strength  to  pull  the  two  together.
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 That  

is   quite   a   standard   impression   of   the   relationship   between   theatre   and   architecture,   however   the   scratch   process   reverses   the   view.     It   is   based   on   the   assumption   that   it   takes   time   to   make   good   work.  That  does  not  mean  the  artist  perfects  one  piece  of  work  very  slowly,  it  proposes  that  a  piece  of   work  will  go  through  a  number  of  live  prototypes  before  reaching  its  final  form.  It  actually  means  that   the   piece   will   be   shared   with   a   live   audience   much   more   quickly   than   in   a   traditional   theatre   process,   which   would   see   the   company   spending   four   to   six   weeks   rehearsing   before   giving   a   public   performance.     In   scratch   the   artist   might   do   a   week   of   research   and   development   before   testing   in   front  of  a  live  audience  to  get  feedback.  However  as  a  whole  arc,  the  piece  will  develop  much  more   slowly.  In  the  traditional  model,  after  the  six  weeks  of  rehearsals  are  over,  the  cast  go  on  to  perform   the  show  for  a  matter  of  weeks  or  months  and  the  creative  team  move  onto  the  next  piece.  In  scratch   Jubb  cited  the  example  of  making  Jerry  Springer  the  Opera:  ‘There  can  be  several  months  from  one   scratch  stage  to  the  next  and  a  piece  of  work  can  take  up  to  three  years  to  create.    This  was  true  of   Jerry.’   When   he   became   artistic   director,   Jubb   moved   away   from   the   linear   process   of   the   ladder   of   development  and  towards  a  web-­‐like  structure  for  developing  work  that  felt  more  suited  to  the  idea   of   feedback   (fig.39).   Rather   than   climbing   from   one   rung   to   the   next,   an   artist   would   develop   work   in   a  number  of  different  contexts.      Punchdrunk’s  development  is  an  example  of  this:  a  ten  minute  piece   in   a   festival,   a   second   short   piece   followed   by   a   youth   theatre   project.     The   key   is   that   ideas   keep   resurfacing,   keep   circulating   and   coming   up   for   discussion,   working   their   way   into   scratch   nights   or   youth  theatre  projects.    Projects  would  evolve  organically  through  this  continuous  loop  of  developing,   sharing,  feedback  and  change.         When  it  came  to  working  with  an  architect,  BAC  did  not  want  Haworth  Tompkins  to  have  a  few  design   meetings,   disappear   and   then   return   with   a   full   set   of   plans.     They   would   never   commission   a   theatre  
107 108

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 Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  200    David  Jubb,  in  a  letter  to  Steve  Tompkins,  26.9.2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive  

th

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piece   like   that,   so   why   change   their   process   for   architecture?     They   were   only   prepared   to   invest   a   significant   amount   of   time   and   money   into   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   because   Punchdrunk   had   already  made  three  shows  at  BAC.    They  had  a  relationship  with  the  company  and  the  company  had  a   relationship  with  the  building.  BAC  were  looking  for  an  architect  prepared  to  commit  to  a  long-­‐term   relationship  with  the  building  to  develop  ideas  collaboratively  and  slowly.    

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‘Things  that  do  not  belong’  or  the  non-­‐theatre  theatre  space     In   his   letter   to   Tompkins   Jubb   referred   to   the   non-­‐theatre   origins   of   BAC’s   architecture   and   its   relationship   to   the   theatrical   activity   taking   place   there   as   ‘things   that   do   not   belong’.     Jubb   had   already  decided  that  BAC’s  success  was  due  in  part  to  its  use  of  the  town  hall  as  a  theatre  space.    Any   capital  intervention  would  have  to  explore  and  understand  that  relationship:       ‘When   something   doesn’t   entirely   belong   it   is   a   good   provocation   for   creativity…   I   have   an   instinct  that  this  will  be  about  looking  to  its  foundations  as  a  town  hall  rather  than  seeking   dramatic  conversion  as  a  theatre…We  will  end  up  with  one  of  the  most  exciting  arts  buildings   in   the   UK.     Not   because   it’s   shiny,   not   because   it’s   perfectly   organised,   not   because   it’s   a   tailor   made   theatre,   but   because   it   provides   an   adventure   for   artists   and   audiences,   because   it  reveals  itself  in  unexpected  ways,  because  you  can  lose  yourself  inside  it  and  because  you   feel  like  you  don’t  entirely  belong…  because  that  feels  like  an  exciting  place  to  be.’   Tompkins  wrote  that  it  was  due  to  lack  of  any  major  funds  to  invest  in  capital  works  that  BAC’s  impact   on   the   fabric   of   the   building   to   date   was   minimal,   ‘light-­‐footed   enough   not   to   dislodge   all   of   its   municipal   cobwebs.’
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  He   recognised   the   theatrical   potential   of   a   building   that   had   accrued  

alterations  and  furnishings  over  a  century,  without  ever  undergoing  a  comprehensive  redevelopment:   ‘1960’s   cloakrooms,   boarded-­‐up   fireplaces,   municipal   kitchens,   abandoned   subterranean   stores   –   has   remained   intact,   a   compelling   and   secret   world   that   members   of   the   public   rarely   glimpse   but   to   which   artists   are   almost   invariably   drawn.’
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  (fig.40-­‐41)     To   perform   a   complete   conversion   of   the  

town  hall  into  a  theatre  would  be  to  risk  the  very  thing  that  gave  the  building  its  theatrical  alchemy.   However  Tompkins  also  felt  that  through  the  piecemeal  conversion  of  the  space  into  an  arts  centre   ‘some   of   the   power   of   the   found   space   has   been   dissipated,   tamed   by   the   too-­‐familiar   signs   of   the   Cultural  Institution.’
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 Not  only  had  the  building  been  tamed,  but  the  potential  of  the  spaces  to  be  

discovered  and  used  by  artists  was  also  limited:  undeveloped  areas  of  the  building,  such  as  the  west   wing  attic  with  no  access,  the  rooms  filled  with  asbestos  or  the  damp  basements.    Tompkins  sought  to   strip   away   the   elements   that   ‘dissipated’   or   ‘tamed’   whilst   ‘tuning   the   spaces   to   performance   capability.’
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Preserving  a  sense  of  excitement  and  of  the  unknown  in  a  space  is  challenging.    It  tests  the  role  of  the   architect,   who   is   usually   brought   in   to   create   a     ‘perfectly   organised’   building   or   design   something   ‘tailor  made’.    Rarely  does  a  client  say  ‘this  doesn’t  work  perfectly,  but  that  works  for  us.’    However  
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 David  Jubb,  in  a  letter  to  Steve  Tompkins,  26.9.2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive    Steve  Tompkins,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive   111  Steve  Tompkins,  in  a  letter  to  David  Jubb,  September  2006,  Included  in  BAC  Board  Papers  2.10.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   archive   112  Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.9   113  Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.11  

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both  Jubb  and  Tompkins  recognised  that  what  might  be  perceived  as  problematic  in  a  normal  theatre,   was   the   very   thing   that   artists   were   gaining   traction   on.     The   less   than   perfect   rooms   and   services   were   pushing   artists   to   solve   problems   creatively,   and   making   them   feel   at   home.   It   is   finding   an   awkward   balance   between   enabling   a   space   and   over-­‐compensating   for   it.     As   with   the   creation   of   an   environment  for  a  child  to  play  in,  it  is  important  to  have  certain  elements  such  as  enough  room  to   run  around  and  sufficient  warmth,  but  it  is  equally  important  to  avoid  solving  every  problem  for  them.     There  should  be  enough  room  for  them  to  stretch  their  imaginations  and  find  their  own  solutions.         The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death  raised   lots   of   issues   about   the   building’s   functionality   and   in   seeking   to   solve   some   of   them   BAC   and   Haworth   Tompkins   had   to   determine   which   ones   would   increase   the   theatrical  capability  of  the  building,  without  over-­‐determining  it  for  future  use.    Punchdrunk  struggled   with   the   level   of   power   available   in   the   Grand   Hall.     They   couldn’t   light   the   space   and   heat   the   dressing   rooms   at   the   same   time   without   triggering   a   power   cut.     The   design   of   the   set   for   the   Grand   Hall  was  also  limited  by  the  size  of  the  access  doors:  double  swinging  doors  around  seven  feet  high.   Instead  of  making  any  changes  that  defined  what  kind  of  theatre  one  could  make  in  the  space  –  as   Levitt   Bernstein’s   design   to   install   a   particular   kind   of   seating   rake   might   have   –   BAC   and   Haworth   Tompkins  decided  to  solve  the  electrical  deficiency,  enlarge  the  doors  to  3.1m  and    make  an  opening   in   the   side   wall   to   allow   larger   sets   into   the   hall.     These   three   pieces   of   work   changed   the   performance   capability   of   the   space,   without   defining   the   kind   of   work   that   could   be   made   or   removing   the   sense   that   theatre   ‘does   not   belong’   in   the   Grand   Hall.     The   next   artist   to   make   work   in   the   space   is   given   the   opportunity   to   have   their   creativity   provoked   in   the   same   way   as   those   who   discovered  it  first.  

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A  building  that  needs  its  inhabitants     BAC   and   Punchdrunk’s   broad   aim   for   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   was   to   create   a   promenade   performance  environment  that  would  give  the  audience  as  much  freedom  as  possible  to  roam.  The   feeling   of   risk   was   fundamental   to   the   audience’s   experience   of   the   show.     However   achieving   this   ‘access   all   areas’   environment   posed   some   significant   organisational   challenges.   When   the   project   was  presented  at  a  staff  meeting,  Jubb  began  by  saying:     I’d   like   you   to   wear   the   hat   that   makes   you   want   to   work   in   the   performing   arts,   that   has   made  you  decide  not  to  work  in  the  health  service,  law  or  retail  industry.    I’d  like  you  to  wear   the  hat  that  makes  you  work  in  theatre.    This  is  because  the  idea  I  want  to  share  is…  about   what  I  think  is  next  for  theatre.   The  plans  for  the  project  involved  the  dissolution  of  the  traditional  frontier  between  front  of  house   and   back   of   house.     Jubb   knew   that   they   would   therefore   require   ‘a   seismic   shift   in   the   way   the   building   operates’.
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  Box   office,   ticket   collection,   managing   the   audience’s   entrance   into   the   show,  

care  of  the  audience  in  the  building,  fire  strategies,  access  to  services,  temperature  loads  across  the   building   and   access   for   the   visually   impaired   all   had   to   be   reconsidered.   Keeping   the   organisational   side   of   the   theatre   running   alongside   the   show   was   also   a   new   challenge.     All   the   permanent   staff   would  have  to  be  moved  and  Haworth  Tompkins’  first  practical  task  was  finding  new  locations  inside   the  building  for  the  administration,  technical  and  production  team  offices  in  order  to  free  up  valuable   performance   spaces.     An   out   of   use   social   services   kitchen   under   the   Grand   Hall   was   stripped   out   and   converted  into  the  production  office  (fig.42).    In  the  months  prior  to  the  set  build  a  large  quantity  of   asbestos   was   removed   from   across   the   building   to   meet   health   and   safety   requirements.     A   false   wall   was   inserted   into   the   gallery,   creating   a   small   library   on   one   side   and   the   artistic   director’s   and   administration  office  on  the  other  (fig.43).    If  any  member  of  staff  wanted  to  leave  the  building  after   the  show  went  up  at  seven,  they  had  to  be  wearing  a  mask  in  order  to  blend  in  with  the  rest  of  the   audience  as  they  made  their  way  through  the  world  of  the  show  to  the  nearest  exit.     The   ambitions   of   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   posed   major   challenges   to   building   operations.   The   building   functioned   on   the   regular   model,   running   three   contained   studio   spaces   but   in   order   to   overcome   the   health   and   safety   risks   posed   by   opening   up   areas   of   the   building   which   were   previously   inaccessible   to   the   public,   such   as   the   attic,   BAC’s   procedures   had   to   reviewed.     Punchdrunk  and  BAC  relied  on  a  small  army  of  volunteers  on  a  nightly  basis.    The  license  to  perform   was   granted   on   the   understanding   there   would   be   twenty   six   volunteers   inside   the   show,   placed   in   high  risk  areas,  trained  to  evacuate  the  building  in  case  of  a  fire.    This  meant  that  running  the  show  
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 David  Jubb,  personal  notes  for  staff  presentation,  June/July  2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive    Recorded  conversation,  23.11.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,  p.10  

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would  require  recruiting  and  managing  four  thousand  three  hundred  and  sixty  eight  volunteers  over   seven   months,   not   counting   the   one   hundred   design   volunteers   needed   to   help   build   the   set.   By   creating  an  environment  in  which  audiences  could  experience  ‘the  delicious  and  intrinsically  theatrical   sense   of   trespass   that   wandering   into   unseen   parts   of   the   building   engenders’
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  BAC   were   also  

creating   an   environment   that   relied   on   people.   During   the   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   the   building’s   operations   team   overcame   health   and   safety   risks,   time   constraints   and   staffing   challenges   with   a   small  army  of  volunteers.    Instead  of  progressing  towards  an  architecture  that  eliminated  man  power,   the  building  needed  its  occupants  more  than  ever  before.     The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   afforded   BAC   and   Haworth   Tompkins   the   opportunity   to   experiment   and  to  begin  to  understand  the  principles  of  the  scratch  process  in  an  architectural  context.    However   they  felt  as  though  they  were  entering  uncharted  waters,  so  they  began  searching  for  a  wider  context   for  Playgrounding  that  would  give  them  perspective  on  their  own  findings.    It  was  with  this  in  mind   that  the  artistic  directors  of  BAC  travelled  with  Steve  Tompkins  to  visit  a  theatre  in  Sao  Paulo.      

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 Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.9  

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3.2:    A  wider  context  for  Playgrounding:  Lina  Bo  Bardi  and  Teatro  Oficina       In   November   2007   when   Jubb,   Tompkins   and   Barrett   walked   around   BAC   to   discuss   potential   architectural  alterations  for  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  Jubb  mentioned  a  theatre  he  had  seen  on   a  trip  to  Brazil  in  November  2006  when  he  was  invited  by  the  British  Council  to  Sao  Paulo  to  take  part   in  Proximo  Ato,  a  national  theatre  conference.  One  night  he  went  to  Teatro  Oficina  to  see  The  Fight,  a   piece   of   work   by   Ze   Celso   (José   Celso   M.   Corrêa).   The   outside   of   the   theatre   was   unassuming,   run   down,  unusually  long  and  narrow  (figs.44-­‐45).    The  experience  he  shared  with  Tompkins  and  Barrett,   a  year  later,  was  about  empathy.         He  was  waiting  outside  for  his  ticket  when  the  doors  of  the  theatre  burst  open  and  the  cast  poured   out.   Forty   performers,   some   as   young   as   twelve,   followed   by   the   audience,   dressed   for   battle,   brandishing  guns  and  riding  canons  down  the  street.    A  man  started  shouting  at  Jubb  in  Portuguese.     Jubb  realised  he  was  telling  him  to  hold  onto  the  door,  which  had  flown  off  its  hinges  from  the  impact   of   the   mass   exodus.   Jubb   instantly   felt   involved:   ‘I   suddenly   felt   this   amazing   connection   to   the   building   –   this   extraordinary   experience   –   I   felt   so   part   of   it.     Partly   because   it   didn’t   work   –   partly   because  you  had  to  help  them  –  you  were  party  to  it.’
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 The  Fight  was  one  of  a  quintet  of  plays  about  

Brazil’s  transformation  from  a  dictatorship  to  a  republic.    The  performance  lasted  until  midnight.    Jubb   described  it  as  ‘sumptuous,  extraordinary,  mental  theatre,  like  being  transported  to  a  1970  happening   or  orgy  or  both.’
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     In  June  2008  Jubb  mentioned  Teatro  Oficina  again  in  a  design  team  meeting  at  

Haworth  Tompkins  Architects.      Some  research  had  established  that  the  architect  responsible  for  the   space  was  the  Italian  born  Lina  Bo  Bardi.    In  that  meeting  it  transpired  that  Bo  Bardi  was  an  important   inspiration   for   Tompkins'   practice   but   as   few   studies   of   Bo   Bardi’s   work   are   in   print   in   English,   and   Teatro  Oficina  is  a  lesser  known  building,  Tompkins'  had  not  connected  Jubb’s  story  about  visiting  the   theatre  with  her  work.    She  is  better  known  for  Sao  Paulo’s  Museum  of  Modern  Art  (MASP,  fig.46),   the  community  centre  SESC  Pompéia  (fig.47)  and  her  own  home,  The  Glasshouse.    The  British  Council   asked  Jubb  to  return  to  Proximo  Ato  in  November  2008.    A  trip  was  planned  that  would  combine  the   conference  with  a  return  visit  to  Teatro  Oficina  and  an  exploration  of  Bo  Bardi’s  work,  the  idea  being   that  if  the  space  was  powerful,  perhaps  there  were  lessons  to  be  learnt  from  it  that  could  be  applied   to   BAC’s   emerging   process.     The   story   behind   the   space   was   unexpected,   complex   and   exciting.     As   with  other  spaces  that  have  become  known  for  their  particular  potency,  the  story  has  built  up  layers   of  myth  which  make  it  complicated  to  separate  the  truth  from  the  aura.     The   company   Uzyna   Uzona   was   founded   in   1958   by   a   group   of   students   from   the   University   of   Sao   Paulo.  Teatro  Oficina  was  inaugurated  on  the  16  of  August  1961.  The  building  went  through  three   architectural  phases  and  as  it  stands  today  it  is  referred  to  as  Teatro  Oficina  4.  The  original  function  of  
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th

 David  Jubb,  Recorded  conversation,  23.11.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,  p.9-­‐10    David  Jubb  Email  from  davidj@bac.org.uk  to  staff@bac.org.uk,  November  2006    

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the  space  is  unknown,  although  the  symbol  for  Teatro  Oficina  (Workshop  theatre)  is  an  anvil,  which   may  indicate  the  building’s  previous  use.    The  building  that  the  company  moved  into  in  1961  was  a   converted   space,   built   by   Joaquim   Guedes,   a   well-­‐known   architect   famous   for   being   anti-­‐Niemeyer,   rejecting   formalism   and   working   on   projects   that   responded   to   the   needs   of   everyday   life.   The   unorthodox   shape   of   the   shell,   forty   two   metres   tall   by   eight   and   half   metres   wide,   led   to   the   nickname  ‘sandwich  theatre’.    Guedes  converted  the  unusually  high,  long  and  narrow  building  into  a   theatre   with   two   sets   of   bleachers   divided   by   a   wooden   platform   stage.   If   the   building   prior   to   conversion   was   Teatro   Oficina   1,   Guedes’   theatre   would   be   Teatro   Oficina   2.     The   company   moved   into  the  theatre  and  dedicated  themselves  to  the  ‘metaphoric  translation’  of  the  period  and  Teatro   Oficina  2  became  an  important  centre  of  the  artistic  vanguard  and  resistance  movement  during  the   period  of  military  dictatorship.    The  theatre  was  denied  a  license  and  shut  down  almost  immediately   after   opening   and   repeatedly   thereafter.   Between   1961   and   1966   they   staged   productions   of   Gorky’s   The  Enemies  and  Philistines,  ‘Tis  a  Pity  She’s  a  Whore,  Max  Frisch’s  Andorra,  each  one  ‘increasing  the   possibilities  of  the  sandwich  theatre’.
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   It  continued  to  reopen  but  in  1966,  after  ignoring  repeated  

threats,  it  was  burnt  to  the  ground  by  paramilitary  groups.         In   1967   a   partnership   to   reconstruct   the   building   was   proposed   with   Flavio   Império,   who   had   designed   a   set   using   the   full   height   of   the   space   for   a   production   of   Tenessee   Williams’   Streetcar   Named  Desire  directed  by  Augusto  Boal  in  1962  as  well  as  Andorra,  directed  by  Ze  Celso,  in  1965.    The   theatre  was  rebuilt  in  1967,  Teatro  Oficina  3,  and  in  1968  Império  designed  the  set  for  Galileo  Galilei   by   Brecht.     It   was   during   this   production   that   Celso   and   Império   ‘discovered   the   entire   space   as   a   performance  area  and  reclaimed  physical  contact  with  the  audience,  like  the  Carnival,  the  Candomblé   and  Umbanda:  the  invasion  and  return  of  the  pagan  Greek  chorus  to  the  theatre…’   The  following  year  Italian  born  Architect  Lina  Bo  Bardi  collaborated  with  Celso  for  the  first  time.  The   year  before  she  came  to  work  at  Teatro  Oficina,  Bo  Bardi  finished  building  MASP,  making  her  one  of   Brazil’s  most  distinguished  architects.    At  Teatro  Oficina  she  designed  a  production  of  Brecht’s  In  the   Jungle   of   the   Cities   (fig.48).     Bo   Bardi’s   designs   for   the   set   indicate   that   Império   had   constructed   a   theatre   space   in   traverse,   with   a   bank   of   audience   on   either   side.     During   their   first   collaboration   Celso   and   Bardi   began   to   explore   the   potential   of   the   space   beyond   this.   They   turned   the   central   platform  into  a  boxing  ring  which  they  ‘repeatedly  destroyed’,  in  order  to  excavate  the  foundations  of   the  theatre.
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     Bo  Bardi  arrived  at  Teatro  Oficina  to  work  in  an  interesting  set  of  circumstances:  an  

established  company  with  a  vision  for  a  particular  kind  of  theatre  (public,  political,  actively  engaged   with   its   audience),   a   company   of   actors   inhabiting   and   creating   in   a   space   long   before   the  

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 Cronologia  50  Anos,  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/bixigão,  13.2.2009,  p.3,  trans.  by  the  author.    Cronologia  50  Anos,  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/bixigão,  13.2.2009,  p.3,  trans.  by  the  author.    Cronologia  50  Anos,  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/bixigão,  13.2.2009,  p.4,  trans.  by  the  author.  

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involvement   of   an   architect,   and   that   space   being   unexpected:   a   conversion   rather   than   a   purpose   built  theatre.     1970   was   called   ‘the   year   of   silence’,   during   which   actors   from   Teatro   Oficina   and   two   other   companies  blockaded  themselves  inside  the  theatre  for  a  month  in  protest  against  the  dictatorship.     In   1971   The   Living   Theatre   troupe   arrived   in   Brazil   from   New   York   and   plans   were   made   for   a   collaboration  that  would  tour  South  America.    The  plans  never  come  to  fruition.    Instead  the  Oficina   company   toured   Brazil,   taking   their   popular   classical   repertoire   to   the   major   cities   and   the   more   subversive   work   to   the   Northern   part   of   the   country.     In   1972   Bo   Bardi   designed   one   further   production  for  Ze  Celso  of  Gracias  Señor  in  the  Teatro  Tereza  Rachel  in  Rio  de  Janeiro.    The  company   was  under  extreme  pressure,  financially,  personally  and  politically.  Then  on  the  21  of  April  1974  the   police  invaded  Teatro  Oficina,  opening  fire  on  the  occupants.    No  one  was  injured  but  Ze  Celso  was   arrested   and   tortured.     A   member   of   the   company   wrote   a   fake   telegram   demanding   his   release,   signing  it  from  Marlon  Brando,  Sartre,  Levy  Strauss,  Orson  Wells,  Fellini,  Sophia  Loren,  John  Lennon,   Elizabeth  Taylor,  Jane  Fonda,  Beckett,  Borges  and  Garcia  Marquez.    Astonishingly  the  military  released   Ze  Celso  in  response,  but  kept  him  under  surveillance.    Unable  to  make  work  in  Brazil,  the  company   left   and   travelled   to   a   self-­‐imposed   exile   in   Portugal,   where   they   worked   until   1979,   leaving   Teatro   Oficina  empty.     The   story,   or   myth,   of   the   Oficina   company   is   intimately   woven   into   Brazil’s   recent   history   and   the   building  reflects  the  talents  of  its  occupants:  it  is  a  storyteller.    The  company  returned  to  their  home   in   Sao   Paulo   after   the   fall   of   the   dictatorship   and   the   theatre   was   reopened   on   the   21   April   1979,   commemorating   both   the   public   hanging   of   Tiradentes,   a   leading   member   of   the   Brazilian   revolutionary   movement   against   the   Portuguese   in   1792,   and   the   theatre’s   own   greatest   day   of   political  terror  when  the  police  opened  fire  in  1974.    In  1982,  thirteen  years  after  she  first  worked  in   the  building,  it  was  decided  to  carry  out  Bo  Bardi’s  design  for  the  space.    When  these  designs  were   first   drawn   up,   whether   during   her   work   there   in   the   late   sixties,   during   the   company’s   exile   or   in   the   three   years   after   their   return   is   unclear.     However   in   1982   they   gutted   the   interior,   ripping   out   Império’s   stage   (described   as   ‘Italian’),   to   make   way   for   Bo   Bardi’s   project.     The   ‘conservatives’   in   the   Condephaat
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st st

 and  Iphan

 were  unhappy  that  Ze  Celso  and  Bo  Bardi  were  gutting  a  theatre  already  

threatened   by   property   speculation,   designed   by   an   important   architect,   in   a   quarter   of   Sao   Paulo   suffering  from  large  areas  of  dereliction.    The  project  took  a  decade  to  complete  but  shows  continued   to  be  made  in  the  space.    The  output  slowed  slightly  and  there  was  a  greater  focus  on  the  production   of   films,   but   the   chronology   indicates   that   the   building   works   did   not   entirely   impede   theatrical   activity.     Bo   Bardi’s   plans   for   the   theatre   were   much   larger   and   more   ambitious   than   what   was   finally  

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 Council  for  the  defence  of  cultural  heritage    Instituto  do  Patrimônio  Histórico  e  Artístico  Nacional  (National  Institute  of  historical  and  artistic  heritage)  

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completed  and  Teatro  Oficina  4  was  not  officially  ‘finished’  until  1993,  a  year  after  Bo  Bardi’s  death.     Ze  Celso  called  the  theatre  her  swan  song.       What   emerges   from   this   rough   outline   of   events   is   a   remarkable   approach   to   theatre   space,   with   two   defining  characteristics.    Firstly,  all  the  architects  who  worked  on  the  space  in  the  period  1967  to  1993   also   designed   for   productions   in   the   space   –   Flavio   Império   and   Bo   Bardi   both   designed   shows   before   making  any  major  changes  to  the  space  and  Edson  Elito,  who  worked  alongside  Bo  Bardi,  produced   films   with   Celso   for   three   productions   after   1980.     With   a   building   project   that   stretched   over   a   decade,   taking   place   alongside   the   business   of   making   theatre,   one   must   imagine   a   highly   developed,   integrated  relationship  between  Elito,  Bo  Bardi  and  Celso  and  between  the  demands  of  architecture   and   theatre.   Plans   for   the   new   theatre   space   indicate   the   level   at   which   this   dialogue   was   taking   place:  in  one  of  Bo  Bardi’s  sketches  a  raised  walkway  is  indicated,  marked  with  the  words  ‘Walkway.     Not  advised  by  the  architect.’  (fig.49)     Secondly,  the  uniquely  production-­‐focused  approach  to  the  space.    By  the  time  Teatro  Oficina  2  was   burnt   down   in   1966,   the   company   had   been   working   in   the   theatre   for   five   years   and   Ze   Celso   had   developed   a   form   of   theatre   particularly   for   that   space,   indicated   by   projects   such   as   Império   and   Boal’s  Streetcar  Named  Desire  using  ‘the  entire  height  of  the  space’.
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   In  writing  about  the  future  of  

Teatro   Oficina,   Ze   Celso   said   that   any   further   design   must   begin   in   the   same   way   as   Oficina   4   (Bo   Bardi’s)  and  all  the  preceding  Oficina  theatre  buildings:  ‘inspired  by  a  specific  dramaturgy,  that  is:  by   the  plays…’.
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 So  it  was  not  a  matter  of  an  architect  developing  a  theatre  design  based  on  received  

knowledge   of   theatre   architecture.     They   had   to   understand   the   way   theatre   was   made   in   that   particular   space.     There   is   an   enormous   amount   of   specificity   and   belief   in   the   significance   of   the   present   in   this   practice,   coupled   with   a   lack   of   preciousness   about   the   design:   respond   to   present   needs,  build  to  allow  change  later.    Celso  stated  that  a  design  ‘has  to  follow  the  expression  and  the   artistic  needs  of  the  production  forces’.   Bo   Bardi’s   design   is   so   simple   that   it   allows   for   great   complexity   in   staging.   The   new   space   incorporated  ‘the  yards  of  the  Candomblé,  the  parades  of  the  samba  schools,  the  light  of  the  sun,  the   city  and  the  technology  of  film,  sound  and  light.’
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   This  summarises  some  of  the  key  aspects  of  the  

design.   The   annual   celebrations   of   carnival   in   Brazil   are   led   by   the   cities’   samba   schools.     This   is   therefore  a  reference  to  a  space  of  parade  or  procession,  the  commonest  form  of  theatrical  activity  in   Brazil.     The   basic   layout   of   Teatro   Oficina   is   based   on   a   long,   wooden   promenade   sloping   from   the  

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 Cronologia  50  Anos,  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/bixigão,  13.2.2009,  p.2,  trans.  by  the  author.    Celso,  J.M.,  First  Untimely  Considerations  on  the  Creation  of  the  Anhangabaú  da  Feliz  Cidade,   http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/teatro_estadio,  11.10.2004,  p.2   126  Celso,  J.M.,  First  Untimely  Considerations  on  the  Creation  of  the  Anhangabaú  da  Feliz  Cidade,   http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/teatro_estadio,  11.10.2004,  p.2   127  http://www.teatroficina.com.br/plays,  trans.  by  the  author  

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front  doors  to  the  far  wall  (South  to  North).    This  sense  of  movement  through  the  space  is  important   and  is  always  recreated  when  the  Oficina  company  tours  away  from  their  own  space  (figs.50-­‐51).         Candomblé  is  an  Afro-­‐Brazilian  religion.    The  rituals  of  the  Candomblé  take  place  in  the  terreiro,  which   means  ‘sacred  site’.    However  terreiro  also  means  yard  or  public  square,  the  place  where  the  daily  life   of   the   community,   particularly   the   women   takes   place.     Houses   built   in   inland   Brazil   often   have   terreiros.    This  double  meaning  of  the  sacred  and  the  public,  shared  space  is  embodied  in  the  theatre.     Whilst   working   on   Oficina,   Bo   Bardi   was   also   building   SESC
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  Pompéia:   a   government-­‐funded  

community   recreation   centre   comprising   a   library,   a   canteen,   a   sporting   complex   and   a   theatre.   Bo   Bardi  converted  an  old  refrigerator  factory  and  built  two  concrete  towers  alongside  it  for  the  sports   complex.    The  space  outside  the  theatre  of  SESC  Pompéia  is  the  alleyway  between  two  sheds,  roofed   over   with   glass   tiles   to   create   a   foyer,   which   Bo   Bardi   also   referred   to   as   a   terreiro,   a   place   for   special   displays   (figs.52-­‐53).   This   foyer   space   has   another   similarity   with   Oficina:   it   is   designed   as   a   performance  space,  but  it  is  essentially  a  void,  which  is  referred  to  in  both  cases  as  the  Ágora.    Oswald   de   Andrade,   the   poet   whose   works   Ze   Celso   often   staged,   declared   through   the   character   of   the   Poet   in   his   1937   play   The   Dead:   ‘I’ll   live   in   the   Ágora.     I’ll   live   in   the   Social!   Released!   The   day   will   come   when   my   closed   abscess   will   open   itself   on   the   main   square!   I’ll   expose   myself   to   the   large   masses…’
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 The  Ágora  theatre  is  a  released  space,  ‘open  for  people  to  improvise  in’.

   Interestingly  

the  actual  theatre  space  at  SESC  Pompéia  (fig.54)  is,  according  to  its  manager,  not  very  successful  and   is  used  more  for  gigs  than  for  theatre.    Although  more  research  needs  to  be  done  into  SESC  and  Bo   Bardi’s   other   theatre   spaces,   this   demonstrates   that   it   was   not   her   alone   who   was   responsible   for   envisioning   a   space   of   ‘visceral   delight,   intelligent   playfulness   and   theatrical   subtlety’   at   Teatro   Oficina.
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   It  was  the  creative  dialogue  between  her  and  Ze  Celso,  the  theatre  maker.    Only  a  small  

part  of  Bo  Bardi’s  original  design  was  actually  built  in  the  decade  before  her  death.    The  theatre  was   meant   to   open   out   to   a   large   amphitheatre   behind,   making   what   is   now   the   main   auditorium   the   entrance   through   which   the   audience   and   cast   would   process   at   the   beginning   of   every   show.     Ze   Celso  is  now  raising  the  funds  to  continue  the  works  Bo  Bardi  began  which,  if  carried  out,  will  be  the   third  phase  of  a  project  stretching  over  as  many  decades.       Bolted  into  the  walls  either  side  of  the  promenade  is  a  simple  scaffolding  structure  which  holds  the   audience  either  side  and  the  dressing  rooms  and  tech  boxes  at  either  end  (fig.55).    The  walls  are  of   exposed  brick  and  untreated  concrete,  typically  tactile  materials  familiar  to  Bo  Bardi’s  work.    Half  of   one  of  the  walls  is  pierced  with  a  floor  to  ceiling  window,  allowing  in  sunlight  and  a  view  across  the   Bixiga   quarter   (fig.56).     A   simple   aluminium   roof   plate   slides   back   to   reveal   the   night   sky.     Trees   grow  
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 Social  Service  for  Commerce    Andrade,  O.,  The  Dead  1937,  quoted  by  Celso  J.M.  in  First  Untimely  Considerations  on  the  Creation  of  the  Anhangabaú  da   Feliz  Cidade,  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br/teatro_estadio,  11.10.2004,  p.2   130  Olivia  de  Oliveira,  Subtle  Substances.  The  Architecture  of  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Editorial  Gustavo  Gili,  Barcelona,  2006,  p.  210   131 th  Tompkins,  S.,  Theatres  Trust  Conference  Paper,  delivered  9  June  2009  

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up  the  inside  of  the  window  and  a  working  fountain  feeds  vines  climbing  up  the  brick  wall  opposite.   The   space   was   designed   to   support   modern   technology   in   such   a   way   that   it   could   be   constantly   updated.     Nothing   is   inlaid,   hidden   or   buried.     The   tech   box   itself   can   migrate   across   the   theatre   according  to  the  technical  demands  of  each  piece.     Teatro  Oficina  is  not  without  its  complications.  It  is  not  acoustically  sealed,  it  cannot  be  successfully   darkened   during   daylight   hours,   there   is   no   privacy   for   the   cast,   a   workshop   to   build   the   set   or   separate   rehearsal   rooms.     It   can   only   seat   400   people   and   the   sightlines   are   technically   terrible:   anyone  climbing  to  the  second  level  or  above  has  to  sit  on  the  edge  of  their  seat  and  hang  over  the   railings   to   look   at   the   tops   of   the   actor’s   heads.     All   the   main   actors   have   to   wear   or   carry   microphones  to  be  heard.  At  a  recent  Theatres  Trust  Conference  Steve  Tompkins  reflected  on  Teatro   Oficina:     [It]   breaks   nearly   every   rule   of   the   theatre   design   guide   and   would   never   survive   an   Arts   Council   review…   there   are   no   catering   facilities   apart   form   local   cafes,   because   the   public   ‘foyer’  is  under  the  flyover  across  the  road…  There  is  no  rehearsal  room,  no  conference  suite,   no  bookshop,  no  fly  tower,  none  of  the  things  that  we  have  come  to  regard  as  pre-­‐requisites   when  we  assemble  our  design  briefs.   The  theatre  poses  the  question:  does  any  of  this  matter  if  it  was  designed  by  and  for  the  artists  who   make  work  in  that  space?    It  generates  an  electrifying  atmosphere,  so  despite  the  seeming  discomfort   the   audiences   keep   coming   back   (figs.   57-­‐58).   And   they   stay   through   six   to   seven   hours   of   theatre,   something  a  velvet  chair  and  perfect  acoustics  rarely  lures  anyone  into.  Jubb  and  Tompkins  saw  the   parallels  to  be  drawn  between    the  history  of  this  building  and  their  own  process  at  BAC.    Tompkins   felt  that  the  building  offered  a  challenge  to  the  UK  architecture  industry  engaged  in  building  spaces   for  the  performing  arts:     This   will   mean   a   drastic   reappraisal   of   construction   techniques   and   materials,   as   well   as   different   audience   expectations   of   environmental   comfort.     It   also   means   more   time   spent   developing   briefs,   driving   down   revenue   costs   and   building   only   what   we   are   sure   is   essential.   Tompkins  acknowledged  that  after  visiting  Oficina  to  research  the  ideas  behind  Playgrounding,  seeing   the  results  of  a  comparable  process  meant  that  ‘we  have  been  braver  and  more  experimental  in  our   thinking  as  a  result.’
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  3.3:  Playgrounding  and  the  architectural  process       The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  afforded  BAC  and  Haworth  Tompkins  the  opportunity  to  develop  their   relationship   with   each   other   and   the   building,   establishing   the   principles   upon   which   they   would   work,  summarised  in  Tompkins’  description  of  Playgrounding:     To   slowly   transform   the   existing   building   over   many   years   through   an   organic   process   of   small-­‐scale   projects,   enlisting   the   traces   of   individual   production   designs   and   repeated   conversations  with  artists.    The  building  will  not  close  at  any  point  and  the  construction  work   will   be   regarded   in   exactly   the   same   way   as   a   series   of   long   performances,   with   statutory   officers  and  builders  treated  not  as  necessary  evils  but  as  creative  collaborators.   It   was   only   when   the   show   finished   and   the   next   phase   of   the   project   went   into   planning   that   the   relationship  between  those  principles  and  the  conventional  architectural  process  was  understood  in   more  detail.    Almost  all  Capital  work  undertaken  in  the  United  Kingdom  bases  its  design  and  delivery   process  on  the  Plan  of  Work,  published  by  the  Royal  Institute  of  British  Architects  [RIBA].  In  a  design   team   meeting   there   can   be   representatives   from   five   or   six   different   professions   as   well   as   the   client.     The   Plan   of   Work   becomes   a   multilingual   dictionary   that   keeps   everyone   on   the   same   page,   on   schedule   and,   technically,   it   keeps   everyone   safe.     Recent   studies   carried   out   on   the   design   and   delivery   of   buildings   for   the   performing   arts   however   indicate   that   the   Plan   of   Work   is   not   always   conducive  to  the  delivery  of  a  successful,  dynamic  environment.    This  study  will  conclude  by  looking  at   how   the   Plan   of   Work   may   be   failing   the   arts   client   and   how   Playgrounding   suggests   potential   alternatives  to  the  established  process.       Playgrounding’s   three   process   principles   could   all   be   summarised   in   one   word:   risk.     Each   one   encourages   risk-­‐taking   in   a   particular   way.   Improvisation   encourages   parties   to   set   out   without   knowing  exactly  how  the  project  will  end  and  gives  them  the  freedom  change  their  minds  along  the   way.   Collaboration   supports   shared   responsibility   for   a   project.   Placing   artists   at   the   heart   of   the   process   means   dissolving   the   architect’s   creative   control   over   the   project   and   increasing   the   unpredictability  of  the  results.    Taking  time  allows  for  a  much  longer  creative  period  and  encourages   beginning   a   project   without   defining   the   end.   Conversely   the   RIBA   Plan   of   Work   is   designed   to   minimise   risk   throughout   the   design   and   delivery   of   a   project.     The   possibilities   of   a   process   that   manages   risk   in   a   positive   way   will   be   looked   at   in   four   areas:   phasing,   conservation,   funding   and   liability.  
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Phasing     The   Plan   of   Work   was   devised   in   the   1950’s   and   first   published   in   1964.     It   formally   organises   the   principle  work  phases  of  a  capital  project  into  a  series  of  sequential  stages.    These  stages  apportion   work  to  the  various  parties  and  assign  responsibilities.    At  the  end  of  each  stage  there  is  a  formal  sign   off,  when  all  parties  agree  on  the  work  that  has  been  completed  and  decide  that  the  project  is  ready   to   progress   to   the   next   stage.     These   stages   run   from   Work   Stage   A   to   Work   Stage   L.     The   initial   concept  is  developed  at  stage  A  and  fixed  by  stages  C/D.    Stages  E  through  L  are  concerned  with  the   delivery  of  the  project,  from  detailed  drawings  through  to  practical  completion.  These  stages  set  out   ‘in  a  logical  fashion  the  activities  of  the  architect  normally  necessary  for  the  successful  completion  of   work…  the  related  activities  of  other  contributors  to  the  design  process  are  also  shown…  the  activity   schedules   cover   outputs   (tasks)   and   process.’
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  The   Commission   for   Architecture   and   the   Built  

Environment’s  [CABE]  recent  study  on  designing  and  delivering  buildings  for  the  performing  arts  notes   that  ‘the  construction  industry  and  its  attendant  designers,  engineers  and  consultants  work  within  a   tightly-­‐structured,   time-­‐driven   framework.     It   is   rigidly   sequential   and   there   are   penalties   built   into   the  system  for  disrupting  this  sequence.’
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 In  the  recent  study  Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  

the   Performing   Arts   [DeDEPA],   Professor   Alan   Short   and   colleagues   sought   to   ‘identify   factors   that   contribute   to   the   design   and   delivery     of   ‘better’   buildings   for   the   performing   arts,   buildings   where   the  original  creative  vision  has  survived  intact.’
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   One  of  the  key  themes  that  emerged  in  the  study  

was   the   ‘collision   between   the   notion   of   a   linearly   progressive   building   project   /   building   life   cycle   developing   over   several   years   (the   Plan   of   Work)   and   the   turbulence   of   a   theatre   company,   its   production  schedule,  personnel  and  the  evolving  nature  of  the  vision.’   In  order  to  address  this  collision  the  CABE  guide  for  clients  notes  that  ‘iteration  within  the  work  stages   is,   within   reason,   useful   and   desirable’.
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  However   it   recommends   formally   signing   off   the   end   of  

each   stage   to   avoid   lack   of   clarity.     This   does   not   therefore   address   the   key   issue,   which   is   the   relationship  between  the  stages  rather  than  the  process  within  each  stage.  The  sign  off  at  the  end  of   each   stage   is   designed   to   resolve   any   ambiguity   and   to   create   clear,   definite   moments   of   decision.     In   order  to  achieve  this  clarity  the  Plan  of  Work  has  developed  as  an  absolutely  linear  process.    Although   there   is   room   for   iteration   within   a   particular   stage,   the   over-­‐riding   aim   is   to   freeze   decisions   from   one  stage  to  the  next.  The  system  is  not  designed  to  support  change  between  one  stage  and  the  next,   particularly  between  the  design  and  delivery  of  a  project.    The  Plan  of  Work  notes  that  ‘a  significant   contribution  to  making  the  process  efficient  and  cost-­‐effective  can  be  achieved  if  client  and  designers  

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 The  Architect’s  Plan  of  Work,  RIBA  Enterprises,  1998,  page  1    Building  Excellence  in  the  arts:  a  guide  for  clients,  Commission  for  Architecture  and  the  Built  Environment,  2009,  Page  6   138  Short,  A.,  Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  the  Performing  Arts,  Theatres,  Issue9,  Autumn  2006,  p.10   139  Short,  A.,  Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  the  Performing  Arts,  Theatres,  Issue9,  Autumn  2006,  p.12   140  Building  Excellence  in  the  arts:  a  guide  for  clients,  Commission  for  Architecture  and  the  Built  Environment,  2009,  Page  6  

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agree   to   freeze   the   developed   Project   Brief   at   the   end   of   the   Detailed   Proposals   (stage   D).’ introduction  to  the  revised  edition  of  the  detailed  Plan  of  Work  (1998)  advises:      

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    The  

The  need  for  adaptation  or  expansion  of  the  model  to  suit  the  requirements  of  each  project   and  for  each  practice,  and  for  careful  monitoring  of  consequences  when  the  logical  sequence   of  events  is  disturbed  or  delayed,  cannot  be  over-­‐emphasised.   It   acknowledges   that   every   project   will   be   different,   that   unforeseen   circumstances   will   inevitably   affect  the  delivery  of  a  project  and  that  the  ‘Plan  of  Work  alone  should  not  become  a  ‘strait-­‐jacket’   imposing  inappropriate  discipline’
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,  but  it  advises  that  any  deviation  from  the  model  plan  has  the  

potential  to  become  a  disruption  or  delay,  which  in  turn  is  likely  to  add  significantly  to  the  cost  of  a   project.   The   closing   paragraph   of   the   introduction   to   the   Plan   of   Work   reiterates   the   need   for   regularity:     ‘It   cannot   be   over-­‐emphasized,   however,   that   the   greater   the   number   of   unplanned   departures  the  greater  the  risk  of  loss  of  control  and  abortive  work.’   The  Plan  of  Work  synthesises  the  output  of  each  contributor  to  a  project,  so  if  there  is  deviation  in   one  area,  it  could  negate  work  done  in  another.    As  The  Plan  of  Work  also  regulates,  at  arms  length,   the   funding   and   liability   of   a   project,   deviation   can   also   incur   risk   in   these   areas.     As   much   as   the   Plan   of  Work  purports  to  be  a  model  plan  or  guide,  in  effect  it  ties  every  contributor  into  a  standardised   linear  process  from  which  deviation  is  financially  or  legally  punitive.     BAC  balked  at  the  notion  of  signing  up  to  a  process  that  felt  like  an  anathema  to  their  own  practice,   lacking   the   dynamic   structure   inherent   in   scratch.   BAC   was   interested   in   developing   an   approach   comparative  to  scratch  that  legitimates  ‘the  evolving  nature  of  the  vision’  and  allows  for  the  ongoing   contribution   of   artists.   Christopher   Alexander,   author   Notes   on   the   Synthesis   of   Form,   looks   at   how   the  process  could  be  inspired  by  the  way  design  works  in  the  natural  world:       Things   that   are   good   have   a   certain   kind   of   structure.     You   can’t   get   that   structure   except   dynamically.    Period.    In  nature  you’ve  got  continuous  very-­‐small-­‐feedback-­‐loop  adaptation   going  on,  which  is  why  things  get  to  be  harmonious.    That’s  why  they  have  the  qualities  we   value.    If  it  wasn’t  for  the  time  dimension,  it  wouldn’t  happen.  
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 The  Architect’s  Plan  of  Work,  RIBA  Enterprises,  1998,  Work  Stage  Procedures    The  Architect’s  Plan  of  Work,  RIBA  Enterprises,  1998,  Introduction   143  The  Architect’s  Plan  of  Work,  RIBA  Enterprises,  1998,  Work  Stage  Procedures   144  The  Architect’s  Plan  of  Work,  RIBA  Enterprises,  1998,  Work  Stage  Procedures   145  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.21  

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Alexander   notes   that   ‘here   we   are   playing   the   major   role   in   creating   the   world,   and   we   haven’t   figured   this   out.   That   is   a   very   serious   matter.’
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    In   order   to   create   a   dynamic   process   Haworth  

Tompkins  and  BAC  decided  on  an  approach  that  divided  the  interventions  into  a  series  of  small-­‐scale   projects,   spread   over   a   longer   period   of   time.   Each   project   would   be   viewed   in   the   same   way   as   a   production,   developing   over   a   series   of   phases.     Tompkins   described   this   as   a   series   of   minor   operations  as  opposed  to  open  heart  surgery.    As  the  interventions  would  be  less  traumatic  for  the   building   it   would   mean   that   BAC   could   remain   open   throughout   the   works,   avoiding   the   atrophy   in   community   and   revenue   funding   that   occurs   in   larger   scale   projects.     Crucially   however,   by   dividing   the  interventions  into  a  series  of  smaller  projects,  Haworth  Tompkins  and  BAC  were  able  to  introduce   an  element  of  dynamic  adaptation  into  the  project.         Instead  of  creating  a  complete  detailed  design,  then  taking  every  element  of  the  design  through  the   delivery  stages  in  a  pre-­‐determined  order,  each  element  of  the  design  is  seen  as  its  own  project  that   goes   through   a   series   of   development   stages.     So   work   on   a   particular   area   of   the   building   or   a   particular  element  of  the  design  takes  place  repeatedly  over  the  course  of  the  entire  capital  project,   with  significant  time  lapses  in  between  each  period  of  work.    The  first  phase  is  seen  as  the  ‘scratch’   version   of   the   final   design,   implementing   some   of   the   more   temporary   elements   of   the   proposed   works   that   relate   to   the   surface   of   the   building.     New   ideas   or   lessons   learnt     from   the   first   phase   are   incorporated   into   the   next   one.     As   the   phases   progress   they   engage   with   the   more   permanent   or   embedded  elements  of  the  building  -­‐  the  structure  or  services.    One  phase  informs  the  next,  making   fundamental  changes  of  design  ideas  between  work  stages  possible.  Lessons  can  also  be  taken  from   an   individual   project   and   applied   to   another.     An   example   of   this   is   the   design   for   the   staff   offices.     Before   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   the   staff   offices   were   going   to   be   placed   at   the   heart   of   the   building.    Due  to  the  requirements  of  the  production  this  was  not  possible  and  the  production  office   was  moved  into  an  old  social  services  kitchen  on  the  lower  ground  floor  at  the  far  northern  end  of  the   building.    After  the  show  plans  for  all  staff  offices  were  revised  when  it  became  clear  that,  despite  the   best   of   design   intentions,   placing   them   at   the   heart   of   the   building   would   freeze   up   valuable   performance  space.    At  the  end  of  DeDEPA  Short  makes  a  number  of  key  recommendations:     ‘More   time   needs   to   be   spent   in   the   early   stages   developing   the   vision   and   exploring   its   implications…   expect   the   design   to   remain   fluid   later   in   the   Plan   of   Work:   iterations   are   good.’  
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 Alexander,  C.,  quoted  by  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,   p.21    Short,  A.,  Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  the  Performing  Arts,  Theatres,  Issue9,  Autumn  2006,  p.12  

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BAC  and  Haworth  Tompkins  would  take  this  one  step  further  by  establishing  a  permanent  feedback   loop  within  the  capital  project    that  stretched  the  design  phase  (usually  stages  A  through  C)  across  the   entire  project.       After   a   talk   given   in   August   2008   on   the   idea   of   introducing   an   iterative   feedback   loop   into   the   architectural   process,   one   audience   member,   a   software   developer,   responded   that   the   proposed   shift   in   process   resembled   that   made   in   software   design   two   decades   ago,   from   the   ‘waterfall   model’   to  ‘rapid  application  development  (RAD)’.      The  difference  between  these  two  models  demonstrates   succinctly   the   distinction   between   Playgrounding   and   the   Plan   of   Work.     The   waterfall   model   is   a   ‘sequential   software   development   process   in   which   progress   is   seen   as   flowing   steadily   downwards   through   the   phases…’   It   was   formed   before   any   formal   software   development   methods   existed,   so   the   structure   was   borrowed   from   the   construction   and   manufacturing   industries.   The   software   designer  proceeds  from  one  phase  to  the  next  sequentially,  only  moving  forwards  when  a  phase  has   been   completed   and   finalized.   The   waterfall   model   has   undergone   a   number   of   amendments,   including   ‘Big   Design   Up   Front’   which,   like   DeDEPA’s   recommendations,   encourages   investing   considerable  time  in  the  planning  phase  to  avoid  expensive  changes  thereafter.  It  was  however  found   to   be   impractical   as   it   imposed   on   software   a   model   made   for   ‘highly   structured   physical   environments   in   which   after-­‐the-­‐fact   changes   are   prohibitively   costly’.
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    It   was   argued   that   the  

waterfall  model  was  inherently  flawed  because  it  was  impossible  to  develop  one  phase  of  software  to   perfection   without   moving   on   and   learning   from   another   phase.     It   did   not   allow   for   the   fact   that   clients  may  not  know  exactly  what  they  need  from  the  beginning,  or  that  those  needs  might  change   during  the  delivery  stages.     In  Code  Complete,  Steve  McConnell  criticized  the  widespread  use  of  the  waterfall  model  by  referring   to  design  as  a  ‘wicked  problem’:  ‘a  problem  whose  requirements  and  limitations  cannot  be  entirely   known   before   completion.’
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    The   underlying   idea   behind   waterfall   or   Big   Design   Up   Front   is  

‘measure   twice,   cut   once’   but   this   foundation   quickly   crumbles   if   ‘the   problem   being   measured   is   constantly   changing   due   to   requirement   modifications   and   new   realizations   about   the   problem   itself.’
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 As  with  early  town  halls,  it  was  found  that  it  took  so  long  to  build  the  software  that  by  the  
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time   it   came   to   the   user   the   requirements   had   changed,   ‘resulting   in   inadequate   or   even   unusable   systems.’   Rapid   Application   Development   arose   in   the   1990’s   in   response   to   ‘non-­‐agile   processes’   based   on   the   waterfall  model.  It  is  based  on  iterative  development  and  the  construction  of  prototypes.    Speed  of   development   is   key   as   software   is   put   through   a   cycle   of   model,   prototype,   back   to   model   and   so  
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 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waterfall_model    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wicked_problem   150  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waterfall_model   151  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapid_application_development  

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forth.  In  this  way  prototyping  is  used  to  define  user’s  requirements  and  design  the  final  system.      RAD   demonstrates   many   of   the   same   pros   and   cons   as   Playgrounding.     The   short   phases   delay   the   final   design   significantly   and   although   the   incremental   approach   lowers   the   cost   of   changes   that   lack  of   up   front  detailed  design  is  likely  to  result  in  more  time  and  effort  spent  on  design  in  the  long  run.    RAD   promotes   a   collaborative   atmosphere   by   valuing   the   opinion   of   the   user,   actively   engaged   through   prototyping.     From   the   developer’s   point   of   view   this   breeds   dependency   on   a   cohesive   team   and   individual’s   commitment   to   the   project,   as   well   as   opening   the   project   to   all   of   the   difficulties   pertaining  to  communal  decision  making.    However,  like  Playgrounding,  it  levels  the  playing  field  for   the  inexperienced  client.    Some  expert  clients  may  know  exactly  what  they  need  and  how  to  express   that   in   the   right   language   for   the   architect   or   software   developer.     They   will   also   know   how   to   navigate   the   waterfall   model   or   the   Plan   of   Work   to   stay   actively   engaged   in   the   development   process,  but  the  process  does  not  encourage  this,  or  help  the  client  who  is  going  through  it  for  the   first   time.     Lastly,   since   the   process   is   iterative   and   incremental   it   can   lead   to   a   succession   of   prototypes   that   never   culminate   in   a   final   product.   The   same   happens   in   scratch:   the   Artist   Development  Officer  of  a  regional  theatre  recently  complained  of  artists  using  scratch  as  an  excuse  to   never  commit  to  a  finished  piece  of  work.     In   How   Buildings   Learn,   Brand   dissected   the   natural   feedback   relationship   between   different   elements  of  a  building.    He  divided  a  building  into  slow  and  rapid  components.    In  general  terms,  the   slow   component   dominates   the   rapid   one:   site   dominates   the   structure,   which   dominates   the   skin   etc.  The  architects  of  town  halls  grasped  this,  and  the  dangers  of  designing  a  building  that  would  be   obsolete  before  construction  finished.    They  built  a  permanent  foundation,  a  structure  that  could  be   added  to  without  damaging  the  overall  scheme,  and  allowed  for  flexible  interior  adaptation.  The  rapid   process   proposes   change,   providing   the   originality   and   the   challenges.     The   slow   process   disposes,   providing   continuity   and   constraint.   Over   time   however   a   building   will   naturally   integrate   the   propositions   of   the   rapid   processes   within   them.     As   with   any   building   with   a   new   function,   that   relationship  is  cranked  up  a  notch.  The  new  function  inevitably  becomes  a  rapid  process  challenging   the  architecture  to  adapt  to  its  needs:  trying  to  open  windows  that  don’t  work,  create  a  black  out  in  a   room  with  lots  of  natural  light,  reach  plugs  that  are  too  far  away,  fit  too  many  desks  into  one  office,   rehearse  in  a  room  that  isn’t  secure,  eat  too  far  away  from  a  sink  to  wash  up,  change  costumes  where   cues  cannot  be  heard,  warm  up  in  a  room  that  is  too  cold,  play  live  music  without  sound  proofing  so  it   disturbs   all   the   neighbours   and   so   on.   The   Levitt   Bernstein   plan   was   one   kind   of   response   to   those   challenges.    It  sought  to  eliminate  the  friction  between  function  and  architecture  by  providing  a  fit-­‐ for-­‐purpose   space   inside   the   original   building.     This   allows   other   spaces   to   be   used   flexibly,   but   essentially   freezes   the   relationship   between   theatre   and   architecture,   committing   the   architecture   and  core  function  to  one  type  of  dialogue.    

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Another  approach  is  to  form  a  merger  between  function  and  architecture,  putting  in  place  a  system  to   support   ongoing   dialogue.   In   his   first   meeting   with   Felix   Barrett,   Tompkins   suggested   applying   Nitromors  to  the  walls  to  create  a  peeling  effect  and  to  discover  the  stories  underneath.    When  you   begin   ‘to   merge   the   real   architecture   –   the   permanent   architecture   –   with   scenographics,   you   can   choose   what   is   authentic   and   what   is   not.’
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  Here   the   function   is   responding   to   the   architecture,  

rather  only  than  other  way  around.  BAC  and  Haworth  Tompkins  wanted  to  ensure  that  theatre  had  an   ongoing  engagement  in  the  capital  plans  by  placing  the  role  of  the  artist  at  the  heart  of  the  feedback   loop.  This  was  self  evident  in  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  when  the  artist  repositioned  the  space  as   a  ‘scratch’  and  design  ideas  responded  to  those  proposals.    It  is  not  that  straightforward  in  every  case.     The   diagram   below   is   based   on   specific   examples   of   works   carried   out   in   the   building   and   a   conversation   with   Jubb   about   analysing   the   different   ways   in   which   architectural   decisions   have   been   made:     Who  /What  Leads?     Shows     Other  organisational   ambitions   e.g.  Developing  a  ‘home’  for  artists   inside  BAC       This  breaks  down  the  work  carried  out  into  two  categories:  work  done  for  shows  and  work  done  to   fulfil   other   ambitions   of   the   organisation,   not   directly   linked   to   a   particular   show.     Each   of   these   categories  of  work  can  either  be  led  by  an  artist  or  by  the  space  team  (the  makeup  of  the  space  team   will   be   addressed   in   more   detail   below).     The   priorities   of   the   diagram   flow   left   to   right.   Work   related   to  shows  that  is  artist-­‐led  is  the  show  itself  .    Work  related  to  shows  but  led  by  the  space  team  are   ‘enabling’   jobs   such   as   opening   the   fireplace,   removing   asbestos   or   installing   new   offices   to   make   room  for  the  show.    Works  carried  out  to  improve  access  to  the  Grand  Hall  would  also  fall  into  this   category.     Other   organisational   ambitions   relate   to   areas   such   as   access   and   facilities.     As   much   as   possible   these   are   also   artist-­‐led,   such   as   the   first   phase   of   the   project   to   build   a   home   for   artists   inside  BAC,  which  was  led  by  a  Punchdrunk  designer.      Other  projects  that  are  likely  to  fall  into  this   category  are  the  conversion  of  the  attic  rooms  into  artist’s  offices,  the  creation  of  a  library  and  the   development  of  Town  Hall  Road.    The  last  category,  space  team  led  works  to  further  organisational   ambitions  should  make  up  the  smallest  part  of  works  carried  out.    They  should  also  not  be  the  first   e.g.  Re-­‐decorating  the  foyer  area   Artist   e.g.  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death   Space  Team     e.g.  New  production  offices  in  the  old   social  services  kitchens  

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 Steve  Tompkins,  Recorded  Conversation,  23.11.2006,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,  p.4  

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phase   of   a   project,   they   should   be   carried   out   in   response   to   an   artist-­‐led   phase.       There   are   two   examples   of   works   carried   out   after   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   that   demonstrate   this   follow   of   priorities  at  work.     Just  after  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  finished  Tompkins  walked  around  BAC,  when  the  building  was   in  the  turmoil  of  the  get  out.
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   He  pointed  out  the  markings  where  thousands  of  audience  members,  

taking  part  in  a  one-­‐on-­‐one  scene,  had  walked  across  the  floor  in  the  same  pattern.    He  described  this   as   ‘precious   presence’   which   should   be   considered   equal   to   the   value   of   the   fabric   of   the   building   itself.    Preserving  each  of  these  markings  heightens  the  theatrical  voltage  of  the  space,  adding  layers   of  ‘proven  theatrical  possibility’.
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 During  a  get  out  a  theatre  is  usually  returned  to  its  neutral  state,  

sometimes   referred   to   as   going   ‘back   to   black’.   BAC   had   arrived   at   a   temporary,   performance-­‐led   state:   some   of   the   changes   were   meant   to   be   selectively   retained   as   permanent   accretions   in   the   building,  some  were  meant  to  inspire  the  next  phase  of  the  design.    Returning  to  a  neutral  state  went   against  the  flow  of  the  project.    It  would  erase  the  proposals  made  by  the  show  and,  because  BAC  was   not   in   a   neutral   state   before   the   show,   it   would   mean   someone   on   the   design   team   would   have   to   define  ‘neutral’,  and  that  decision  would  over-­‐ride  choices  made  about  the  spaces  by  artists.      Some   decisions   were   straightforward.   There   were   architectural   changes   that   formed   part   of   the   legacy   of   the   show:   the   restored   fire   place,   asbestos-­‐free   rooms   and   a   new   production   office.     However   the   vast   majority   of   the   changes   were   only   skin   deep:   the   technical   infrastructure,   the   paintwork,   the   props   and   furnishings.     Once   Punchdrunk   had   removed   most   of   the   props   and   furnishings,   what   would  remain  as  trace?    What  was  precious?    And  what  should  be  the  catalyst  for  further  change?.       It  was  decided  that  as  much  as  possible,  surface  elements  of  the  production  should  be  retained.  Three   of  Punchdrunk’s  designers,  Beatrice  Minns  and  Olivia  Vaughn,  (Heads  of  Props  and  Detail)  and  Helen   Goddard   (Head   of   Paint)   stayed   on   as   part   of   BAC’s   in-­‐house   team   to   oversee   the   re-­‐conversion.     Rooms  that  had  been  repainted  for  the  show  kept  their  new  colour  (figs.59-­‐60).  It  was  decided  that   further   change   should   only   take   place   if   it   was   driven   by   artistic   intent.     This   approach   could   be   summarised  as  resisting  the  temptation  to  ‘touch  up’  a  space  and  leaving  artists  to  their  own  creative   devices,  whilst  keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  their  tendency  to  want  to  want  to  erase  other’s  work,  having   been  inspired  or  provoked  by  it,  simply  out  of  a  desire  to  control  the  environment.       Jubb  cites  a  project  in  which  this  value  matrix  for  making  architectural  decisions  was  ignored.    After   the  get  out  some  of  the  first  floor  spaces  underwent  a  makeover  in  order  to  increase  their  potential   income  from  events.    The  floors  were  sanded  and  the  walls  patched  and  repainted  matt  greys,  whites  

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 ‘Get  out’  is  a  term  used  to  describe  the  stripping  back  of  a  theatre  after  a  show  has  finished,  usually  involving  the  removal  of   the  set,  the  lights  and  often  repainting  the  space..    Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.9  

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and  teals.  Some  of  the  details  left  behind  by  the  Punchdrunk  design  team  were  removed.    Later  Jubb   reflected:     The   central   problem   with   the   First   Floor   project   is   that   we   didn’t   put   an   artist   in   charge.   Artists   tend   to   be   interested   in   story,   in   what’s   authentic   and   therefore   in   my   experience   they   have   always   celebrated   what   is   already   there…   my   favourite   artists   are   ones   that   are   not  scared  of  what’s  already  present,  of  what  the  space  used  to  be,  of  the  hybrid  potential  of   their   own   work   and   the   space   as   it   stands.   On   the   First   Floor   project   we   were   neither   employing  artists  nor  using  the  architect  as  artist  (Steve  wasn’t  involved  in  the  project)  and  it   led  to  the  voltage  (as  Steve  calls  it)  of  the  space  being  turned  down.  Mistake.   The   project   demonstrated   that   the   different   delivery   strands   within   BAC   (events,   theatre,   participate)   could  have  conflicting  demands  on  a  space.    Each  organisation  has  to  develop  their  own  value  system   for  making  these  decisions.    In  the  case  of  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  BAC  was  prepared  to  bear   the   financial   impact   of   the   Grand   Hall   being   out   of   use   for   events   for   seven   months.     For   the   First   Floor   project,   Jubb   later   realised   that   he   should   have   prioritised   the   artists   making   work   in   those   spaces  and  what  would  provide  the  most  stimulating  environment  for  them  over  the  potential  income   from  events.         The  qualities  that  the  spaces  gained  through  prioritising  the  lead  of  artists  through  a  phased  approach   to   works,   were   a   sense   of   past   presence   in   the   layers   and   of   ongoing   evolution     -­‐   an   unfinished   quality.    This  is  described  by  Brian  Eno,  quoted  by  Stewart  Brand:       We  are  convinced  by  things  that  show  internal  complexity,  that  show  traces  of  an  interesting   evolution.     Those   signs   tell   us   that   we   might   be   rewarded   if   we   accord   it   our   trust.     An   important   aspect   of   design   is   the   degree   to   which   the   object   involves   you   in   its   own   completion.    Some  work  invites  you  into  itself  by  not  offering  a  finished,  glossy,  one-­‐reading-­‐ only  surface.   Both  Tompkins  and  Jubb  had  cited,  in  the  first  letters  they  wrote  to  each  other,  the  kind  of  project   they   wanted   to   avoid:   ‘the   classic   Lottery   project   model’   that   has   led   to   ‘numerous   examples…   of   slick,   photogenic   makeovers   of   historic   buildings   that   nevertheless   block   creative   energy   as   places   for   making  art.’
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   These  spaces  offer  a  ‘finished’  surface,  leaving  the  artist  little  to  play  with.  In  a  lecture  

published   in   Performance   Research   (2005)   Tompkins   spoke   of   the   architect’s   tendency   to   resolve   everything:   ‘We   architects   have   failed   to   comprehend   the   territory   of   performance,   offering  
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David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009    Brian  Eno,  quoted  by  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,   p.11   157  Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.25  

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positivistic,   technology-­‐led   reactions   to   perceived   problems   that   may   not   in   fact   have   needed   solving.’
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   The  ‘perceived  problems’  that  Tompkins  describes  often  lie  in  the  indeterminacy  of  the  

building   or   in   the   case   of   BAC,   the   things   that   don’t   belong.     But   it   is   often   upon   these   rough   surfaces   that   the   artistic   imagination   gains   traction.     The   inspiration   occurs   in   the   gap   between   the   original   space  and  its  new  function  –  that  is  the  liminal  space  which  should  belong  to  artists.    That  is  where   the  artist  finds  freedom  and  a  sense  of  ownership  over  a  space.    If  that  space  is  commandeered  by   architecture,   there   is   the   risk   that   without   its   indeterminacy,   the   theatrical   potential   will   be   neutralised.    Jubb  described  an  artist’s  reaction  to  a  newly  refurbished  space  in  which  the  architecture   has   been   allowed   to   seep   into   every   crack   or   lull:   “what   [did   this   cost],   fifty   or   sixty   production   budgets?   And   for   what?   All   you   have   actually   done   is   make   it   more   difficult   to   make   a   piece   of   work.’”   When   architecture   is   allowed   to   govern   a     performance   space,   a   number   of   distortions   can   occur.     Firstly,   the   self-­‐effacing,   negative   space   or   ‘blank   canvas’.   Although   this   solution   offers   flexibility   (insofar   as   the   technical   capabilities   of   the   space   will   allow),   the   drawback   for   any   organisation   engaged   in   developing   new   work   is   that   the   ‘blank   canvas’   can   often   result   in   an   equally   bland   response   from   the   emerging   artist.     Paradoxically,   the   perfectly   designed   blank   canvas   has   no   indeterminacy.     At   the   other   end   of   the   scale,   the   ‘magazine   architecture’
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  of   design-­‐dominated  
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spaces   that   don’t   necessarily   function   as   performance   spaces,   sacrificing   ‘geometry’,   ‘atmosphere’

 

or   sometimes   both   in   favour   of   the   concept   design.   Both   the   statement   architecture   and   the   blank   canvas  present  the  same  problematic  assumption:  that  a  building  should  be  ‘finished’.         The  desire  on  the  part  of  the  architect  to  present  a  perfect  totality  defies  the  essence  of  the  history  of   most   buildings:   those   that   have   survived   tell   stories   of   layers   and   accumulation.     ‘The   race   for   finality   undermines  the  whole  process.  In  reality,  finishing  is  never  finished,  but  the  building  is  designed  and   constructed  with  fiendish  thoroughness  to  deny  that.’
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   This  becomes  a  question  of  the  approach  to  

time   and,   returning   to   the   comparison   between   the   timescales   of   theatre   and   architecture,   it   is   possible   to   see   that   a   focus   on   process   and   long   term   effect   both   in   scratch   and   Playgorunding   reverses  the  prevailing  view.    Barrett  worked  at  BAC  for  two  years  before  developing  a  project  that   changed  the  top  few  millimeters  of  the  building’s  skin  for  seven  months.    In  a  capital  redevelopment   project  the  architect  will  sometimes  engage  with  a  building  for  a  matter  of  months  during  the  design   phase  before  committing  to  works  that  will  alter  the  building  forever.    Financial  imperatives  and  fear   of  being  sued  for  mistakes  drive  the  architect  onto  the  next  project,  but  ‘the  sins  of  the  architect  are  
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 Steve  Tompkins,  Theatre  Notes,  Paper  delivered  at  Civic  Centre  Conference,  London  2004,  Published  in  Performance   Research  2005,  p.1   159  Davud  Jubb,  Recorded  conversation,  23.11.2006,  BAC  archive,  p.5   160  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  Chapter  5   161  Timothy  West  described  ‘geometry  and  atmosphere’  as  the  key  theatrical  attributes  of  a  space  to  Prof.  Alan  Short,  quoted  in   Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  the  Performing  Arts,  Theatres,  Issue  9,  Autumn  2006,  p.12   162  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.64  

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permanent   sins.’

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    In   reality,   it   is   architecture   that   makes   far-­‐reaching   decisions   exceptionally  

quickly   and   theatre   that   spends   months   and   even   years   preparing   for   a   moment   that   will   live   and   die   almost   simultaneously.     Theatre   may   create   and   destroy   complete   world   visions   in   a   matter   of   moments,   but   architecture   preserves   a   comparatively   static   moment   of   creativity   for   decades,   sometimes  centuries.    It  is  what  Frank  Duffy,  of  DEGW,  called  ‘an  aesthetic  of  timelessness,  which  is   sterile.’     He   asks   us   to   consider   ‘What   would   an   aesthetic   based   on   the   inevitability   of   transience   actually  look  like?   A   comparison   was   made   by   Tompkins   in   his   lecture   at   the   Theatres   Trust   conference   on   Experiencing   Theatres,     between   the   work   of   Lina   Bo   Bardi   at   Teatro   Oficina,   and   the   auditorium   of   the   Latin   American  Memorial  campus  by  Oscar  Niemeyer:     Now   sadly   underused  and   reportedly  expensive  to  maintain,  the  building  felt  like  an  exotic   dinosaur,   fossilized   in   a   moment   of   history,   unable   to   adapt   to   changing   circumstances.     Because   it   failed   to   connect   the   gaps   between   civic   ambition,   architectural   single-­‐ mindedness,  theatrical  adaptability  and  human  nature,  it  now  looks  iconic  for  all  the  wrong   reasons.   Jubb  also  draws  a  comparison  between  these  two  buildings:     I   would   argue   that   pure,   often   iconic,   singular   visions   can   lead   to   extraordinary   pieces   of   art,   to   stunning   buildings,   that   are   often   also   quite   dysfunctional.   And   that   more   collaborative   processes  that  are  “tuned  in”  to  the  desires  of  the  people  that  will  use  the  building  lead  to   buildings  that  can  also  be  great  pieces  of  art  but  that  also  function.  A  trip  to  Sao  Paulo  to  see   the  work  on  Niemeyer  versus  Lina  Bo  Bardi  is  testament  to  this.     Playgrounding’s   approach   to   phasing   can   be   summarised   in   two   key   decisions:   establishing   a   timetable  that  allowed  for  ‘small  feedback-­‐loop-­‐adaptation’  to  take  place  and,  within  that  timetable,   prioritising  the  role  of  artists  in  order  to  ensure  that  architectural  decisions  leave  room  for  users  to   determine   the   space.     This   does   not   mean   designing   for   flexibility,   which   many   architects   and   theatre   makers  have  learnt  is  a  mirage  which  in  itself  can  be  extremely  complex  and  therefore  fixed,  it  means   designing   for   change.     It   is   a   lesson   that   it   would   seem   the   architectural   profession   has   unlearnt.     The   Victorians   understood   change   in   a   way   that   we   do   not:   the   town   hall   was   constructed   with   an   incredibly  loose  relationship  between  the  skin  and  the  structure,  allowing  for  the  addition  of  floors,  
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 Frank  Lloyd  Wright,  quoted  by  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London   1997,  p.66   164  Duffy,  F.,  quoted  by  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.  71   165 th  Tompkins,  S.,  Theatres  Trust  Conference  Paper,  delivered  9  June  2009  

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staircases,   mezzanines,   walls   and   doors.     The   only   constant   in   the   town   hall   was   change   itself.     Stewart  Brand  describes  this  as  ‘the  low  road’,  using  Building  20  at  MIT  as  the  example:       ‘Like  most  Low  Road  Buildings,  Building  20  was  too  hot  in  the  summer,  too  cold  in  the  winter,  Spartan   in   its   amenities,   often   dirty   and   implacably   ugly.     Whatever   was   the   attraction?...   “The   ability   to   personalize  your  space  and  shape  it  to  various  purposes.    If  you  don’t  like  a  wall,  just  stick  your  elbow   through  it…  if  you  want  to  bore  a  hole  in  the  floor  to  get  a  little  extra  vertical  space,  you  do  it.    You   don’t  ask.    It’s  the  best  experimental  environment  ever  built…we  feel  the  space  is  really  ours.”’   This  is  a  near  accurate  description  of  BAC  and  the  way  artists  and  staff  feel  about  the  building.    The   low   road   building   gives   the   artist   ownership   over   the   space   partly   because   they   can   do   almost   whatever  they  want  and  partly  because  they  are  often  cheap  or  free  to  use  because  they  are  either   architecturally   unappealing,   or   in   the   case   of   BAC,   large   and   situated   far   enough   outside   the   town   centre.     Morris   said   that   as   long   as   there   is   free   space   and   free   beer   on   offer,   attracting   an   artistic   community  is  not  complicated.
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 Although  BAC  was  built  for  a  specific  purpose,  its  makers  were  alive  

to   change   because   the   world   was   accelerating   at   an   unprecedented   rate.     Today   we   live   in   a   world   s o   dominated   by   fast-­‐paced   change   that   we   design,   with   little   concern   for   an   unpredictable   future,   buildings   that   refuse   to   adapt   to   alternative   uses.   Tearing   down   and   starting   over   has   not   been   considered   a   major   financial   or   environmental   problem   until   now.   Brand   argues   that   low   road   buildings   have   staying   power   because   they   are   not   over-­‐specified.     ‘Grand,   final-­‐solution   buildings   obsolesce    because  they  were  too  over  specified  to  their  original  purpose  to  adapt  easily  to  anything   else.’
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 However  BAC  has  one  feature  that  does  not  fit  into  the  low  road  building  category.    As  grade  

II*  listed,  BAC  had  to  square  the  desire  for  freedom  and  adaptability  with  a  responsible  approach  to   conservation.    

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 Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.28   th  Tom  Morris.,  in  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009    Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.28  

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Conservation     This   level   of   dialogue   between   the   function   (theatre)   and   the   architecture   proposes   an   unconventional   approach   to   history   and   the   accretions   of   time.     Merging   scenography   and   real   architecture  so  that  you  can  decide  what  is  real  and  what  is  not,  as  Tompkins  suggested,  challenges   notions  of  conservation.  Theatre,  in  its  transience,  throws  doubt  on  the  permanence  of  architecture:   what   we   assume   to   be   ‘authentic’   in   a   building   (or   permanent)   comes   into   question.     Also,   the   fact   that   BAC   ‘does   not   belong’   in   the   town   hall   alters   the   relationship   between   the   fabric   and   the   function.    Unlike  a  building  still  fulfilling  its  original  purpose,  there  is  an  underlying  rupture  between   the  architecture  and  function  which  complicates  decisions  about  the  conservation  of  the  fabric.    BAC   was  listed  as  a  Grade  II*  town  hall,  not  a  Grade  II*  theatre.    Although  it  has  not  always  been  the  case,   English  Heritage  now  recognise  that  supporting  a  building’s  cultural  use  is  a  fundamental  part  of  the   conservation  of  the  fabric  –  a  building’s  use  is  acknowledged  as  part  its  ongoing  survival.       Tompkins  suggests  that  there  is  an  ‘uninterrogated  assumption  that  the  architect  will  do  something   which  is  kind  of  slippery  and  so  called  contemporary,  offered  in  radical  juxtaposition  to  something   which  is  old,  therefore  implicitly  obsolete  or  no  longer  potent’      Instead  he  senses  ‘the  accretion  of   cultural  raw  materials  and  memory,  which  is  precious,  which  is  the  thing  to  be  extrapolated  and   treasured  and  somehow  commandeered  for  artists  to  engage  with.’
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   Having  a  past  narrative  is  the  
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‘gift’  of  redeveloping  old  buildings.      The  challenge  is  not  to  simply  ‘bracket’  the  history  of  the  building   as  ‘redundant  material  or  simply  an  aesthetic  prop  to  your  own  new  invention’ ,  something  which  

the  Levitt  Bernstein  Plans  might  have  done.  What  Tompkins  proposal  like  in  practice  and  whether  he   has  achieved  this  in  the  redevelopment  of  historical  venues  such  as  the  Royal  Court  is  open  to   speculation.     As  BAC  and  Haworth  Tompkins  planned  to  divide  the  work  into  a  series  of  smaller  stages  they  had  to   think  about  how  this  process  would  work  for  English  Heritage.    They  decided  to  pro-­‐actively  produce  a   Conservation   Management   Plan   that   outlined   a   strategy   for   the   future,   describing   how   they   intended   to  engage  with  the  building  over  the  course  of  a  decade.  Conservation  Management  Plans  are  often   used  at  complex  sites  as  ‘an  informal  memorandum  of  understanding  between  owners,  managers  and   English   Heritage.’
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    They   exist   to   streamline   the   decision-­‐   making   process   by   outlining   types   of  

works  that  require  listed  building  consent.    Although  they  have  no  statutory  basis,  they  are  a  mutual   agreement  between  the  owner  and  English  Heritage  –  a  statement  of  intent.  Writing  a  Conservation   Management   Plan   was   part   of   ‘winning   the   overall,   philosophical,   strategic   battle   of   intent,   of  

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 Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009   th  Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009   171  www.heritagelink.org.uk/docs/HPR_update_HPAs.doc,  accessed  on  15.08.2009  

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ideas.’

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  After   reading   the   initial   draft   of   the   plan,   touring   the   building   to   assess   the   sensitivity  

analysis  drawings  and  discussing  the  impact  of  Playgrounding  on  conservation  issues,  English  Heritage   suggested   BAC   should   be   put   forward   for   the   Heritage   Partnership   Agreement   pilot   programme.     Playgrounding’s   decision   to   phase   all   the   works   over   a   longer   period   of   time   would   usually   mean   a   large   number   of   low-­‐level   Listed   Building   Consent   Applications.     An   ‘HPA’   would   formalise   the   understanding   of   the   Conservation   Management   Plan,   giving   BAC   the   freedom   to   pursue   their   capital   plans  within  pre-­‐agreed  boundaries,  as  defined  by  the  sensitivity  analysis  drawings.    These  drawings   evaluate  the  architectural  sensitivity  of  each  area  of  the  building  by  colour  coding  (fig.61).    The  colour   coding  translates  into  an  agreement:  green  areas  can  be  altered  without  Listed  Building  Consent,  red   areas   will   require   it,   blue   areas   will   depend   on   the   type   of   works.   English   Heritage   felt   that   BAC’s   intent   towards   the   building,   through   Playgrounding,   was   to   progress   with   the   utmost   care   and   sensitivity   towards   the   integrity   of   the   architectural   fabric.     Although   it   wanted   freedom   to   ‘mess   around’,  it  had  formed  a  collaborative  relationship  with  the  fabric.    It  did  not  want  to  impose  the  new   function   onto   the   architecture,   it   wanted   to   merge   with   it.     To   date   the   Conservation   Management   Plan  remains  the  key  document  defining  the  relationship  with  English  Heritage  as  further  funding  is   being  sought  to  set  up  an  HPA  pilot  at  BAC.  

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 Steve  Tompkins,  notes  taken  by  the  author  in  a  design  team  meeting,  1.04.2008  

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Funding     The  Plan  of  Work  was  written  to  regulate  the  design  process.    It  now  also  regulates,  at  arms  length,   funding  procedures.    Major  funding  bodies  usually  require  a  project  to  reach  a  minimum  of  stage  C   (outline   design)   to   begin   conversations   and   stage   D   (detailed   design)   as   a   gateway   for   securing   funds.     Stages  A  (appraisal),  B  (briefing)  and  C  are  therefore  funded  by  the  client  up  front.  One  of  the  major   challenges   arts   organisations   face   in   beginning   a   successful   capital   project   is   therefore   adequately   funding  the  early  design  phases.     Arts  organisations  tend  to  operate  on  minimal  revenues  and  often  struggle  with  cash  flowing  the  early   stages   of   a   project.  Architecture  and  theatre   operate   on   very  different  scales   financially   and   it   can   be   painful  for  an  organisation  to  watch  an  entire  show’s  budget  evaporate  in  an  afternoon  of  discussions   around  a  table.  Stages  A  through  C  are  therefore  frequently  rushed  in  order  to  arrive  in  the  position   to   secure   the   larger   grants   necessary   to   fund   capital   works.     Lack   of   ready   funds,   coupled   with   the   inevitable   inexperience   of   the   client   can   lead   to   a   design   that   has   possibly   not   been   thoroughly   examined   before   being   finalised.     It   can   also   mean,   as   Prof.   Short   has   pointed   out,   that   arts   organisations  fail  to  hire  the  necessary  specialist  consultants  until  after  the  design  and  budgets  have   been  fixed.     The  DeDEPA  study  looked  in  particular  at  the  consequences  of  value  engineering  on  projects  in  which   the   design   and   budget   were   fixed   from   an   early   stage,   before   specialist   consultants   could   be   hired:     ‘Given   the   complexity   of   theatre   design   and   equipment,   projected   costs   can   therefore   rise   significantly   as   consultants   work   with   the   architect   to   make   a   viable   design.’
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    Value   engineering  

sessions   are   then   necessary   to   scale   back   the   project   to   meet   the   original   budget   parameters.     The   study   noted   how   this   process   often   resulted   in   the   ‘loss   of   original   vision.’
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    Funders   should  

therefore   be   encouraged   to   invest   in   process,   the   ideas   phase   of   a   project,   before   an   outcome   has   been  established.    But  process  is  intangible  and  if  the  architect  and  client  are  clear  sighted,  the  best   result   of   the   design   process   might   be   no   architecture.     Architecture   may   not   be   the   answer   to   that   organisation’s   problems,   but   ‘no   architecture’   is   not   a   particularly   attractive   prospect   for   a   funder.   Recent  discussions  at  the  Arts  Council  have  questioned  the  wisdom  of  having  a  ‘Capital  Strategy’,  as   this   has   the   potential   to   encourage   organisations   to   apply   for   grants   to   carry   out   works   that   have   not   developed  organically  through  their  use  of  the  building,  or  to  skew  the  scope  or  focus  of  those  plans   (as  with  the  Levitt  Bernstein  application).    It  is  possible  to  suggest  that  funding  a  project  that,  due  to   financial   constraints,   has   not   been   through   a   considered   development   process   is   irresponsible   and   therefore  also  interesting  to  consider  whether  the  funding  of  projects  solely  from  stage  D  onwards  is   even   ethical.     Perhaps,   taking   the   financial   and   environmental   responsibilities   of   those   responsible   capital  projects  into  consideration,  funders  should    be  required  to  provide  a  percentage  of  up-­‐front  
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 Short,  A.,  Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  the  Performing  Arts,  Theatres,  Issue9,  Autumn  2006,  p.10    Short,  A.,  Designing  Dynamic  Environments  for  the  Performing  Arts,  Theatres,  Issue9,  Autumn  2006,  p.10  

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funding   for   research,   appraisal,   briefing   and   outline   design.   BAC   decided   to   pump-­‐prime   the   design   phase,   preparing   themselves   to   spend   a   large   chunk   of   their   budget   up   front.     As   an   organisation   known   for   its   focus   on   process   and   new   work,   it   was   also   able   to   attract   funding   for   research   into   Playgrounding  as  a  process,  as  well  as  the  earliest  design  stages  of  the    project.     The   second   financial   consideration   are   the   architect’s   and   design   team’s   fees.     In   the   initial   design   phases   of   a   project   these   are   paid   on   a   ‘taxi   metre’   basis.   Once   the   scope   of   the   project   has   been   established,  they  are  paid  as  a  percentage  of  the  overall  cost  of  the  project.    The  cost  difference  of   taxi-­‐metre  to  percentage  fees    is  as  the  difference  between  hailing  a  black  cab  in  Oxford  Circus  and   asking  them  to  drive  you  to  Heathrow    and  pre-­‐booking  a  local  airport  service  with  a  fixed  rate.    Once   the   project   budget   is   fixed,   i.e.   they   know   the   client   is   in   for   the   long   haul,   the   architect   becomes   cheaper.    However  this  system  makes  an  important  assumption:  as  soon  as  the  design  phase  is  over,   everyone   knows   how   much   ‘architecture’   is   going   to   be   delivered.     Everyone   knows   if   it   is   a   £10   million  project  or  a  £30  million  project.    However  if  you  have  broken  down  the  phases  so  that  lessons   can   be   learnt   and   fed   back   into   a   later   phase,   that   final   figure   has   to   remain   at   least   nominally   vague,   because  some  phases  may  be  drastically  rethought.    BAC  therefore  decided  to  keep  the  design  team   on   a   taxi-­‐metre   basis,   within   an   agreed   set   of   expectations   and   parameters,   defined   by   an   annual   budget   to   maintain   the   core   project   management   team   dialogue.     Fee   arrangements   for   specific   projects  would  be  negotiated  as  they  arose.    This  proposes  a  number  of  discomforts  to  the  architect:   an  undefined  period  of  engagement  with  a  building,  an  undefined  amount  of  architecture  as  a  result   and   therefore   an   undefined   fee.     It   is   also   much   more   costly   to   the   client   organisation   in   the   short   term.           On   the   other   hand,   it   offers   architects   something   which   fixed   budgets   otherwise   deny:   the   opportunity  to  change  their  mind.  All  artists  change  their  mind.    Making  mistakes  is  at  the  heart  of  the   creative  process.  Architects  are  artists  and  design  is  a  creative  process.    Architects  change  their  minds,   but  because  they  are  professionals  –  expensive  professionals  –they  have  to  pretend  that  they  don’t.       Once  the  design  has  been  signed  off,  the  idea  almost  ceases  to  matter:       It  is  history  and  it  can  never  be  changed  and  that  idea  has  been  paid  for  with  good  money…   so  you  never  say  ‘you  know  that  idea  you  paid  for?  It  turns  out  it  was  rubbish  and  here’s  a   better  idea.  In  most  circumstances  that’s  embarrassing.  But  with  Playgrounding,  it’s  like  ‘how   fantastic,   now   we’ve   had   another   idea’   and   so   it’s   making   concrete   what   most   artists   go   through  anyway.   Tompkins   describes   how   architects   have   to   pretend   that   they   don’t   go   through   a   process   of   changing   their  minds  because  ‘we’re  infallible  professionals  and  we’re  expensive  infallible  professionals  more  
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 Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009  

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to  the  point,  so  the  room  for  what  would  otherwise  be  seen  as  error  is  miniscule  and  if  you  want  to   change  your  mind  you  have  to  do  it  by  subterfuge…’   The  design  is  changed  because  ‘the  circumstances  have  changed’  or  ‘for  health  and  safety  reasons’,   not  because  architects  are  artists  and  they  have  therefore  had  a  better  idea  than  their  first  idea.     Alexander  describes  this:  ‘Architects  are  supposed  to  be  good  visualisers,  and  we  are,  but  still,  most  of   the  time  we’re  wrong.    Even  when  you  build  the  thing  yourself  and  you  are  doing  well,  you  are  still   making  nine  mistakes  for  every  success.’
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   The  more  time  allowed  for  in  the  process  to  learn  from  

mistakes,  and  correct  them  and  get  feedback,  the  more  intelligently  the  design  will  develop.    Jubb  and   Tompkins  established  a  relationship  based  on  an  artistic  collaboration.    Jubb  wrote  ‘I  don’t  want  to   work  with  anyone  who  knows  exactly  what  they’re  doing  all  the  time,  what  would  be  the  point  of   collaborating  with  someone  where  there  was  no  risk  involved?  You’d  know  the  outcome  before  you   started.’
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   Knowing  the  outcome  before  you  start,  knowing  exactly  how  you  are  going  to  get  there  

and  how  much  it  is  going  to  cost,  is  the  whole  point  of  the  Plan  of  Work.  

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 Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009    Alexander,  C.,  quoted  by  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,   p.63   178 th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  20099  

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Liability     The  Plan  of  Work  is  also  embedded  in  the  legal  framework  of  a  project.    The  process  of  signing  off  at   the   end   of   each   stage   is   ‘partly   designed   to   protect   one   party   from   another   and   ensure   liability   is   clearly   carried.’
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    This   means   that   there   is   a   clear   demarcation   between   different   management  

bodies’  responsibilities  and  liabilities.    Jubb  argues  that  this  structure  encourages  the  passivity  of  the   client,   because   it   actively   promotes   the   role   of   the   ‘expert’   as   liability   is   deferred   to   expertise.   This   gives  the  architect  complete  control  over  the  project  but  also  encourges  them  towards  locking  every   aspect   of   the   design   down   and   finishing   every   detail.   Because   if   the   client   has   had   no   role   in   its   development,   they   will   struggle   to   take   part   in   its   completion.   ‘I   think   the   danger   is   that   collective   responsibility   is   diminished.’
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  In   order   to   create   a   dynamic   design   process,   not   only   does   the  

phasing  of  a  project  have  to  be  rethought  but  the  liability  has  to  be  restructured  to  encourage  a  more   long   term,   collaborative   relationship   between   the   architect   and   the   building.     Collaboration   is   challenging  in  an  environment  in  which  liability  is  paramount.     Playgrounding’s   challenge   to   the   Plan   of   Work   in   terms   of   liability   is   the   breaking   down   of   the   “architect”  /  “client”  relationship.    BAC’s  ‘Space  Team’    is  made  up  of  members  of  staff  who  engage   with  the  building:  the  Head  of  Production  and  Premises,  the  Artistic  Director,  the  Chief  Executive  who   manages   the   capital   budgets   and   various   other   maintenance   and   technical   staff.     BAC   and   Haworth   Tompkins   agreed   that,   in   honour   of   the   collaboration,   there   would   always   be   a   BAC   presence   in   design  team  meetings.    This  has  proved  challenging  for  members  of  the  design  team  who  are  not  used   to  having  the  ‘client’  present  throughout  a  process.    It  shifts  the  usual  balance  of  power  in  the  room.     The   client   is   normally   invited   to   presentation   meetings,   not   to   witness   the   nitty   gritty   moments   when   not  everyone  is  agreeing  or  delivering.       Playgrounding’s   phased   approach   meant   that   a   large   amount   of   the   works   could   be   carried   out   without   the   help   of   the   design   team.     This   realisation   did   not   come   immediately.     In   a   design   team   meeting  for  a  production  in  the  Grand  Hall,  Tompkins  described  the  management  structure  as  akin  to   ‘using  a  sledge  hammer  to  crack  a  nut’.    Whilst  ideas  were  still  in  their  early  phases  they  could  mostly   be  managed  by  BAC’s  own  in-­‐house  team,  but  the  issue  of  liability  then  becomes  more  complicated.     If  it  was  Haworth  Tompkins’  design,  being  carried  out  by  a  contractor,  under  the  supervision  of  BAC   staff  –  who  is  liable  if  something  goes  wrong?       BAC  and  Haworth  Tompkins  realised  that  in  order  to  make  the  collaboration  a  reality  they  had  to  go   one  step  further.    Firstly,  they  could  not  function  as  two  separate  teams,  watching  over  each  other’s   work.     Everyone   in   the   core   project   management   team,   including   consultants,   would   signalled   their  
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 David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009   th  David  Jubb  (davidj@bac.org.uk),  in  and  email  to  the  author  (amg52@cam.ac.uk),  Questions  for  David  Jubb,  July  12  2009  

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collaborative  approach  by  becoming  members  of  the  Space  Team.    Jubb  wanted  to  ‘stop  using  other   terms  that  describe  a  more  formulaic  relationship  such  as  ‘design  team’,  ‘architect  &  client.’
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 The  

second   decision   was   to   put   in   place   a   project   management   structure   with   much   more   regular   meetings  between  the  three  key  levels  of  management:   Artistic  Director  and  Lead  Architect   (David  Jubb  and  Steve  Tompkins)   Chief  Executive  and  QS  or  Financial  Director   (Rosie  Hunter  and  Lindsay  Cornock  /  Toby  Johnson)   Head  of  Production  and  Premises  and  Associate  Architect    or  Lead   Providing  management  for  the  project   Contractor   (Richard  Couldrey  and  Joanna  Sutherland)     Regular  meetings  between  these  three  key  parties  ‘will  mean  that  the  gears  won’t  graunch  when  it   comes   to   starting   up   a   project,   because   ongoing   project   management   dialogue   will   have   shaped   appropriate   project   teams,   timescales   and   resources   around   evolving   ideas.’
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Providing  direction  for  the  project  

Providing  financial  framework  for  the  project  

    Once   projects   got  

under   way,   specific   project   teams   would   be   put   together   depending   on   the   kind   of   work   taking   place.     These   collaborators   would   include   the   artists,   design   consultants,   BAC   staff,   licensing   officers   or   building  contractors.       In  the  next  step,  the  Space  Team  will  begin  to  explore  how  liabilities  can  be  shared  between  them.       Conscious  of  the  high  stakes  of  their  collaboration,  Tompkins  and  Jubb  have  begun  to  look  at  how  this   can  be  achieved.    As  this  dissertation  goes  to  print,  BAC’s  board  are  considering  the  ramifications  of   taking  on  the  liability  for  the  capital  project.    

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 David  Jubb,  notes  from  meeting  with  Steve  Tompkins,  Swaines  Lane,  6  July  2009   th  The  diagram  is  derived  from  David  Jubb’s  notes  from  meeting  with  Steve  Tompkins,  Swaines  Lane,  6  July  2009   183 th  David  Jubb,  notes  from  meeting  with  Steve  Tompkins,  Swaines  Lane,  6  July  2009  

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Conclusion     One  of  the  things  which  we  are  searching  for  is  a  form  of  architecture  which,  unlike  classical   architecture,  is  not  perfect  and  finite  upon  completion…  we  are  looking  for  an  architecture   rather   like   some   music   and   poetry   which   can   actually   be   changed   by   the   users,   an   architecture  of  improvisation.   Improvisation  is  at  the  core  of  the  creative  process:  it  is  playful,  messy,  evolving  and  delights  in  the   unknown.    Any  rehearsal  process,  whether  text-­‐based  or  devised,  relies  to  a  certain  extent  on  asking   questions   which   are   never   conclusively   answered.     There   is,   for   example,   no   once-­‐and-­‐for-­‐all   interpretation   of   The   Cherry   Orchard.     Every   good   production   of   The   Cherry   Orchard   is   good   for   different   reasons   and   the   same   goes   for   the   bad.     Finding   creative   answers   requires   improvisation   which  is,  above  all,  risky.    The  creative  process  is  risky.    Mistakes  are  not  only  inevitable,  but  a  vital   part  of  the  journey.    In  order  to  design  spaces  for  the  performing  arts  that  are  responsive  to  the  users   of   the   space,   the   established   architectural   process   and   its   related   structures   must   evolve   to   encourage   risk   and   manage   it   creatively,   rather   than   attempt   to   minimise   it.     The   Playgrounding   process   enables   architectural   work   based   on   improvisation   by   creating   a   framework   around   it   founded  on  collaboration  and  taking  time.       Collaboration   encourages   shared   responsibility   for   the   process   and   the   outcome,   which   means   that   taking  risks  and  making  mistakes  becomes  legally  viable.    A  collaboration  places  the  creative  input  of   artists,   including   the   architect,   at   the   heart   of   the   process.     When   those   artists   are   allowed   to   take   risks  and  learn  from  the  layers  created  by  each  other,    this  results  in  spaces  that  develop  organically,   in   response   to   the   needs   of   the   organisation   and   that   ultimately   reflect   the   vision   of   the   users.     Placing   artists   at   the   centre   of   a   process   also   enables   the   individual   creativity   of   the   wider   team.     Everyone  is  challenged  to  be  proactive  and  take  responsibility,  using  their  expertise  to  find  creative   solutions.     Finally,   collaboration   levels   the   playing   field   for   inexperienced   members   of   the   design   team:   the   user   who   may   not   know   what   their   needs   are   or   how   to   express   them   in   architectural   terms,  empowering  them  to  navigate  the  architectural  process,  and  the  architect  who  may  not  know   what  demands  working  in  an  arts  environment  will  place  on  their  creativity.     The  scratch  process  supports  ‘taking  time’  by  dividing  prolonged  creative  development  into  a  series  of   shorter   phases,   each   of   which   has   a   tangible   outcome   shared   with   a   wider   audience   in   order   to   receive   feedback   that   will   inform   the   following   phase.     The   phased   approach   makes   risk-­‐taking   financially  feasible  as  ‘mistakes’  are  made  in  the  earlier,  ‘scratch’  phases.  This  method  of  prototyping   means   that   ideas   are   tested   in   the   ephemera   of   theatre   before   being   committed   to   in   the  
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 Sir  Richard  Rogers,  quoted  by  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London   1997,  p.71  

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permanence  of  architecture,  minimising  the  risk  of  committing  to  large-­‐scale,  permanent  ideas  that   have  not  been  thoroughly  explored  and  understood.  Incorporating  risk  in  the  short  term  might  make   a  significant  contribution  towards  securing  long  term  success.         By   creating   a   permeable   process     of   feedback   in   which   design   is   ongoing,   the   value   of   delivering   a   ‘finished’   building   is   brought   into   question.     Near   the   outset   of   The   Masque   of   the   Red   Death   Tompkins   envisaged   a   process   that   would   ‘test   our   growing   conviction   that   the   most   effective   and   sustainable   theatre   architecture   is   essentially   provisional,   representing   the   complex   ‘now’   and   capable   of   absorbing   accumulated   layers   of   performance.’
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  It   has   been   suggested   that   the  

architectural   profession   can   no   longer   afford   to   design   buildings   that   prioritise   preserving   a   static   moment  of  creativity    at  the  expense  of  future  users  and  in  denial  of  the  inevitability  of  change.    In   ‘On   Not   Building   for   Posterity’   Michael   Elliot   made   an   impassioned   call   against   bequeathing   to   the   next  generation  of  artists  our  concrete  visions  of  what  theatre  should  be.  Architecture  witnessed  the   failure   of   the   ‘great’   modern   architects   to   design   performance   spaces   as   their   ‘inbred   urge   towards   resolution   and   permanence   were   at   odds   with   theatre,   which   continues   to   thrive   on   indeterminacy   and   possibility.’
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  How   has   architecture   responded   to   this?     In   an   attempt   to   meet   the   rapidly  
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evolving   needs   of   theatre   it   has,   in   many   cases,   pursued   flexibility.   But   standing   on   the   platform   at   Clapham   Junction,   Axel   Burrough’s   parting   words   were   ‘flexibility   was   nothing   but   a   mirage’,   a  

lesson  both  theatre  and  architecture  are  learning  at  great  expense.    Tompkins  proposed  that  we  are   in   an   in-­‐between   moment   in   which   we   have   fallen   out   of   love   with   the   negative   space   of   the   black   box,   but   have   yet   to   find   the   ‘new   orthodoxy’   of   theatre   space.   He   suggested   that   ‘if   architects   are   really  to  be  of  use  in  the  creation  of  theatre  spaces,  we  will  have  to  open  ourselves  to  unfamiliar  ways   of   working.’
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    Playgrounding   does   not   suggest   a   new   kind   of   theatre   architecture   that   encompasses  

all  the  paradoxical  characteristics  of  a  performance  space  with  ‘aura’,  it  proposes  a  process  that  may   enable  artists  and  a  willing  architect  to  discover  the  kind  of  space  they  need  and  carry  the  specificity   of  that  vision  through  to  completion.    A  dynamic  ‘completion’,  built  not  for  flexibility  but  for  change,  a   space   that   empowers   future   users   to   complete   it,   commandeer   it,   alter   it.     Brand   writes   that   a   conversation  about  designing  for  transience  in  architecture  will  be  ‘difficult  because  it  is  fundamental.     The   transition   from   image   architecture   to   process   architecture   is   a   leap   from   the   certainties   of   controllable   things   in   space   to   the   self-­‐organizing   complexities   of   an   endlessly   ravelling   and   unravelling  skein  of  relationships  over  time.’  
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 Steve  Tompkins,  Fuzzy  Logic,  Preliminary  Report,  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  July  2007,  p.9    Steve  Tompkins  and  Andrew  Todd,  Theatre  Notes:  Paper  delivered  at  Civic  Centre  Conference,  London  2004  and  published   in  Performance  Research,  2005   187 th  Axel  Burrough,  interviewed  at  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  8  June  2009     188  Steve  Tompkins  and  Andrew  Todd,  Theatre  Notes:  Paper  delivered  at  Civic  Centre  Conference,  London  2004  and  published   in  Performance  Research,  2005   189  Brand,  S.,  How  Buildings  Learn:  What  happens  after  they’re  built,  Phoenix  Illustrated,  London  1997,  p.  71  

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Theatre  must  also  rethink  its  demanding,  over-­‐specified  approach  to  architecture.    Not  only  should  a   building   be   expected   to   adapt   to   new   functions,   a   function,   even   one   as   specific   as   theatre,   should   adapt  to  a  building.    By  not  attempting  to  impose  the  standard  expectations  of  theatre  configuration   onto   an   adapted   space,   both   architects   and   theatre   makers   will   be   forced   to   step   outside   the   orthodoxies   of   their   form,   conceivably   to   challenge   the   limits   of   what   we   now   recognise   as   theatre   space.    Perhaps  the  new  orthodoxy  of  theatre  space  is  not  one  of  form  or  style,  but  of  process.     As  Bo   Bardi  said,  ‘The  Oficina  is  not  the  portal  to  Cologne  Cathedral,  but  it  is  an  important  milestone  along  a   difficult  road’.  
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 Bo  Bardi,  L.,  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Instituto  Lina  Bo  e  P.M.  Bardi,  Sao  Paulo  2008  (3  Ed.),  p.258  

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Interviews  Conducted     Tom  Morris,  interviewed  at  the  National  Theatre  Studio,  4  June  2009   Axel  Burrough,  interviewed  at  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  8  June  2009   David  Jubb,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Muswell  Hill,  23  February  2009,  and  answered  questions  by  email,   12  July  2009   David  Micklem,  interviewed  at  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  19  June  2009   Jude  Kelly,  interviewed  at  the  South  Bank  Centre,  9  July  2009   Steve  Tompkins,  interviewed  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009     I  have  also  drawn  upon  conversations  with  David  Lan,  (October  2008),  Anthony  Roberts  (at  Colchester  Arts   Centre,  13  July  2009),  Lyn  Gardner  (in  Suffolk,  17  July  2009)  and  Dalibor  Vessely  (at  his  home  in   Finchley,  2  August  2009)  and  on  transcripts  from  the  Theatres  Trust  Conference,  9  June  2009.        
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Bibliographic  and  Archival  Sources     1.   London,  Battersea  History  Library   MISC.  File  725.13  BATT:  Miscellaneous  clippings  and  images  relating  to  Battersea  Town  Hall  &  Battersea  Arts   Centre   792.SHA:  Clippings  and  images  of  Shakespeare  Theatre,  Lavender  Hill   421.BATT(R3):  Battersea  Vestry  reports  and  local  maps   920.BURN:  Scrap  collection  on  Battersea  MP  John  Burns  (1858  –  1943)   92.DESP:  Scrap  collection  Charlotte  Despard,  Battersea  Suffragette   Unlisted  plans  of  the  building,  1896  –  1974   Archive  of  local  newspapers,  in  particular  South  Western  Star,  Wandsworth  Borough  News,  South  London   Press,  Wandsworth  Comet,  Clapham  and  Balham  News  and  Putney  News     London,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   Uncatalogued  files  relating  to  the  history  of  the  organisation:  annual  reports,  brochures,  letters,  board   minutes,  images   Online  archive  of  files  and  images  relating  to  the  current  capital  programme       London,  The  Theatres  Trust   Uncatalogued  archive  of  press  clippings  and  images:   Shakespeare  Theatre,  London   Battersea  Arts  Centre,  London   Young  Vic  Theatre,  London   Royal  Court  Theatre,  London     London,  Victoria  and  Albert  Museum  Theatre  Collection,  Blyth  House,  Olympia   Recording  of  Royal  Court  Diaries,  BBC  Omnibus,  1997     2. Published  Material   a. Anonymous  Periodical  articles   Public  Archive  Sources  

‘Fears  for  future  of  borough  arts  centre’,  South  Western  Star,  9.12.77,  1   ‘Gordon  Craig’s  stage  settings:  designs  which  depend  upon  elements  of  architecture’,  Architect  and  Building   News  120  (1928),  299-­‐301   ‘New  City  theatre  and  concert  hall,  Malmö’,  Architect  and  Building  News  182,  1945,  40-­‐44   ‘Play  it  again’,  Building  Design  Supplement,  January  199,  8-­‐9     ‘Wohnwelt,  Wohnumwelt’,  Bauen  &  Wohnen  28,  1974,  139-­‐147  

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'Art  Centre  is  for  all  borough',  West  Borough  News,  25  September  1977,  P.6   Arts  Council  of  Great  Britain,  ‘Taking  Part:  emerging  thinking  2008-­‐2011’,  www.artscouncil.org.uk   Arts  Council  of  Great  Britain,  Housing  the  arts  in  Great  Britain,  www.artscouncil.org.uk   'BAC  threat  of  closure  -­‐  reactions',  South  London  Press,  30  October  1979,  P.6   'BAC's  artistic  director  accuses  Wandsworth  borough  council  of  cuts  and  claims  link  to  Gerry  Adams',  Putney   News,  16  December  1994,  P.2   'Centenary  archives  handed  to  local  history  library',  West  Borough  News,  3th  December  1993,  P.1   'Council  deny  cut  is  linked  to  pro-­‐IRA  play',  West  Borough  News,  23  September  1994,  P.5   'Does  BAC  give  value  for  money?',  South  London  Press,  25  November  1977,  P.6   English  Heritage,  ‘Theatres:  a  guide  to  theatre  conservation  from  English  Heritage’  (1995)   'Foyer  glass  dome  renovation  £60,000',  Putney  News,  5  December  1997,  P.8   'Grant  from  Wandsworth  Borough  Council',  Wandsworth  Borough  News,  29  March  1985,  P.16   'Hopes  to  expand,  involves  locals',  South  London  Press,  18  January  1985,  P.17   'Ideas  for  future  of  Borough  arts  centre',  South  Western  Star,  9  December  1977,  P.1   'Man  with  plan  for  arts  centre',  South  Western  Star,  23  September  1977,  P.45   'May  have  to  make  cuts  be  of  reduced  grant',  South  London  Press,  22  March  1992,  P.14   'Memories  collected  for  centenary',  South  London  Press,  13  August  1993,  P.22   'Now  main  'alternative'  venue',  South  London  Press,  10  February  1995,  P.31   'Paul  Blackman  leaves  after  4  years',  Putney  News,  10  February  1995,  P.4   'Protest  over  closure  –  official  views  –  raising  money',  West  Borough  News,  26  October  1979,  P.1   'BAC  Receives  £275,000  to  make  this  more  accessible',  West  Borough  News,  22  May  1998,  P.6   'BAC  Receives  £30,000  from  lottery  fund',  South  London  Press,  7  April  1992,  Local  section  P.2   'BAC  Receives  lottery  money  for  minor  work  and  feasibility  study  for  £5  million  development',  West  Borough   News,  18  October  1996,  P.1+19   'BAC  Receives  second  sum  of  lottery  money  and  council  ten  year  rate',  West  Borough  News,  12  September   1997,  P.2   'BAC  Spending  £270,000  on  improvements',  South  London  Press,  25  October  1996,  P.44   'Story  Reactions  against  play  by  Gerry  Adams',  West  borough,  3  June  1994,  P.1   'Two  die  in  'Bikers'  street  battle  outside  BAC',  West  Borough  News,  6  February  1998,  P.1   ‘The  Work  of  Walter  Gropius’,  Architectural  Review  56  ,1924,  50-­‐54   'Building  is  listed',  Clapham  and  Balham  News  ,  5  June  1970,  P.1   ‘Man  with  a  plan  for  Arts  Centre’,  South  Western  Star,  23.9.77,  45   ‘Art  Centre  is  for  all  borough’,  Wandsworth  Borough  News,  25.9.77,  6   'Modernised  BAC  re-­‐opens',  South  London  Press,  25  November  1977,  P.6   ‘Does  BAC  give  value  for  money?’,  South  London  Press,  18.11.77,  6   ‘Modernised  BAC  re-­‐opens’,  South  London  Press,  25.11.77,  6   'BAC  proposed  closure',  Putney  Herald,  25  October  1979,  P.1   ‘BAC  proposed  closure’,  Putney  Herald,  25.10.79,  1  
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'Varied  program  since  re-­‐opening  in  February  1981',  25  November  1980,  P.3   'New  £60,000  theatre',  South  Western  Star,  31  August  1984,  P.15   'Visit  by  Princess  Diana',  West  Borough  News,  17  May  1985,  P.1   'Council  grant  could  be  cut',  West  Borough  News,  4  January  1991,  P.1   'New  Boss  is  Tom  Morris  (from  1/5/95)',  South  London  Press,  7  August  1995,  P.42   'GH  ceiling  collapses',  Putney  News,  12  January  1996,  P.1   'Interview  with  Tom  Morris',  Putney  News,  19  January  1996,  P.10   ‘Grand  Hall  ceiling  collapses’,  Putney  News,  12.1.96,  1   'Younger  Brewery  give  £35,000',  Putney  News,  3  May  1996,  P.3   'Local  MP  praises  refurb',  West  Borough  News,  12  June  1998,  P.22+72   ‘A  hard  act  to  follow’,  Building  Design  1485,  4  May  2001,  13-­‐14   ‘Young  at  Heart’,  Architectural  Review,  July  2007   'New  chief  –  Mr  Brian  Harris',  Clapham  and  Balham  News,  October  26     b.   Alexander,  A.,  Structure,  Centralization  and  the  Position  of  Local  Government,  in  Loughlin,  L.,  Gelfand,  M.D.  and   Young,  K.  (Eds.),  Half  a  century  of  Municipal  Decline:  1935-­‐1985,  George  Allen  &  Unwin,  1985,  p50  –  76   Allen,  K.,  K.  Burnett  (eds.),  Collaborators:  UK  Design  for  Performance  2003-­‐2007,  London,  Society  of  British   Theatre  Designers,  2007   Allsop,  B.,  ‘Why  do  Architects  need  history?’,  RIBA  Journal  50  (1968):  472-­‐475   Azara,  P.  and  Guri,  C.,  Arquitectos  a  Escena  (Architects  on  Stage:  stage  and  exhibition  design  in  the  90’s),   Editorial  Gustavo  Gili,  Barcelona  2000   Bablet,  D.,  Le  Décor  De  Theatre  de  1870  à  1914,  Editions  du  CNRS,  Paris,  1983   Banu,  Georges  and  Ubersfeld,  Anne,  L’espace  Théâtral  (Actualité  des  arts  plastiques  No.45),  Paris:  CNDP,  1992   Bo  Bardi,  Lina,  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Instituto  Lina  Bo  e  P.M.  Bardi,  Sao  Paulo  2008  (3  Ed.)   Barker,  Howard,  Arguments  for  a  Theatre,  2  Edition,  Manchester  University  Press,  1993   Barret,  Peter.  Stanley,  Catherine,  Better  Construction  Briefing,  Oxford,  Blackwell,  1999   Barron,  M.,  Auditorium  acoustics  and  architectural  design,  London,  E.  and  F.N.  Spon,  1993   Barron,  Michael,  Auditorium  Acoustics  and  Architectural  Design,  London,  Spon,  1993   Bartlett,  C.J,  A  history  of  postwar  Britain  1945-­‐1974,  Longman,  London,  1977   Baugh,  C.,  Theatre,  Performance  and  Techonology,  Palgrave  Macmillan,  New  York,  2005   Beacham,  R.  C.,  Adolphe  Appia,  Texts  on  Theatre,  Routledge  1993   Benjamin,  Walter,  The  work  of  Art  in  the  Age  of  Mechanical  Reproduction,  1936   Berma,  M.,  All  that  is  solid  melts  into  air:  the  experience  of  modernity,  London,  Verso,  1983   Berrington,  B.,  ‘Cutting  your  shape  to  suit  your  show’,  TABS  29/4  (1971):  125-­‐129   Blurton,  J.,  Scenery:  Draughting  and  Construction  for  Theatres,  Museums,  Exhibitions  and  Trade  Shows,   London:  A  &  C  Black,  2001  
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Mulyrne,  Ronnie,  and  Margaret  Shewring,  ‘Introduction’  p.i-­‐x  in  Ronnie  Mulryne  and  Margaret  Shewring  (eds.),   Making  space  for  theatre,  Stratford,  Mulryne  and  Shewring,  1995   Myers,  J.,  ‘The  Warwick  Arts  Centre’,  p.69  in  Ronnie  Mulryne  and  Margaret  Shewring  (eds.),  Making  space  for   theatre,  Stratford,  Mulryne  and  Shewring,  1995   Nancy,  Jean-­‐Luc,  ‘Of  Divine  Places’,  tr.  M.  Holland  in  The  Inoperative  Community,  Minneapolis:  University  of   Minnesota  Press,  1991,  p.110-­‐150   de  Oliviera,  Olivia,  Subtle  substances:  the  architecture  of  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Editorial  Gustavo  Gill  &  Instituto  Lina  Bo   e  P.M.  Bardi,  Barcelona  and  Sao  Pualo  (publication  undated)   Pearman,  H.,  ‘Building  the  perfect  rapport’,  Sunday  Times,  3  November  1996   Powell,  k.,  ‘A  play  of  spaces’,  Architects  Journal  219  /  14  (2004):  24-­‐37   Ramsey.  Sherwood,  Historic  Battersea,  G.  RANGECROFT  &  Co.,  ST.  JOHN'S  HILL,  BATTERSEA,  LONDON,  I9I3   Read,  A.,  Architecturally  Speaking,  Routledge,  London  2000   Read,  A.,  Theatre  and  Everyday  Life,  An  Ethics  of  Performance,  Routledge,  London,  1995   Reardon  M.,  ‘Sacred  space  and  secular  space’,  pp.25-­‐27  in  Ronnie  Mulryne  and  Margaret  Shewring  (eds.),   Making  space  for  theatre,  Stratford,  Mulryne  and  Shewring,  1995   Redmond,  James  (ed.),  The  theatrical  Space:  themes  in  Drama  Vol.  IX,  Cambridge  University  Press,  1987   Reid,  F.,  ‘Seeing,  Hearing  and  contact’,  pp.  28-­‐33  in  Ronnie  Mulryne  and  Margaret  Shewring  (eds.),  Making   space  for  theatre,  Stratford,  Mulryne  and  Shewring,  1995   Reid,  F.,  Designing  for  the  Theatre,  2nd  ed.  London:  A  &  C  Black,  1996   Rey-­‐Flaud,  Henri,  Le  Cercle  magique,  Paris:  Gallimard,  1973   Richardson,  V.,  ‘Into  the  limelight’,  RIBA  Journal  111/3  (2004):  58-­‐61   Sauter,  Willmar,  The  theatrical  event:  dynamics  of  performance  and  perception,  Iowa,  Iowa  University  Press,   2000   Savran,  D.,  Breaking  the  Rules:  The  Wooster  Group,  New  York,  Theatre  Communications  Group,  1988   Schechner,  R.,  Essays  on  perfrmance  theory,  1970-­‐1976,  New  York,  Drama  Book  Specialists,  1977   Schechner,  R.,  Performance  theory,  New  York  and  London,  Routledge,  1998   Schechner,  R.,  Preformance  studies:  an  introduction,  London,  Routledge,  2002   Schechner,  Richard  ,The  Living  Book  of  the  Living  Theatre,  New  York,  1971   Schechner,  Richard,  Six  Axioms  for  Environmental  Theatre,  Public  Domain,  Essays  on  Theatre,  New  York,  1969,   p.157-­‐180   Schechner,  Richard,  The  Future  of  Ritual,  Writings  on  culture  and  performance,  Routledge,  London  1993   Schubert,  H.,  Moderner  Theaterbau,  London  1971   Short,  C.A.,  P.S.  Barett  et  al,  Geometry  and  Atmosphere,  forthcoming,  2008   Short,  C.A.,  P.S.  Barett,  M.  Sutrisna,  and  A.R.  Dye,  ‘Impacts  of  value  engineering  on  five  capital  arts  projects’   Building  Research  and  Information  35/3  (2007):  287-­‐315   Sinclair,  A.,  Arts  can  cultures:  the  history  of  the  fifty  years  of  the  Arts  Council  of  Great  Britain,  London,  Sinclair   Stevenson,  1995   Sinclair,  Andrew,  Arts  and  Cultures:  The  History  of  the  50  Years  of  the  Arts  Council  of  Great  Britain,  Sinclair-­‐

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Stevenson,  London,  1995   Southern,  Richard,  The  Seven  Ages  of  the  Theatre,  London:  Faber,  1964   Strong,  J.,  Encore:  strategies  for  theatre  renewal,  London,  Theatres  Trust,  1999   Sudjic,  Deyan,  ‘What  looks  like  a  magenta  fish,  cost  £52  million  and  closed  before  it  opened?’,  The  Observer,   25  June  2006   Svoboda,  Josef,  The  Secret  of  Theatrical  Space,  ed.  and  tr.  J.M.  Burian,  New  York:  Applause,  1993   Tafuri,  M.,  Theatre  as  a  Virtual  City,  Appia  to  the  Totaltheatre,  Lotus  International,  Dec.  1977,  no.  17   Thackeray,  Anne  (Lady  Ritchie),  From  the  Porch,  Charles  Scribner’s  Sons,  New  York,  1914  (2  Ed.)   Thorne,  G.,  Stage  Design:  a  Practical  Guide,  Marlborough:  Crowood  Press,  1999     Todd,  Andrew  and  Lecat,  Jean-­‐Guy,  the  Open  Circle:  Peter  Brook’s  theatre  environments,  London:  Methuen,   2002   Tomlin,  Liz,  English  theatre  in  the  1990s  and  beyond,  Cambridge  History  of  British  Theatre  vol.3,  Cambridge,   2004,  p.  498-­‐512   Tuan,  Yi-­‐Fu,  ‘Space  and  Context’  in  By  Mean  of  Performance,  ed.  Richard  Shechner  and  Willa  Appel,  Cambridge   Univeristy  Press1990,  p.236-­‐244   Tuan,  Yi-­‐Fu,  Passing  Strange  and  Wonderful:  aesthetics,  nature  and  culture,  Washington,  D.C.:  Island  Press   1993   Tweedy-­‐Smith,  R.,  Ald.,  The  History,  Law,  Practice  and  Procedure  relating  to  Mayors,  Aldermen  and  Councillors,   Jordan  and  Sons,  London  1934   Vesely,  D.,  Architecture  in  the  age  of  divided  representation,  the  question  of  creativity  in  the  shadow  of   production,  Cambridge,  MIT  Press,  2004   Villiers,  André  (ed.),  Architecture  et  dramaturgie,  Paris:  Flammarion,  1950   Vitruvius  Pollio,  Marcus,  The  Ten  Books  of  Architecture  v.i.1-­‐2,  tr.  M.H.  Morgan,  Cambridge,  Mass.,:  Harvard   University  Press,  1914   Vitruvius,  The  Ten  Books  on  Architecture,  trans.  Morris  Hicky  Morgan,  Cambridge  MA:  Harvard  University  Press   1914   Wallace,  N.,  ‘Peter  Brook,  theatre  space  and  the  Tramway’,  pp.61-­‐63  in  Ronnie  Mulryne  and  Margaret   Shewring  (eds.),  Making  space  for  theatre,  Stratford,  Mulryne  and  Shewring,  1995   Walton,  M.  J.  (ed.),  Craig  on  Theatre,  Methuen  London  1983   Wiles,  D.,  A  Short  History  of  Western  Performance  Space,  Cambridge  University  Press,  2003   Wiles,  D.,  Tragedy  in  Athens:  Performance  Space  and  Theatrical  Meaning  ??   Williams,  A.,  ‘Play  School’,  Architects  Journal  213/3  (25  January  2001):  28-­‐35   Witts,  Richard,  Artist  Unknown:  An  Alternative  History  of  the  Arts  Council,  Little,  Brown  and  Company,  London,   1998   Yin,  R.K.,  Case  study  research:  design  and  methods,  Thousand  Oaks  and  London,  SAGE,  2004   Young,  E.,  ‘Drama  Class’,  RIBA  Journal  110  (March  2003):  51-­‐56   Young,  K.,  Re-­‐Reading  the  Municipal  Progress:  A  crisis  revisited,  in  Loughlin,  L.,  Gelfand,  M.D.  and  Young,  K.   (Eds.),  Half  a  century  of  Municipal  Decline:  1935-­‐1985,  George  Allen  &  Unwin,  1985,  p.1-­‐25  
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Zukowsky,  J.  (ed.),  Karl  Friedrich  Schinkel  1781-­‐1841:  the  drama  of  architecture,  Chicago  1994       3.   Kenton,  Gail,  Naturally  Ventilated  Theatres,  Design  for  Occupant  Comfort,  seminar  held  at  the  Cambridge   Architecture  Faculty,  30.1.2009   Head,  Peter,  ARUP,  Basic  Principles  of  Auditoria  Acoustics:  Case  Study  Elisabeth  Murdoch  Hall,  Melbourne,   Australia,  seminar  held  at  the  Cambridge  Architecture  Faculty,  30.1.2009   Samuels,  Mohra,  Theatres  Trust,  Summary  of  findings  from  the  Theatres  Trust  Conference  on  Building   Sustainable  Theatres  (June  2008),  seminar  held  at  the  Cambridge  Architecture  Faculty,  30.1.2009   Central  School  of  Speech  and  Drama,  Conference  on  the  role  of  research  and  development  in  making  theatre,   Convened  by  Andy  Lavender,  Katherine  Alexander,  Speakers:  David  Jubb  (BAC),  Kate  McGrath  (Fuel),  Purni   Morell  (National  Theatre  Studio),  28  January  2009   Haworth  Tompkins  Architects  with  Allegra  Galvin,  ‘Battersea  Arts  Centre  Conservation  Management  Plan,’   (2007)   Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,    ‘Young  Vic  Theatre  Conservation  Management  Plan’,  (  2004)   Fair,  A.,  ‘British  Theatres  1926-­‐1991:  an  architectural  history,  PhD  Dissertation,  University  of  Cambridge,  2007   Tompkins,  S.,  Theatres  Trust  Conference  Paper,  delivered  9  June  2009   Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  ‘Fuzzy  Logic:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  Preliminary  Report,  July  2007     4. Online  Sources   http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/56119/Battersea   http://www.haworthtompkins.com/   http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/a2a/   Documents  in  the  online  archive  of  Teatro  Oficina,  accessed  repeatedly  from  January  –  June  2009  at   http://teatroficina.uol.com.br   Battersea  local  history  documents  and  images  accessed  repeatedly  from  October    2008  to  September    2009   athttp://www.wandsworth.gov.uk/info/200064/local_history_and_heritage     Punchdrunk  theatre  company  backgroung  information  accessed  on  28.05.2009  at   http://www.punchdrunk.org.uk/about.htm   Costa  Meyer,  E.  de,  After  the  Flood:  Lina  Bo  Bardi’s  Glass  House,  Harvard  Design  Magazine,  N.16,  Winter/Spring   2002  (downloaded  from   http://www.gsd.harvard.edu/research/publications/hdm/back/16decosta_meyer.html)   Heritage  Partnership  Agreement  update  accessed  on  15.08.2009  at   www.heritagelink.org.uk/docs/HPR_update_HPAs.doc   Project  details  for  Young  Vic  Theatre,  accessed  on  2.09.2009  at  http://www.designbuild-­‐ network.com/projects/young-­‐vic/  
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Unpublished  dissertations,  lectures  and  Conservation  Plans  

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  Appendix       1. Biography  of  E.W.  Mountford,  by  A.S.  Gray,  Edwardian  Architecture:  A  Biographical   Dictionary  (1985)     2.   3.   4.   5.   6.   7.   8.   9.   Questions  answered  by  David  Jubb,  in  an  email,  12  July  2009    
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English  Heritage  Listing,  1970,  Battersea  History  Library,  725.13BATT  

Timeline  of  BAC,  1801-­‐2001  

Transcript  of  ‘walk  round’  for  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  with  David  Jubb,  Steve  Tompkins   and  Felix  Barrett,  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive,  23  November  2006   Transcript  of  interview  with  Axel  Burrough,  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  8  June  2009  
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Transcript  of  interview  with  Jude  Kelly,  South  Bank  Centre,  9  July  2009  
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Transcript  of  interview  with  David  Micklem,  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  19  June  2009   Transcript  of  interview  with  Steve  Tompkins,  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009  
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Appendix  1     Biography  of  E.W.  Mountford     A.S.  Gray,  Edwardian  Architecture:  A  Biographical  Dictionary  (1985),  also  printed  in  Battersea  Arts   Centre  Conservation  Management  Plan,  2007     Mountford,  Edward  William  1855-­‐1908     E.W.  Mountford  was  born  in  1855  in  Warwickshire,    he  began  his  architectural  career  as  a  clerk  of   works  fofr  St.  Stephen’s,  Hounslow  in  1871  for  Habershon  and  Pite  of  Bloomsbury  Square,   London.  In  1876  he  became  principal  assistant  to  Pery  Elkington  and  Sons  and  in  1879  to  Giles   and  Gough.    The  following  year  he  set  up  his  own  practice  on  his  own  account.    His  early  work   consisted  largely  of  churches,  church  schools  and  rectories,  many  of  them  in  Wandsworth.         In  1888  Mountford  did  his  first  public  building,  the  Battersea  Library,  Lavender  Hill,  SW11   choosing  the  Early  French  Renaissance  style,  introduce  by  T.E.  Collcutt  eleven  years  earlier  in   Wakdefiled  Town  Hall.    Much  of  Mountford’s  subsequent  work  was  in  the  field  of  town  halls,   municipal  buildings,  technical  colleges  and  schools,  many  of  them  won  in  competitions.    His  first   major  success  was  Sheffield  Town  Hall  (1890-­‐94),  again  in  Early  French  Renaissance  style.    This   was  followed  by  Battersea  Town  Hall  on  Lavender  Hill,  in  the  same  style.         In  1900,  with  the  Hitchin  architect  Geoffrey  Lucas,  Mountford  won  the  competition  for  the  small   Hitchin  Town  Hall.    In  1907,  on  quite  a  different  scale,  he  won  the  splendid  Lancaster  town  Hall   the  gift  of  the  linoleum  manufacturer  Lord  Ashton,  who  had  given  Williamson  Park  to  the  town,   this  was  a  palace  of  splendid  proportions,  all  correctly  early  Georgian  and  reviving  the  style  of   James  GibbsL  the  interior  was  eaually  grand  and  the  whole  was  built  by  the  Waring  Whit  Co.,    a   subsidiary  of  Waring  &  Gillow  of  Lancaster  and  London  (Bldr,  9.11.07)     Mountford’s  first  technical  institute  was  the  ‘Wrennaissance’  style  Battersea  Polytechnic,   Battersea  Park  Road,  SW11,  built  in  891  on  part  of  the  site  previously  occupied  by  the  Albert   Palace  –  a  second  hand  iron  building  transferred  to  Battersea  from  the  Dublin  Exhibition  of  1872   and  opened  as  a  concert  hall  and  picture  gallery  by  the  speculator  ‘Baron’  Grant  (the  venture   failed  after  a  year,  and  the  building  was  pulled  down  in  1894).     In  1896  Mountford  won  the  competition  for  Northampton  Institute  (now  City  University)  on  the   estate  of  the  Earl  of  Northampton,  St  John  St.,  EC1.    This  is  in  a  Free-­‐Classic  style,  somewhat   French  in  flavour.    Mountford  also  designed  the  College  of  Technology  and  Museum  Extension,  

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Byrom  Street,  Liverpool,  giving  the  façade  paired  columns,  one  square,  one  round  –  swathed  in   rustications  and  flanking  wide  pedimented  niches  which  are  surmounted  by  figures  in   Michelangelesque  poses  (Bldr,  11.1.02).     Among  his  buildings,  the  block  of  offices  for  Booth’s  distillery  in  Turnmill  Street,  Smithfield,  EC!   (Bldr,  17.8.01  was  of  exceptional  quality.      

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Appendix  2     English  Heritage  Listing,  1970,  Battersea  History  Library,  725.13BATT       LB  UID   -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐   207065   BUILDING  NAME   -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐   BATTERSEA  COMMUNITY  ARTS  CENTRE     LIST_ENTRY_DESCRIPTION   -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐     LAVENDER  HILL  SW11  1.5033   Battersea  Community  Arts  Centre  (Formerly  listed  as  the  former  Battersea  Town  Hall  with  offices   and  public  assembly  hall)     TQ  2775  9/4  13.2.70  II*2     1892,  by  E.W.  Mountford   Large,  detached  building.    Front  block  in  free  classical  style,  Red  brick  and  brown  stone  with  high,   pantiled  roof.    Main  façade  ambitiously  treated  with  Ionic  columns,  3  shaped  pediments  and   figure  sculpture.    Inerior  contains  fine  marble  staircase  with  arcaded  gallery  on  3  sides.    Good   council  chamber  with  arched  ceiling.    Offices  plainly  treated  but  of  considerable  merit  externally.     Assembly  hall  and  vestibule  also  of  interest.     Listing  NGR:  tq2785475640        

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Appendix  3     Timeline  of  Battersea  Town  Hall  /  Battersea  Arts  Centre1801  to  2001       1801     1835   Municipal  Reform  Act  abolishes  property-­‐based  voting  scale  (introduced  in  1818  by  the   Sturges  Bourne  Act:  a  scale  of  voting,  allowing  ratepayers  between  one  and  six  cotes   depending  on  the  value  of  their  property.)     Establishment  of  178  incorporated  boroughs  governed  by  elected  councils  (instead  of  closed   corporations).    Towns  could  apply  to  be  incorporated  but  as  the  process  was  expensive  and   complicated  many  did  not,  and  although  it  granted  equal  votes  to  all  ratepayers  it  generally   favoured  the  middle  classes,  as  few  working  men  were  wealthy  enough  to  be  ratepayers.     Some  saw  incorporation  as  an  attempt  to  reinforce  economic  dominance  with  political   authority,  cloaked  in  democracy  and  universal  suffrage.    They  feared  that  the  wealthy   manufacturers  who  already  held  social  and  economic  sway  would  gain  further  control  over   the  working  class  –  essentially  raising  up  a  new  aristocracy:  ‘turtle-­‐fed  aldermen  and  cotton   lord  mayors’.     The  City  of  London  however  defended  itself  against  these  reforms  longer  than  the  rest  of  the   country  and  remained  an  abyss  'of  Parish  Vestries,  Boards  of  Improvement  Commissions,   Boards  of  Guardians',  -­‐  totalling  over  two  hundred  different  governing  bodies.   1855   Metropolis  Management  Act  formalises  local  government  into  distinct  Parish  Vestries  and   Boards  of  Works.    Civil  responsibilities  of  the  parish  are  passed  to  the  newly  formed   Metropolitan  Board  of  Works.       The  Parish  of  Battersea  is  therefore  no  longer  an  authority  in  its  own  right  but  is  governed  by   Wandsworth  Board  of  Works.     1858   Vestry  of  Battersea  build  Lammas  Hall  with  funds  awarded  to  them  by  the  government  as   compensation  for  the  loss  of  grazing  rights  in  the  newly  established  Battersea  Park.    Having   just  lost  their  control  as  a  Parish,  perhaps  this  was  an  attempt  to  mark  out  a  political  territory   distinct  from  Wandsworth.     1861     Population  of  Battersea:  19,600  
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Population  of  Battersea:  3,365  

 

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 Hasluck,  1948,  p.163-­‐164  

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1863     1864  

Clapham  Junction  railway  opens  

Nassau  Seniors  move  to  Elm  House  on  Lavender  Hill,  later  to  become  the  site  for  the  town   hall:   ‘The  house  had  several  great  English  elms  in  front  of  it;  when  the  family  moved  there  it  was   surrounded  by  fields,  though  during  the  next  ten  years  the  city  crept  rapidly  around  it…[the   house  was]  square  and  deep,  with  a  garden  at  the  back  and  pasture  for  a  couple  of  cows…   Lawns  ran  to  the  distant  boundary,  while  beyond  lay  a  faraway  horizon.    It  was  not  the  sea   that  one  saw  spreading  before  one’s  eyes,  but  the  vast  plateau  of  London,  with  its  drifting   vapours  and  its  ripple  of  housetops  flowing  to  the  meet  the  sky-­‐line.’
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  1871                Population  of  Battersea:  c.54,000     1878   New  building  is  proposed  to  replace  Lammas  Hall,  with  a  hall  capacity  of  1,000.    Scheme  is   abandoned.   1882     1884     1886   Second  scheme  also  abandoned   Population  of  Battersea:  just  over  100,000   Progressives  gain  control  of  Battersea  vestry:  ‘a  shifting  alliance  of  trade  unionists,  socialists,   radicals,  liberals  and  temperance  and  Free  Church  activists  governed  Battersea  first  in  the   vestry,  then  in  the  council.’
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Second  building  proposed  for  £10,000,  half  the  amount  of  the  1878  scheme  

   They  remain  in  power  until  1919,  when  they  are  replaced  by  

the  Labour  Party,  which  apart  from  a  three  year  gap  in  the  1930’s  retained  control  until   Battersea  Borough  ceased  to  exist.     1888   Local  Government  Act  reconstitutes  the  areas  of  the  Metropolitan  Board  of  Works  as  the   County  of  London.    Battersea  becomes  a  schedule  ‘A’  Parish,  meaning  it  is  large  enough  to   merit  its  own  local  government.    The  Vestry  move  from  Lammas  Hall  to  offices  on  Battersea   Rise  and  begin  looking  for  a  site  for  the  new  town  hall.           New  Baptist  Chapel  on  Northcote  Road  in  Battersea  opens,  designed  by  E.W.  Mountford  

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 Thackeray,  Anne,  ‘In  my  Lady’s  Chamber’,  quoted  by  Dorothea  M.  Hughes  in  Memoir  of  Jane  Elizabeth  Senior,  G.H.  Ellis,   Boston,  1916,  p.85   193  Cunningham,  C.,  Victorian  and  Edwardian  Town  Halls,  London,  Boston  and  Henley,  Routledge  and  Kegan  Paul,  1981,   Timeline  of  Town  Halls  in  the  Appendix   194  Loobey,  Patrick,  Battersea  Past,  Historical  Publications,  London  2002,  p.129  

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1889  

Charles  Booth’s  survey  of  London  divides  the  population  into  eight  strands  based  on   earnings.    Battersea  is  predominantly  a  suburb  of  the  skilled  working  class  (38%):  workmen  in   manufacturing  and  transport,  clerks,  shop  workers  and  domestic  servants.    Highly  Paid   Artisan  (19%)  is  the  next  largest  group.  Political  focus  is  naturally  trained  towards  the   conditions  of  the  working  class:  wages,  working  hours,  transport,  the  formation  of  unions.    

 

John  Burns  becomes  the  representative  for  Battersea  on  London  City  Council.    Burns  leads   the  Dockers  Strikes  

  1890     1891   June:  The  two  acre  site  of  Elm  House  Estate  on  Lavender  Hill  is  purchased  for  the  new  town   hall:  motion  proposed  by  Vestryman  Rossiter  and  seconded  by  Vestryman  Charles  Mason,   passed  56:12.  The  estate  was  purchased  for  £8,450,  with  the  total  for  the  building  ‘not  to   exceed  £42,000.’       1892   John  Burns  becomes  MP  for  Battersea  (until  1914)    ‘Did  he  but  show  himself,  Battersea  would  shout  the  roof  of  the  Town  Hall  down  in   clamouring  for  him  to  begin.    Thus  there  is  nothing  for  the  right  honourable  gentleman  to  do   but  hide  himself.    So  here  he  lurks  in  a  dark  little  corner  on  the  crooked  little  staircase  leading   to  the  platform’     1  June:  Committee  accept  the  tender  of  Mr.  W.  Wallis,  the  contract  sum  for  the  erection  of   the  Buildings  was  £26,258.    Building  begins  and  progress  is  extremely  rapid  due  to   ‘exceptionally  fine  weather’
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Battersea  Public  Library  on  Lavender  Hill  opens,  designed  by  E.W.  Mountford  

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 E.W.  Mountford’s  proposal  was  accepted,  he  was  awarded  £150  

19  December:  Ground  Floor  plan  published  in  the  Builder  

,  though  not  without  the  occasional  surprise:  

‘The  fall  in  the  ground  is  so  rapid  that  it  has  been  found  to  be  possible  to  obtain  a  complete   storey  below  the  floor  of  the  Public  Hall,  yet  entirely  above  ground  and  this  although  the  floor   level  of  the  Public  Hall  is  several  feet  below  that  of  the  Municipal  Offices.’ Plans  are  altered  along  the  way:   ‘A  considerable  amount  of  work  which  was  not  included  in  the  selected  design  has  been   carried  out  in  the  course  of  the  erection  of  the  buildings…  this  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the   plans  for  the  Grand  Hall’.       A  simple  balcony  is  added  to  the  Grand  Hall  (increasing  capacity  from  1000  to  1140.    Today   the  capacity  is  800).  
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 Loobey,  Patrick,  Battersea  Past,  Historical  Publications,  London  2002,  p.14    Programme  of  Inauguration,  Battersea  Municipal  Buildings  and  Town  Hall,  15.11.1893,  p.20  (Misc.  File  725.13  BATT),   Battersea  History  Library   197  Programme  of  Inauguration,  Battersea  Municipal  Buildings  and  Town  Hall,  15.11.1893,  p.20  (Misc.  File  725.13  BATT),   Battersea  History  Library  

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July  9 :  Artist’s  view  of  the  principal  staircase  is  published  in  the  Builder     1893   July  8 :  The  elevation  is  published  in  the  Builder  alongside  a  list  of  the  principal  features  of   the  plan  (see  Appendix)   15  November:  Town  Hall  is  opened  by  Lord  Roseberry.    Battersea  had  only  been  a  borough   for  five  years.   MP  for  Battersea  is  John  Burns,  the  first  working  class  person  to  become  a  member  of   parliament.   1894     1896     1897     1900   Council  adopt  the  motto  Non  mihi,  non  tibi,  sed  nobis  (Neither  for  me,  nor  for  you,  but  for  us)   Second  phase  of  works  on  the  town  hall  –  new  staircase  and  landing  added  in  West  wing,   front  half.   The  Shakespeare  Theatre  opens  next  door  to  the  Town  Hall   Battersea  Polytechnic  opens,  designed  by  E.W.  Mountford  
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Work  carried  out  on  the  Retiring  Rooms  and  the  new  Refreshment  Room.    An  

organ  is  commissioned  for  the  Grand  Hall  from  NAME  OF  ORGAN  PEOPLE  
    London  Government  Act:  divides  the  County  of  London  into  28  Metropolitan  Boroughs,   dissolving  the  vestries  and  district  boards  of  works.    The  Parish  of  Saint  Mary  Battersea   becomes  the  Metropolitan  Borough  of  Battersea.    The  Borough  Council  replace  the  vestry.     1901     1902     1903   Town  Hall  Dwellings  are  constructed:  18  tenements  of  two  flats,  equal  to  a  total  of  351   housing  units.     1906     1910     1913     10  November:  Election  of  Britain’s  first  black  mayor  of  a  metropolitan  borough,  John   Archer.  
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Population  of  Battersea  is  168,907  

The  council  decline  to  sign  a  loyal  address  on  Edward  VII’s  coronation  

Emily  Pankhurst  presides  over  meeting  in  Grand  Hall  

Christabel  Pankhurst  presides  over  meeting  in  Grand  Hall  

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1922       1925       1926     1926     1928     1929  

Election  of  Indian,  Communist  Labour  Party  candidate  Shapurji  Saklatava  as  Mayor.   Communist  Party  National  Congress  

Plans  drawn  up  for  proposed  alterations  to  the  Town  Hall   Communist  Party  National  Congress  

Local  headquarters  during  the  General  Strike,  building  remains  open  24  hours  a  day.  

Communist  Party  National  Congress   Mayor  Shapurji  Saklatava  stands  down  following  a  ban  on  communist  Labour  Party   members.  

  1933   Celebration  of  Charlotte  Despard’s  89  Birthday  (an  early  member  of  the  Battersea  Trades   Council,  Labour  Party  and  leader  of  the  Women’s  Freedom  League).     1937   American  singer  Paul  Robeson  appears  at  a  concert  to  celebrate  the  20  anniversary  of  the   founding  of  the  Soviet  Union.     1939     1940   First  bombs  drop  on  Battersea.    Lower  Hall  becomes  centre  for  air  raid  precautions.     ‘Jan  7  1941.    Went  on  the  police  phone.    Had  a  lot  of  bombs  drop  on  Glycena  and  Grayshott   Roads.    They  shook  T.H.’  Elsie  Young’s  Diary.       Grand  Hall  is  used  for  the  distribution  of  gas  masks:     ‘In  1939,  as  did  hundreds  of  other  people,  I  collected  my  gas  mask  from  the  Town  Hall…  None   of  them  seemed  to  fit  very  well…  then  war  came  and  I  was  evacuated  with  my  school  –   Honeywell  Road  –  to  Bognor  Regis,  but  returned  to  hear  the  first  bomb  drop  on  Battersea  in   1940.’       1948     3,000  houses  destroyed  by  bombs  in  Battersea.    Up  to  1948  22,000  houses  received  bomb   damage  repair     Local  Government  Act  enabled  local  authorities  to  spend  a  proportion  of  their  budget  on   entertainment  and  Trevor  Dobinson,  who  worked  as  Deputy  Entertainments  Officer  in  the   early  1960’s  recalled  how  ‘to  some  extent  the  Grand  Hall  replaced  the  role  of  the   Shakespeare  Theatre.’   Doris  Nichols  wins  fight  for  equal  pay  of  town  hall  workers,  regardless  of  sex.  
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  1949     Barbara  Hayr  becomes  a  Tory  Councillor  and  recalls  voting  in  the  Lower  Hall  with  her  mother:     “She  said  ‘Now,  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  when  you  grow  up  you  will  always  vote  in  an   election.    We  had  to  fight  so  hard  to  get  the  vote,  so  you  must  never  waste  it.’”     1957     Shakespeare  Theatre  is  demolished  due  to  bomb  damage.    Replaced  with  an  office  block   (now  Foxtons).   1960     1963     1965     31  March:  The  last  meeting  is  held  in  the  Battersea  Town  Hall  Council  Chamber.    The   councillors  move  offices  to  Wandsworth  Town  Hall.     1967   2  June:  South  Western  Star  announces  that  Battersea  Town  Hall  is  to  be  chopped  in  two,   partially  demolished  and  replaced  by  a  new  swimming  pool  and  library.  The  design,  by  the   Borough  Architect  L.  Phillips,  replaced  the  Victorian  frontage  and  extended  onto  the  site  of   the  old  Shakespeare  Theatre,  leaving  only  the  Grand  Hall  intact.  ‘the  cost  of  keeping  the   council  chambers  and  other  rooms  open  was  heavy  and  they  were  not  being  used  by  any   other  organisation  in  the  borough.’
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Population  of  Battersea:  c.100,000  

London  Government  Act  dissolves  Battersea  Borough  into  Wandsworth  Borough  Council.  

 Alderman  Sidney  Sporle,  Leader  of  the  Council  

revealed  plans  to  build  a  swimming  pool  and  library  on  the  site  to  provide  better  facilities   and  release  the  sites  of  old  Central  Library  on  Lavender  Hill  and  the  Latchmere  Baths,   releasing  land  valued  at  nearly  £1.5  million  for  redevelopment.     16  June:  Battersea  Society  form  a  movement  to  rescue  the  Town  Hall:  ‘Battersea  Town  Hall   is  not  going  to  be  chopped  in  half  without  a  struggle  on  the  part  of  the  Battersea  Society’ There  was  a  fear  that  Battersea’s  identity  would  be  lost:     ‘Consciously  or  sub-­‐consciously  the  present  council’s  real  motive  is  to  remove  the  last   remaining  municipal  reminder  of  the  old  borough  of  Battersea  in  order  to  stamp  their  own   authority  on  the  district.’   16  June:  Nikolaus  Pevsner  writes  to  Wandsworth  Borough  Council:     ‘I  know  Battersea  Town  Hall  well  and  I  would,  not  only  as  Chairman  of  the  Victorian  Society,   but  also  personally,  be  very  perturbed  if  it  were  true  that  there  are  plans  for  demolition.’
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 No  one  wants  to  use  council  chamber,  Battersea  Town  Hall  to  be  chopped  in  two,  South  Western  Star,  2.6.1967    Anon.,  Town  Hall’s  famous  façade  must  go,  South  London  Press,  26.9.1967   200  They  will  fight  to  save  the  old  Town  Hall,  South  Western  Star,  16.6.1967   201  Eleventh-­‐hour  reprieve  for  Town  Hall  being  sought,  South  Western  Star,  14.7.1967   202  Pevsner,  N.,  Letter  from  Victorian  Society,  16.6.1967,  Misc.  File  725.13  BATT,  Battersea  History  Library  

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  21  June:  John  Betjeman  writes  to  Wandsworth  Borough  Council:     ‘This  Town  Hall,  particularly  inside,  is  what  a  Town  Hall  ought  to  be.    It  lifts  you  up.    It  has   scale  and  it  is  irreplaceable.’   July:  Councillor  Sendall  stated  that  the  Labour  majority  on  the  old  Battersea  council  had   spent  large  amounts  of  money  on  the  offices  inside  the  Town  Hall  just  before  the  merger   with  WBC.  He  questioned  what  had  happened  to  their  ideas  for  its  future  use.    Alderman   Sporle  responded  that  the  circumstances  were  now  different.   21  July:  Battersea  Society  wrote  an  open  letter  to  Wandsworth  Council,  challenging  them  to   debate  their  plans  for  the  Town  Hall  in  public:   ‘As  a  suggestion  the  motion  to  be  debated  might  be  ‘That  now  is  the  time  to  pull  down  the   front  of  Battersea  Town  Hall.  For:  A  representative  of  the  Wandsworth  Borough  Council.     Against:  A  representative  of  Battersea  Society.’   August:  It  is  revealed  that  Wandsworth  Borough  Council  have  neither  the  funds  nor   permissions  to  build  the  plans  that  have  been  drawn  up  for  the  site.    The  Town  Hall  will  be   knocked  down  to  create  a  potential  site:  ‘the  council  has  been  advised  by  the  Government  to   continue  with  its  plans  on  the  basis  that  when  the  present  restrictions  end,  councils  with  sites   and  plans  ready  will  be  the  first  to  get  approval.’     Autumn:  WBC  remain  determined  to  execute  their  plans:  ‘Wandsworth  Council  has  finally   decided  that  Battersea  Town  Hall  frontage  must  –  and  will  –  come  down.’
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Leader  of  the  Council  Alderman  Sporle  stated  that  ‘he  would  regret  the  passing  of  the  old   council  offices  as  much  as  any  other  member  of  the  old  Battersea  council  but  he  would  not   allow  emotion…  to  colour  his  judgement’.
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1  September:  Local  surveyor  Neville  Rayner  writes  to  PM  Harold  Wilson:  ‘[Battersea’s]   pride,  affection  and  closely  knit  community  life  has,  for  over  half  a  century,  centred  round  this   Town  Hall  as  a  focal  point…  The  architectural  qualities  of  the  façade  are  of  a  very  high   standard  and,  apart  from  the  community  factors  already  mentioned,  would  be  an   architectural  loss  to  London.’
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 Copy  of  letter  from  John  Betjeman,  21.6.1967,  Misc.  File  725.13  BATT,  Battersea  History  Library    Anon.,  Town  hall  baths  scheme  goes  on,  Clapham  News  –  Observer,  4.8.1967   205  Open  letter  by  Battersea  Society:  Council  challenged  to  debate  its  Town  Hall  plan,  South  Western  Star,  21.7.1967   206  Anon.,  Victorian  relic  goes  –  to  free  valuable  land,  The  Evening  News,  25.9.1967   207  Anon.,  Ald.  Sporle  not  convinced  there  is  much  concern,  South  Western  Star,  4.8.1967   208  Rayner,  N.,  Prime  Minister  invited  to  intervene,  South  Western  Star,  1.9.1967  

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18  September:  an  official  application  is  made  by  the  Battersea  Society  to  the  Historic   Building  Committee  of  the  Greater  London  Council  for  a  preservation  order  to  be  placed  on   the  building.    The  Housing  Minister,  Anthony  Greenwood,  is  advised  that  the  Town  Hall   should  be  listed  as  of  special  architectural  and  historic  interest.    He  requests  that  WBC   reconsider  its  plans  in  light  of  this.   25  September:  Alderman  Sporle  convenes  a  meeting  of  the  Ad  Hoc  Committee  to  consider   the  Housing  Minister’s  letter:  ‘I  will  personally  do  my  best  at  the  meeting  to  ensure  that  the   architectural  merits  are  considered  in  any  future  decision  about  the  Town  Hall’s  future.’   29  September:  Sporle  confirms  that  despite  local  pressure  over  the  summer  months  ‘it   must  and  will  come  down’.
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 The  theme  of  the  meeting  is  ‘sentiment  must  not  be  allowed  

to  stand  in  the  way  of  progress.’  Sporle  says:  ‘People  die  and  we  bury  the  body  but  do  not   forget  the  person.    The  same  thing  happens  to  old  buildings,  we  have  to  look  to  the   future.’   October:  Debate  over  the  Town  Hall’s  architectural  merit:     Councillor  Jim  Carrana:  The  Town  Hall  is  ‘a  reflection  of  past  poverty…poor  and  cheap.’     Ex-­‐councillor  D.G.  Adams:  ‘Those  who  are  against  demolition  of  any  part  of  it  don’t  say  that  it   is  beautiful  and  they  didn’t  gather  4,500  signatures  to  prove  it.  [The  Town  Hall  was  built  in   times  of]  extreme  hunger  and  privation…  therefore  our  town  hall  was  not  a  creative  beauty.     It  was  staid,  but  it  meant  something  to  Battersea.’
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‘The  town  hall  may  not  be  London’s  most  beautiful  building,  but  it  does  possess  a  certain   ponderous  charm  not  usually  found  in  late  Victorian  buildings.’   11  October:  Harold  Wilson  replies  to  Neville  Rayner’s  letter,  saying  that  the  town  hall  had   been  inspected  and  ‘it  is  now  agreed  that  it  is  a  building  of  considerable  architectural   distinction  which  merits  inclusion  in  the  statutory  list…  I  hope  that  this  will  ensure  the   possibility  of  retaining  the  existing  building…’
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December:  Meeting  of  the  Ad-­‐hoc  Committee  in  which  it  is  expected  the  future  of  the  site   will  be  decided.  There  is  a  general  discussion  but  they  end  the  meeting  with  ‘nothing  to   report’.
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 Anon.,  Town  Hall’s  famous  façade  must  go,  South  London  Press,  26.9.1967    Anon.,  Town  Hall  controversy:  sentiment  must  not  stand  in  the  way  of  progress,  South  Western  Star,  29.9.1967   211  Adams,  D.G.,  What  the  Town  Hall  means  to  an  ex-­‐councillor,  South  Western  Star,  20.10.1967   212  Anon.,  Opinion,  South  Western  Star,  13.10.1967   213  Anon.,  Wilson’s  help  saves  ‘heart’  of  Battersea,  Daily  Telegraph,  11.10.1967   214  Anon,  Page  one  opinion,  South  Western  Star,  8.12.1967  

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1968  

May:  Labour-­‐led  council’s  election  documents  states:  ‘Provided  it  is  not  held  back  by   reactionary  elements  locally,  aiming  to  preserve  an  architectural  monstrosity,  the  overall  re-­‐ planning  of  the  site  can  provide  a  really  up  to  date  and  impressive  cultural  and  leisure  centre   for  Battersea.’
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   Labour  lose  the  1968  election.  

  September:  Tory-­‐led  council  have  still  failed  to  come  up  with  a  solution:  ‘Isn’t  it  about  time   that  we  were  given  a  final  once  and  for  all  decision  about  the  future  of  this  building?’     29  December:  Council  announce  that  the  building  will  be  preserved,  but  no  indication  is   made  as  to  its  proposed  use.  They  plan  to  lease  the  old  Town  Hall  to  the  Institute  of   Production  Engineers  as  their  headquarters,  but  this  falls  through.    The  building  remains   empty.       1970     May:  Labour  return  to  power  and  a  community  arts  centre  is  proposed:  studios,  exhibition   galleries,  a  pottery,  a  dark  room,  rehearsal  and  meeting  rooms  intended  for  use  by  local   community  and  cultural  groups,  from  theatre  and  musical  groups  to  the  local  history  society   and  pigeon  fanciers. 1974     1973   June:  Works  begin  to  convert  the  town  hall  into  an  arts  centre     1974   15  November:  Building  is  re-­‐opened  as  Battersea  Town  Hall  –  community  centre.    The  Chief   Executive  is  Mr.  Brian  Harris.   February:  Time  Out  publish  an  article  questioning  Wandsworth’s  thinking:     ‘We  should  be  asking…  why  Arts  Centres  continue  to  be  built  or  converted  with  no  positive   idea  of  what  they  are  for  or  who  will  be  using  them…  Wandsworth  will  launch  its   reconstituted  Town  Hall  /  Arts  Centre  –  inevitably  the  usual  problems  will  occur:  lack  of   finance,  lack  of  direction,  confused  thinking  about  why  it  didn’t  work  as  any  of  them   expected.’
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13  February:  Battersea  Community  Arts  Centre  is  listed  Grade  II*  

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 £109,000  was  put  aside  to  redevelop  the  spaces.  Due  to  autumn  

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 Anon.,  They  don’t  talk  about  THEM,  South  Western  Star,  29.  3.1968    Linton,  M.,  Decision  after  eight  year’s  headache:  £109,000  cultural  centre  planned  for  Town  Hall,  South  Western  Star,   30.10.1970   217  Anon.,  Nothing  Too  Arty,  Time  Out  n.154,  Feb  2-­‐8  1974,  p.16-­‐17  

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  1977   May  to  November:  Battersea  Town  Hall  –  community  centre  closes  for  seven  months   renovation  work.    The  stud  walls  in  the  gallery  are  knocked  down  to  create  one  large  room,  a   bar  is  built  in  the  adjacent  room  and  the  café  is  stripped  out  and  reconfigured.     December:  Andrew  Wells,  chairman  of  North  Battersea  Conservative  Association  attacked   the  Council  for  its  ‘ridiculous  waste  on  namby-­‐pamby  art  and  recreation…  we  will  cut  down   on  unnecessary  expenditure  and  aspects  of  the  arts  centre  are  unnecessary’.
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   Councillor  

Martin  Linton,  Chairman  of  the  Entertainments  committee  and  instrumental  in  opening  the   arts  centre  in  1974  warns:  ‘If  they  [Tories]  get  a  majority  in  May  we  will  see  mindless  acts  of   vandalism  in  the  council  chamber.’     1978   May:  The  Tories  return  to  power  in  May  of  1978  and  begin  making  moves  to  have  the  centre   closed  as  part  of  a  wide  range  of  expenses  cuts.     1980   March:  The  council  withdraw  the  £150,000  p.a.  grant  and  the  building  closes.     June:  The  Friends  of  Battersea  Arts  Centre    is  formed.    A  deputation  from  the  Friends  of   Battersea  Arts  Centre  address  Wandsworth’s  recreation  committee,  after  which  it  is   recommended  that  investigations  into  outside  sources  of  funding  go  ahead.  It  is  finally   agreed  that  the  arts  centre  will  become  an  independent  organisation  with  the  Borough   Council  providing  an  annual  grant  and  subsidised  rent  to  cover  running  costs.  The  Battersea   Arts  Centre  Trust  is  formed,  chaired  by  Martin  Linton.    They  make  an  application  to  the   council  for  £40,633  to  reopen  the  arts  centre.    They  are  awarded  £35,000.      The  Council   continue  to  run  the  Grand  and  Lower  Halls  as  a  separate  enterprise.     1981   January:  The  building  is  re-­‐opened  under  the  artistic  directorship  of  Jude  Kelly,  with  a  new   identity:  ‘BAC’.   Wandsworth  Pensioner’s  Talent  Contest     1982   Conversion  works  including:  children’s  cinema,  pottery  wheels,  disabled  dark  room,  dance   studio  and  the  café  stage.  Council  chamber  converted  into  the  ‘main  house’,     1985   17  May:  Princess  Diana  visits  BAC  to  open  the  newly  refurbished  Studio  One   Jude  Kelly  leaves  BAC  for  the  Royal  Shakespeare  Company.    In  1990  she  becomes  the  first   Artistic  Director  of  the  West  Yorkshire  Playhouse  and  in  2005  the  Artistic  Director  of  the   South  Bank  Centre.     1987  
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Timothy  Ronalds  Architects  work  on  the  building:  

 Donn,  T.,  Clapham  News,  9.12.1977  

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February  –  May:  Adaptations  carried  out  to  the  Council  Chamber  ancillary  spaces  to  convert   them  into  dressing  rooms.   April  –  May:  Council  Chamber  conversion,  installation  of  retractable  seating  rake.     1988     1988     1990     1995   Paul  Blackman  leaves  BAC  to  become  a  freelance  producer  (for  the  Roundhouse,  then   National  Youth  Theatre)       1996     £10,000  spent  on  improvements   Small  Lottery  Grant  for  minor  works  and  feasibility  study  for  £5  million  developments   Design  Competition  won  by  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects.    Designs  drawn  up  for  renovated   Council  Chamber,  three  new  studio  theatres  and  seating  in  the  Grand  Hall.     1997     Receives  second  sum  of  lottery  money  and  agrees  ten-­‐year  lease  with  the  council   £60,000  spent  on  renovating  the  glass  dome  over  the  Grand  Hall  Foyer  Plans  developed  for   £12  million  project.       ACE  ask  BAC  to  come  back  with  plans  for  a  £2  millions  project.    Lottery  funds  are  drying  up.       1998     1999   March:  BAC  is  accepted  onto  the  Arts  Council’s  Recovery    and  Stabilisation  Programme:     ‘The  Recovery  programme,  launched  in  March  1999,  was  for  mid  to  large-­‐scale  arts   organisations  in  danger  of  imminent  insolvency.  It  helped  organisations  develop  turnaround   strategies,  working  with  their  key  stakeholders.’
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Tony  Fegan  leaves  BAC.    In  1991  he  becomes  Director  of  Learning  at  LIFT  

Jane  Dawson,  previously  General  Manager  of  BAC,  becomes  Director.   October:  Paul  Blackman  becomes  Artistic  Director  

1  May:  Tom  Morris  becomes  Artistic  Director  of  BAC  

Tom  Morris  discovers  BAC’s  deficit  is  much  larger  than  they  thought.    The  Finance  Manager   quits  and  BAC  is  forced  to  go  through  major  organisational  restructuring  at  SMT  level.  

Receives  £275,000  to  make  the  building  more  accessible  

 

September:  David  Jubb  comes  from  running  the  Lion  and  Unicorn  Theatre  to  work  at  BAC  as   Development  Producer     2000    
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Beginning  of  Scratch  Nights  as  part  of  the  Ladder  of  Development  

 http://www.artscouncil.org.uk/funding/stabilisation.php    

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2001        

Wandsworth  Borough  Council  grant  increases  from  £126,000  to  £425,065   David  Jubb  leaves  BAC  to  become  a  freelance  Producer  

 

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Appendix  4     Design  walk  around  BAC  for  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  23  November  2006     Present:  Steve  Tompkins,  Felix  Barrett,  David  Jubb,  Laura  McDermott,  later  joined  by  Anna  Martin  and   Rosie  Hunter.         We  decided  to  record  the  conversation  between  Steve  Tompkins  and  Felix  Barrett  as  they  walked   around  BAC’s  building  for  the  first  time  together.    The  idea  was  the  capture  the  initial,  raw   impressions  and  gut  reactions  to  the  space  and  to  each  other’s  ideas  –  it  was  thought  that  these   would  prove  to  be  invaluable  points  of  reference  later  on  in  the  project.    Steve  wanted  the  chat  to  be   free-­‐flowing  and  not  particularly  guided  by  our  agenda.    He  was  interested  in  reversing  the  usual   process  of  his  job  –  an  artist  walking  into  a  building  that  has  been  ‘architected’  –  and  having  an  artist   led  walk  around  BAC.         [  Steve’s  story  of  a  legendary  party  in  the  ruined  lobby  of  Mr  Eiffel’s  mansion  ]       S:  You  mentioned  that  the  audience  will  be  coming  in  together  –  or  will  they  be  fed  in  separately?     F:  It’ll  be  the  same  principles  as  Faust  but  with  this  there  will  probably  be  lots  of  different  entrance   points  –  so  it  really  is  a  start  as  an  individual.    Like  Faust  where  there  was  a  scene  in  the  basement   when  it  finished  and  everyone  is  then  led  through  to  the  bar  –  we’ll  work  on  a  similar  principle  to  that   –  everyone  surges  into  the  great  hall  as  one.    Also  –  there  will  be  a  separate  audience  who  are  there   purely  for  the  great  hall.    That  impact  when  you  start  off  as  an  individual  and  then  walk  into  the  party   and  it’s  already  going  on  -­‐  it’s  already  brimming  with  people  in  hats,  masks,  bits  of  costume.    The   realisation  that  it’s  bigger  than  you  realised.     But  coming  back  to  this  space  –  I  had  a  vision  of  dust,  grass,  creepers  coming  up  and  trees  –  so  you   really  feel  the  size  of  the  space  and  you  can’t  actually  see  down  to  the  ground  –  you  just  get  a  view  of   a  canopy.     D:  So  you  don’t  get  a  sense  of  where  the  floor  is.     F:  No.    You  know  what  you  were  saying  about  the  wires,  on  this  wall  –  if  we  have  a  wall  of  lights  -­‐     S:  -­‐  Lights  that  just  shoot  -­‐       F:  -­‐  from  floor  to  ceiling  which  is  also  constantly  changing  so  they’re  never  static,  the  colour’s  always   revolving.     S:  Are  we  allowed  fire  in  this  building?     D:  Yes.     F:  Are  we?!    
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D:  Yeah,  I  mean  obviously  within  the  context  of  any  risk  assessment  there  have  to  be  measures  put  in   place…     S:  Because  the  thing  I  noticed  about  these  plans  is  just  how  many  fireplaces  there  are.     F:  That  would  be…     S:  It  goes  back  to  Mr  Eiffel’s  mansion  …  every  room  had  a  fireplace  in  it  so  you  walk  in  and  you’re  just   –       F:  We  did  this  production  of  Woyzceck  which  was  lit  purely  with  candles  and  fire  -­‐  an  old  barracks  –   there  was  no  other  light  source  –  it  was  just…     S:  We  should  really  go  back  250  years     F:  …sledgehammer  and  torches…     [laugh]     F:  So  all  these  offices  have  fireplaces?     D:  Really,  I  don’t  know  –  we  went  in  search  of  a  working  fireplace  quite  recently  for  Geraldine   Pilgrim’s  project  in  the  Fire  of  London  –  she  wanted  to  use  a  fireplace  for  her  piece.     S:  [looking  at  plans,  counting]  8  –  even  though  they  may  not  be  there,  in  fact  –  the  flumes  will  still  be   there,  so  in  fact  –  you  could  put  a  fireplace  in.     D:  That  would  be  great.     F:  That  would  be  amazing.     S:  You  probably  only  need  people  like  your  shadowy  people  in  the  background,  just  lurking  there  –   watching  the  fire.         F:  Yes.    It’s  easy  to  get  a  chimney  sorted  out,  isn’t  it?     S:  Yes  you  just  sweep  it,  you  might  have  to  put  a  chimney  pot  on  it  but  that’s  what’s  so  good  about   the  process  –  then  you’ve  got  chimneys  that  work  and  maybe  you  put  a  wood  burner  in  –  maybe  in   your  office?     D:  That’s  really  exciting  because  it’s  also  linked  to  the  idea  of  the  legacies  of  each  one  of  these   projects  –  because  you  know  one  the  big  reasons  we’re  doing  this  –  how  our  very  first  conversations   started  –  which  was  about  reinventing  arts  buildings  and  reinventing  how  they  look  and  feel  and  what   kind  of  –  the  idea  is  that  each  one  of  these  projects  –  within  the  scope  of  the  project  what  was  a  fire   might  become  a  wood  burner  at  the  end  of  the  project  and  leave  an  artist  kitchen  –  a  staff  kitchen   and  so  on.        

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F:  the  intimacy  that  would  come  from  that  forever  more…     S:  I’ve  always  thought  that  every  green  room  should  have  a  fireplace.    Also  –  we  were  saying  earlier   that  wouldn’t  it  be  great  if  the  building  had  a  budget  each  year  and  it’s  not  called  the  maintenance   budget  it’s  not  all  for  building  fabrics  –  it  was  just  money  that  could  be  spent  on  BAC.    If  you’re   intelligent  and  responsible  enough  with  how  it’s  allocated  you  can  use  the  show  budget  –  the  show   decorates  the  building  and  you  keep  some  and  get  rid  of  what  you  don’t  want.     Imagine,  for  example  –  this  space  to  me  [standing  on  main  staircase,  looking  at  wall  of  main  house]  –  I   was  saying  earlier  –  it  feels  like  half  a  space  –  there’s  a  really  interesting  sense  of  –  what’s  going  on   here?    What  if  it  there  was  just  a  really  badly  foxed  mirror  the  whole  of  these  three  panels  so  you   suddenly  get  a  sense  of  this  fantastic,  almost  circular  space  with  this  enormous  circular  stair  so  you   stand  there  and  you  see  your  distorted,  faded  reflection.    The  place  I  stayed  in  Venice  last  week,  on   the  stair  landing  as  you  came  down  they  just  had  this  almost  shrine  like  mirror  and  it  was  really   distressed  with  a  huge  fissure  down  the  middle  so  your  reflection  had  a  fuzzy  black  line  right  down   the  middle  of  your  face  and  body  it  was  a  really  eerie  experience,  very  very  strange,  incredible   compelling.    I  think  in  a  space  like  this  instead  of  those  horrid  corporate  uplighters  –  just  dangle  a   dusty  lightbulb  there  and  have  some  candles  –  maybe  three  of  four  just  in  front  of  the  mirrors  just   flickering  away  –  there’s  an  immanent  trace  of  what  is  happening  behind.         F:  Yeah  –  you  know  you  get  those  faded  mirrors  with  Victorian  glass,  and  sometimes  you  check   yourself  in  them,  you  can’t  quite  work  out…     D:  They  give  a  slightly  different  way  of  seeing…     F:  …what’s  through  it…     S:  …Because  you  see  the  plane  of  the  reflection  and  then  you  see  the  space  beyond  it  –  it’s  like   looking  through  a  gauze  or  something.         F:  Practically,  the  main  house  has  to  be  a  space  that  can  absorb  lots  of  people  and  so  probably  in   terms  of  source  material  it  will  be  some  sort  of  a  music  hall  or  Parisian  -­‐    some  sort  of  old  theatre  with   a  vast  list  of  cabaret  acts,  and  if  you  can  see  into  that…     S:  Exactly     F:  So  you  can’t  hear  anything  but  if  you  could  see  through  it  would  be  so  lovely.     S:  To  see  through  a  mirror.    We  did  some  work  with  an  artist  called  Dan  Graham  who  did  an  exhibition   at  the  Hayward  Gallery  and  the  thing  he  deals  with  is  semi-­‐reflective  glass  so  you  think  you’re  looking   at  a  reflection  but  you  realise  you’re  not.    It’s  a  bit  like  that  thing  in  with  Shunt  in  the  vault.     D:  This  is  what  it  reminded  me  of  –  that  feeling  of  distress  –  I’m  there  but  I  can’t  quite  place  myself.     S:  Because  directly  beyond  that  panel  is  the  main  window  out  onto  the  street  –  if  you  put  soundproof   glass  in  there  and  then  put  a  mirror  here.    So  you’re  standing  here  and  you  see  the  impression  of   daylight  on  the  glass,  but  look  behind  you  and  actually  there  is  no  daylight.    There’s  this  sort  of   complicated  weirdness  going  on.        

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D:  Yeah  that’s  very  interesting.     S:  And  maybe  taking  a  blowtorch  to  everything  that  isn’t  stone  and  ripping  out  all  the  light  fittings…     F:  When  you  say  taking  a  blowtorch  –  do  you  mean  just  totally  distressing  it  or  do  you  mean  just   taking  it  all  off.     S:  Maybe  just  scrape  it  all  off  and  see  how  much  else  you  want  to  put  back.     F:  If  we  were  to  do  something  we’d  probably  have  some  kind  of  crackleglaze  so  it’s  all  kind  of  hanging   off…     S:  Or  maybe  just  taking  some  nitrise  to  it  and  see  what  genuine  stories  lie  underneath.    Because   suddenly  if  you  start  to  merge  the  real  architecture  –  the  permanent  architecture  –  with  the   scenographics  then  you  can  choose  what’s  authentic  and  what’s  not.         F:  Completely.     S:  I’m  trying  to  figure  out  if  this  is  redecorating  of  the  mouldings  or  whether  it’s  just  a  paint  job.         D:  I  think  it’s  the  mouldings.    I  think  the  paint  job  was…  late  90’s?    I  think  they  did  it  at  the  same  time   as  they  were  trying  to  recreate  the  spirit  of  the  building  –  I  think  it  was  one  of  those  heritage   attempts…     S:  I  love  the  idea  of  you  coming  into  what  really  feels  like  the  town  hall  and  a  performance   happening.    The  whole  of  the  trace  of  it  being  an  arts  centre  –  the  idea  that  there  had  been   performance  here  before  -­‐  is  sort  of  expunged.         F:  Is  that  a  BAC  pane  of  glass?     D:  I  think  all  that  was  done  at  the  time  of  the  paint  job.     S:  All  that  has  to  go.     F:  Or  if  we  keep  it  we  could  totally  deface  it…     S:  Spray  over  it…     F:  I  always  find  it  frustrating  looking  up  to  see  all  those  opaque  squares.     D:  And  if  you  look  up  there  not  the  first  set  of  windows,  but  the  thin  ones  –  can  you  see  something   flickering?     F:  Is  that  the  fan?     D:  Yes  –  it’s  totally  beautiful  -­‐  whenever  I  look  up  and  the  windows  have  been  removed  I  think  oh  my   god  –  it’s  really  exciting.    

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F:  It  would  be  great  to  put  a  light  source  up  there  so  at  points  you  could  blast  something  through   there  so  you  can  just  see  this  big  mechanical  structure.         S:  I  watched  lots  of  my  old  Roger  Corman  films  the  other  day.    They  are  a  series  of  Poe  films  –  genuine   B-­‐movies.         F:  I  was  keen  to  talk  to  you  about  the  rehearsal  studio  over  there  –  it’s  got  loads  of  walls  in  it.     S:  Yes,  flimsy  pre-­‐fab,  arts  centre  pre-­‐fab.     F:  You  can’t  really  see  the  shape  of  the  space  –  they  flatten  it  –  you  can’t  see  the  ridges.     S:  What  are  these  lights  –  they  look  like  flying  saucers?     D:  Yes,  again,  I  think  these  were  done  at  the  time  of  the  re-­‐fit  –  there  was  a  point  where  the  main   house  was  refitted  ’91  or  ’92.         S:  I  think  we  shouldn’t  have  any  lights  coming  out  of  the  ceiling  we  should  just  sling  a  cable  and   maybe  drill  some  hooks  and  just  loop  the  cable  and  just  dangle  builders  lights  or  lightbulbs  where   they’re  needed,  if  anything.         D:  I  was  saying  to  Felix  earlier,  artists  must  come  in  to  newly  refurbished  buildings  and  think  ‘What  –   50  or  60  production  budgets?!’  and  for  what  –  all  you’ve  actually  done  is  just  made  it  more  difficult  to   do  a  piece  of  work.     [now  in  the  pre-­‐fab  city  at  the  back  of  Studio  6]     D:  There’s  a  massive  void  above  this  whole  side  of  the  building.    You  know  when  you  go  up  to  the  attic   corridor,  you  walk  along  those  offices  –  that’s  all  been  filled  and  on  this  side  of  the  building  it  basically   doesn’t  exist.    So  there’s  the  same  on  this  footprint  on  this  side.    So  it’s  one  of  the  unexploited  spaces   –  above  that  main  house  dressing  room.         [Anna  Martin  and  Rosie  Hunter  enter]     Can  you  walk  in  the  roof  void,  Anna?     A:  No     D:  Can  you  crawl?     A:  I’ve  never  been  up  there  myself,  I  suspect  you  can  probably  crawl…     S:  How  listed  are  we?     All:  2  star.     D:  This  gets  more  and  more  pre-­‐fab  the  more  you  go  round.    

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A:  All  this  is  a  mess  –  all  these  offices  are  constructed  –  people  get  partition  happy.       D:  Pre-­‐fab  heaven!     S:  This  is  interesting  for  you,  isn’t  it  Felix?     F:  The  smaller  spaces  are  actually  quite  good  –  this  is  where  it  gets  labyrinthine  here.    Equally  –  there   aren’t  really  any  big  open  spaces  here  apart  from  that  room  and  the  studios.    And  I  suppose  there’s   the  gallery.     S:  Have  you  got  an  accurate  drawing  of  the  building  as  it’s  currently  used?     A:  Yes,  we’ve  got  some  fairly  recent  plans.     S:  It  would  be  great  to  get  some  copies  –  I’ve  been  looking  at  the  original  drawings  and  the  drawings   from  when  it  was  a  council  chamber.         [to  Felix]  When  you  did  Faust  did  you  just  work  with  technical  structures  –  hanging  loose  wires  and   cables  and  so  on?     F:  Yes,  that’s  all  we  had  the  budget  and  man  power  to  do.     S:  [to  Anna]  How  does  your  technical  structure  in  the  building  work  at  the  moment?    Are  you  fixed   permanent  mains.     A:  All  the  cabling  is  a  mix.    I  think  they’ve  been  up  into  the  roof  void  at  points  when  they  cabled  more   recently.     S:  If  you  were  going  to  go  promenade  through  the  whole  building  –  I  guess  your  present  technical   infrastructure  doesn’t  stretch  beyond  the  current  performance  spaces.         A:  No,  it’d  have  to  be  rewired.         S:  That  might  be  the  most  important  part  of  this  joint  collaborative  project  –  making  the  building  work   in  all  parts  -­‐  so  it  just  plugs  in  for  sound  and  light.    One  version  that  I  was  pondering  about  was  using   the  whole  of  the  first  floor  as  an  auditorium  that  had  partitions  fireplaces  and  stairs  within  it  –  you   could  just  walk  up  into  it.    It’s  a  prairie  of  existing  spaces  and  performance  spaces  that’s  got  a   technical  infrastructure  in  there.    And  the  roof  voids  and  attic  spaces  are  there  too.    And  maybe  the   social  and  support  spaces  and  the  workshop  spaces  are  on  the  ground  floor.    You  get  a  sense  as  you   come  in  the  door  that  what  the  building  wants  you  to  do  is  go  straight  up  to  the  first  floor  where  all   the  grand  rooms  are.    Maybe  all  the  stuff  that’s  up  here  on  the  first  floor  just  needs  to  drop  down.     And  we  leave  this  almost  like  a  derelict  building  that  happens  to  have  really  really  good  wiring  in  it.     Reverse  the  polarity  of  the  building  so  it  just  looks  knackered,  but  it  so  isn’t.         A:  We  have  major  issues  with  the  wiring  throughout  the  building.     S:  It’s  the  thing  that’s  just  on  the  point  of  collapse,  isn’t  it?    

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A:  Yes.     S:  There’s  every  reason  to  say  we  can’t  carry  on  unless  we  do  this.    In  doing  this,  we  could  either   rewire,  or  we  could  think  ‘What  if  this  was  a  performance  budget?  –  how  could  we  rewire’  That  seems   really  exciting  to  me.    It  means  this  all  becomes  a  performance  space.    The  best  moment  for  me  in   Faust  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairwell  when  there  someone  being  dragged  out.     F:  Yes,  all  the  heads.     S:  Just  to  come  across  it  –  I  immediately  snapped  back  to  this.    And  there’s  the  other  staircase  with   the  solid  balustrade  and  the  slightly  ornate  gilded  bit.         D:  The  main  house  staircase?       [No  –  Steve  means  the  staircase  to  the  Mezz  Room.    We  go  through  the  ‘magic  door’  to  halls  side.     Looking  out  through  a  window  towards  roof  void  of  the  grand  hall  and  glass  dome]     S:  I  was  imagining  we  could  make  a  door  here  –  and  make  some  barriers  to  protect  the  glass  so  you   could  promenade  outside  [on  the  flat  roof].    I  was  thinking  about  the  courtyard  too.    On  the  original   drawing  it’s  just  a  clean  space  and  it  doesn’t  have  any  of  the  cumulative  junk  in  it.    The  way  to  beat   the  listing  worries  is  to  get  it  more  and  more  back  to  what  it  was,  so  you’re  actually  turning  the   argument  back  on  itself.    “We’re  taking  out  all  the  things  that  you  were  worried  about.    What  you   listed  was  the  original  building  and  that’s  what  we  want  as  well”.     D:  Which  gives  you  a  little  bit  of  room  as  well.     S:  Exactly  –  you’ve  got  negotiating  space  because  you’re  doing  so  much  in  their  favour  –  on  the  credit   side  you’ve  got  this  enormous  list  of  removals  -­‐  you  can  afford  one  or  two  braver  things.     D:  Genius.     A:  Andrew  was  saying  the  other  day  about  the  Lower  Hall  and  the  foyer.    They  have  a  suspended   ceiling  down  there  but  behind  it  it’s  all  high  ceilings  and  moulded.    There’s  lovely  stuff  behind  it  if  we   can  rip  it  all  out.             S:  It’s  the  underworld  isn’t  it?  –  the  sort  of  scuzzy  1960’s  underworld  –  cloakrooms  and  things  –  it’s   brilliant  -­‐  it’s  so  melancholic.    But  again  the  possibilities  of  lighting  could  transform  all  these  spaces.     [looking  over  the  roof  again,  pointing  over  to  a  door]  I  forget  where  that  door  does?     A:  It  goes  up  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  to  where  you  come  into  the  balcony  in  the  grand  hall.     S:  And  the  attic  space  on  this  side,  with  that  little  runway  –  it’s  got  to  go.     F:  What’s  the  attic  over  –  is  it  the  Puppet  Centre?     S:  What’s  the  story  with  the  Puppet  Centre?    

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D:  In  terms  of  what  –  in  terms  of  how  we  use  the  space?     S:  Is  that  always  the  Puppet  Centre?     D:  It  is  at  the  moment  but  one  of  the  ambitions  of  the  project  is  to  re-­‐imagine  the  entire  space  so   we’ll  be  having  some  interesting  conversations  with  resident  companies  over  the  next  six  months.    I   think  the  Puppet  Centre  will  be  one  of  the  most  flexible  in  terms  of  wanting  to  be  involved.    If  we  can   find  what  might  be  workspaces  or  something  during  the  day  so  that  people  can  still  rehearse  and  stuff   –  and  provide  that  flexibility,  then  I  think  that’s  not  going  to  be  an  issue.         S:  How  many  performers  would  be  working  simultaneously  or  do  you  imagine  could  be  working   simultaneously  on  different  productions  on  a  given  day?     D:  err  …  30  I  guess?     S:  and  would  they  be  working  on  the  same  thing  or  different  things?     D:  Different  things,  there  could  be  anything  from  about  four  up  to  about  seven  shows  rehearsing  in   the  building  at  once.         S:  And  performing?     D:  probably  a  bit  less  since  you’ve  lost  the  rehearsal  spaces  so  I  suppose  about  a  dozen  to  20  across   the  three  spaces.     S:  So  you’ve  got  three  performances  going  on  at  the  same  time?    And  are  they  all  preparing  separately   and  would  need  to  carry  on  doing  that?`     D:  No,  in  the  context  of  this  collaboration  we  would  look  to  potentially  only  operate  one  studio  space   independently  –  or  semi-­‐independently  –  or  to-­‐be-­‐defined-­‐dependently  –  in  relation  to  the  Poe   experience.         F:  We’d  probably  have  another  space  that  was  for  other  people  making  work  but  under  the  banner  of   the  same  project.    One  independent  and  one  collaborative  space.     S:  But  is  the  idea  of  a  performers’  preparation  space  for  the  whole  building  interesting  or  just   completely  unworkable?    One  space  where  people  will  normally  prepare  and  dress,  but  maybe  like  in   the  Young  Vic  they’ve  just  got  trolleys  a  sort  of  mobile  actor’s  world  and  it  can  be  pulled  around   anywhere  it  wants  and  it  just  folds  out  into  mirror  and  drawers.     D:  Brilliant.     R:  So  when  you  say  prepare  do  you  mean  dressing  rooms?     S:  Yes,  dressing  rooms,  showers,  loos.     R:  That’s  not  necessarily  unworkable.    

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D:  No  not  at  all.    This  is  so  many  of  the  dreams  –  the  idea  of  you  working  in  unused  buildings  and  us   being  a  used  building  -­‐  there’s  a  really  rich  collaboration  in  terms  of  us  finding  greater  flexibility  for   the  used  building  to  be  able  to  precisely  –  this  is  my  trolley  –  this  is  my  dressing  room  –  we’ll  have  a   dressing  room  here.  [to  Felix]  Which  could  also  be  interesting  in  terms  of  your  development  too  in   terms  of  the  way  your  actors  work.    Do  many  of  your  actors  change  character  or  do  they  just  stick  all   the  way  through?     F:  We  never  really  considered  performers  changing  characters  as  much  as  we  should  do  but  we  just   haven’t  had  the  practical  facilities.     S:  Do  you  know  I’d  love  to  come  and  have  a  look  at  that  space  [21  Wapping  Lane]  with  you  one  day  in   the  daytime,  maybe  talk  to  some  of  the  performers  too  and  see  how  their  experience  of  it  is.         D:  That  would  be  good,  yeah  –  maybe  that  could  be  the  same  day  we  get  Mr  Accenture  guy  down   again.         S:  And  the  licensing  officers  as  well  perhaps.         S:  If  it  was  this  though  –  and  we  took  all  this  off  and  took  all  the  carpet  up  –  then  this  detail  suddenly   becomes  poignant  and  melancholic.     D:  I  had  a  relationship  with  one  of  these  recently  [pointing  to  brass  door  closing  mechanism]     S:  You  don’t  need  to  go  on…     D:  I  was  in  Brazil  at  this  conference  and  the  one  theatre  show  I  got  to  see  when  I  was  out  there  was  by   this  guy  called  Zee  Cessou  –  he’s  this  theatre  guru-­‐god  who’s  been  making  work  in  Brazil  for  50  years   –  he’s  had  a  massive  influence  on  Brazilian  theatre  (interestingly  when  you  mention  Augusto  Boal   nobody  really  knows  who  he  is  and  aesthetically  he’s  gone  –  he  was  known  in  terms  of  his  political   work  and  his  community  work  but  aesthetically  he’s  gone)  –  everyone’s  addicted  to  this  other  guy.    I   turned  up  to  his  theatre  and  it’s  this  incredible  building  –  a  very  very  tall,  very  very  long  theatre  and   halfway  through  the  show  I  just  looked  up  and  thought  ‘fuck  –  that’s  the  sky!’  –  it  didn’t  have  a  ceiling   –  and  then  it  started  raining  and  the  ceiling  slid  back  over…     S:  Really?     D:  Yeah  but  that  makes  it  sound  very  kind  of  hi-­‐tech  but  the  building  was  fucked,  everything  was  just   about  to  fall  to  pieces.    The  scaff  all  round  the  edge  which  the  audience  were  seated  on  4  different   rows.    When  I  arrived  the  theatre  doors  –  they  were  these  enormous  great  things  –  when  I  arrived   there  was  this  enormous  rumble  behind  them  and  the  doors  just  burst  out  and  40  pwerformers  just   burst  out,  some  of  them  riding  6ft  canons  and  ran  into  the  street  and  ran  down  the  street  –  it  was   incredible.    The  door  burst  open  and  one  of  these  things  [brass  door  closer]  flew  off.    This  little  guy   just  came  up  to  me  and  started  shouting  in  Portuguese  –  I  realised  he  was  really  short  and  he  wanted   me  to  fix  it.    I  suddenly  felt  this  amazing  connection  to  the  building  –  this  extraordinary  experience  –  I   felt  so  part  of  it.    Partly  because  it  didn’t  work  –  partly  because  you  had  to  help  them  -­‐  you  were  party   to  it.     S:  That’s  so  interesting  isn’t  it?    Unless  you  feel  empathy  with  the  building  –  if  you  feel  like  you’re  

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superfluous,  like  it’s  better  off  without  you,  then…     D:    Yeah…     S:  Just  get  out  of  the  fucking  building  please?  You’re  spoiling  it!     [downstairs  into  halls  side,  pondering  if  there  is  a  skylight  to  match  the  window  above  main  staircase   that  had  been  covered  over]     S:  You  know  those  old  Roman  bath  houses  with  vaulted  ceilings  and  archways  and  stone  masonry,   with  shafts  of  natural  light  that  just  come  piercing  through  –  looking  at  that  I  got  a  real  sense  of  what   could  happen  in  this  building.    It’s  like  you  need  to  do  exactly  what  English  heritage  want  but  you  just   stop  80%  of  the  way  through,  before  you’ve  finished.    You  haven’t  done  anything,  you  haven’t  broken   the  rules.    You’ve  scraped  it  back,  you’ve  skipped  loads  of  junk  –  maybe  you’ve  taken  out  all  the  light   fittings  -­‐  and  you’ve  put  back  an  infrastructure  that  is  much  more  intelligent.    Then  -­‐  I  don’t  know  if   this  is  right,  but  maybe  -­‐  the  whole  of  the  first  floor  is  just  a  deck  of  performance  space  that  can  be   lots  of  different  things  in  the  daytime  and  it  can  just  be  a  zone  for  performance  at  the  night.                Maybe  there’s  a  big  room-­‐sized  goods  lift  that  maybe  50  people  could  get  into  and  think  they  are   in  a  room  –  and  the  door  shuts  –  but  it’s  so  slow  you  don’t  realise  you’re  going  anywhere,  and  the   door  opens  again  and  they’re  somewhere  else.    Just  finding  ways  of  mucking  around  with  people’s   understanding  and  orientation.    It  will  be  inherently  flexible  –  plug  a  light  in  –  decide  to  move  it  and   plug  it  in  somewhere  else.    The  main  thing  is  that  the  look  and  feel  of  it  just  grows  out  of  successive   performances,  which  all  leave  their  traces  on  the  building.      !  !  !     Wrapping  up  the  meeting  –  we  noticed  that  there  had  been  some  brilliant  parallel  points  and  uncanny   common  ambitions  with  Steve  and  Felix’s  respective  reactions  to  the  building.    A  lot  of  the   suggestions  or  ideas  we  have  come  up  with  in  this  conversation  are  quite  simple,  but  they  are  brave.     As  a  one-­‐off  expense  they  will  be  expensive,  but  there  will  be  a  seismic  shift  in  the  way  the  building   operates.      !      

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Appendix  5     th Interview  with  Axel  Burrough,  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  8  June  2009       Cassette  1  SIDE  A     [Looking  at  drawings  of  BAC]     Allegra:  Firstly,  are  these  your  drawings?     Axel  Burrough:  No.  these  are  mostly  Bethan  Davis’  drawings  mostly.    She  was  working  with  me  on  it.     AG:  I  sort  of  divided  these  into  the  different  areas  I  wanted  to  talk  about  and  I  think  these  are  about   the  centre  of  the  building.  Also  the  main  courtyard  area,  and  this  was  the  central  studio.     AB:  Well  that  was  a  different  scheme.     AG:  That  was  what  I  was  going  to  ask.     AB:  That  was  earlier,  if  I  remember  rightly.     AG:  If  I  ask  my  questions,  then  maybe  it  will  come  in  order.     AB:  What  are  Haworth  Tompkins  doing  here?    Have  they  got  big  plans?     AG:  [short  explanation  of  Playgrounding:  architectural  process  stretched  over  a  long  period  of  time,   keeping  the  building  open,  working  in  small  chunks  rather  than  a  large  project].    In  looking  at  these   plans  and  talking  to  Tom  (Morris)  I  have  realised  that  some  of  them  are  very  similar  in  terms  of  plans   to  improve  flow  through  the  building  and  visibility  into  the  front  of  the  building  and  improve  the   technology  throughout  the  building.    But  also  wanting  to  do  it  mainly  through  working  with  artists.   For  instance  Steve  talked  quite  a  lot  with  Felix  Barrett  (Artistic  Director  of  Punchdrunk)  while  they   were  making  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  enabling  that  show  to  happen  in  the  building  then  had  an   effect  on  the  plans  for  different  spaces.    We  can  walk  around  in  a  bit  and  we  can  talk  about  them.   Can  I  ask  you  a  bit  about  when  you  first  came  into  BAC?    I  suppose  I  wanted  to  know  about…  when  I   first  talked  to  Tom  (Morris)  he  talked  about  a  few  initial  reactions  to  the  building.    I  asked  him  how   the  relationship  with  Levitt  Bernstein  began  and  he  said  that  they  held  a  competition  and  that  you   submitted  a  design.    I  was  wondering  if  you  could  remember  your  initial  thoughts  about  the  building,   when  you  first  walked  in.     AB:  Uh,  I  can’t  remember,  actually.    I  do  remember  where  the  interview  took  place.    It  took  place  in   the  art  gallery  up  there.    What  I  remember,  the  things  I  remember  most  were  the  sort  of  practical   things.    For  instance  the  complete  inability  of  anybody  to  be  able  to  use  the  Grand  Hall  satisfactorily.     Because  it  just  didn’t  fit  in  with  the  front  of  the  building  at  all  and  so  hence  the  whole  building   operated  quite  intensively  at  the  front  here  but  it  didn’t  operate  intensively  at  the  back  which  is   where  a  huge  amount  of  the  space  was.    It  just  means  that  as  a  large  building  complex  it  was   completely  dysfunctional  from  that  point  of  view.    It’s  a  wonderful  old  building  really,  a  really  grand   building,  not  designed  as  a  performing  building  obviously  in  the  first  place,  but  it  is  a  fine  building.     And  a  lot  of  the  things  they  had  done  in  order  to  make  it  work  for  particularly  the  performing  arts  had  

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actually  denied  the  building.    Like  for  instance  the  main  hall,  the  old  council  chamber,  where  you  go  in   and  you  don’t  realise,  the  old  room  has  been  sort  of  [AG:  disappeared]  well,  tried  to  make  it  feel  that   it  isn’t  there  anymore,  almost  like  an  embarrassment.    And  the  other  little  performance  space,  down   there  on  the  left  hand  side.     AG:  Studio  1     AB:  Is  it  still  there?     AG:  Yes     AB:  That  was  a  very,  very  tricky  space,  shoehorned  into  a  corner  and  hard  to  run  as  the  relationship  of   the  dressing  rooms  to  the  stage,  how  the  audience  got  in  and  things  like  that,  functional  problems.     And  what  one  wanted  to  do  was  try  to  find  ways  of  using  the  building  which  more  naturally  worked   with  the  building  rather  than  against  it.  And  so  that  is  the  kind  of  approach  we  were  looking  at.       Now  just  remember  we  were  looking  at  the  main  space,  the  main  auditorium,  of  completely   reconfiguring  it  by  opening  it  up  as  a  big  room  again  and  having  a  big  very  simple  bench  bleacher   seating  in  it.    Steep  banks  of  seating  that  people  would  sit  on  the  steps  rather  than  on  chairs  and   make  it  into  a  space  which  was  much  more  like  a  found  space,  but  that  was  dependant  on  us  having   somewhere  else  in  the  building.    Somewhere  that  could  operate  like  a  more  conventional  way,  with  a   stage,  with  seats  facing  the  stage.    Hence  we  had  this  idea  of  breaking  into  the  courtyard.    The   courtyard  was  the  link  between  the  front  and  the  back  and  to  enable  us  to  do  something  which  could   actually  take  the  pressure  off  the  existing  spaces.    We  were  thinking  about  it  from  quite  a  functional   point  of  view  really,  to  make  best  use  of  the  building.     AG:  So  just  so  I  know,  when  you  went  into  that  space,  when  you  first  saw  it.    It  was  black  box  with  a   rake  in  it.    A  permanent  rake  or  a  retractable  rake?         AB:  I  think  it  was  a  permanent  rake.    What  is  it  now?     AG:  It  is  a  retractable  rake  now,  so  possibly  it  was  retractable  then…     AB:  But  never  retracted.    Maybe  they  never  bothered  to  retract  it.    Certainly  whenever  I  saw  it,  it  was   always  configured  as  an  end  stage.     AG:  So  one  of  the  things  I  don’t  really  understand  about  the  plans,  timing  wise,  perhaps  because  they   were  different  schemes,  some  of  these  I  saw  at  the  centre  of  the  building  an  open,  green  café,  people   walking  around  sort  of  area,    and  then  in  others  I  see  this  where  you  have  the  central  studio.    And  I   am  just  wondering  at  what  point…  which  came  first,  when  that  changed?     AB:  My  memory  is  that  this  one…[looks  at  plans]…yes  these  two  diagrams,  these  were  earlier   [reference  to  the  Theatre  Projects  diagrams],  not  very  much  earlier  but  they  were  earlier.    A  more,   fairly  conventional  gallery    and  studio  theatre  space,  rectangular  in  form.    But  also  the  thing  about  this   was  that  it  was  going  to  have  glazed  walls  so  instead  of  completely  filling  up  the  courtyard  you  would   actually  be  able  to  see  through  the  building  and  into  the  building.    So  the  activity  in  here,  when  you   wanted  it  to  be  visible  it  could  be  visible.    These  are  all  curtains  you  see,  between  the  layers  of  glass.   And  so  rather  than  forming  yet  another  complete  barrier  in  the  building,  because  you  have  got  the   main  stairs  and  then  you  have  got  a  wall  which  is  a  barrier  between  the  front  and  the  back  of  the  

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building.    You  have  got  something  which  was  actually,  which  could  be  transparent  if  you  wanted  it  to   be.    So  the  activity  in  this  space  could  be  visible  to  people  in  the  building  and  so  that  was  that  one.     I  can’t  remember  the  reason  why  but  we  moved  away  from  that  to  a  rather  smaller  type  of   auditorium,  which  was  this  one,  which  gave  us  more  space  for  activity  in  the  centre  of  the  building   and  so  the  idea  of  that  was  that  people  would  permeate  this  wall  here  and  actually  lots  of  activities   could  take  place  around  this  central  studio.  So  it  became  a  hub  of  activity  in  the  building.    And  as  I   said,  building  that  would  take  pressure  off  the  main  house.         AG:  so  this  [main  house]  could  become  a  more  open  space.     AB:  exactly     AG:  and  that  would  be  the  black  box  studio.    So  would  that  have  then  been  the  courtyard  still?     AB:  that’s  right     AG:  and  that  would  have  been  open  space,  glassed  over…     AB:  And  these  walls  were  broken  out  so  you  could  actually  filter  through  into  that  courtyard  and  then   also  filter  through  the  courtyard  space  to  the  back  of  the  building  where  the  Grand  hall  is.    It  is  a  way   of  linking  this  octagonal  space  which  is  the  original  foyer  space  for  the  Grand  Hall  to  the  front  of  the   building.     AG:  so  for  instance  here,  just  so  I  understand  the  plans,  what  would  be  in  these  gaps  here?       AB:  Well  we  were  trying  to  open  up  the  front  side  as  well  because  it  provides  a  very  closed  aspect  to   the  street.     AG:  I  like  this  terrace  with  people  on  it.     AB:  Raise  up  the  terrace  and  put  a  bar  at  the  front  so  you  could  actually  sit  out  on  the  street  and  you   could  at  least  see  activity  in  the  building,  and  put  the  bookshop  in  this  corner.    It  was  crucial,  because   if  you  are  in  the  café  at  the  moment  sitting  down  the  level  of  the  sills  is  virtually  above  your  eye  level   and  that  seemed  to  be  wrong  to  us.    I  mean  whether  we  would  have  got  this  through  planning  is   another  matter.    The  idea  was  to  make  it  much  more  permeable  at  the  front  of  the  building  and  much   more  permeable  in  the  middle  of  the  building  whilst  retaining  all  the  main  architectural  features.    Its   not  about  taking  anything  out  it  is  just  a  matter  of  taking  an  arch,  like  the  arch  behind  us  [underneath   the  main  staircase]  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  and  punching  through  it.    The  arch  would  still  be  there   so  we  weren’t  actually  destroying  the  original  architecture.    We  were  just  manipulating  it.     AG:  so  these  would  have  had,  these  gaps,  would  these  have  been  glass  infill?     AB:  the  drawings  give  the  impression  of  permeability.  Whether  they  would  actually  have  been   windows  or  doors…  that  is  tomorrow’s  decision.     AG:  and  here  [east  and  west  front  corridors],  again,  the  idea  would  have  been  to  keep  the  corridors   open?    

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AB:  Open  the  sides  of  the  corridors  that  is  right  [onto  the  courtyard].     AG:  and  whether  that  would  have  been  by  glass  walls  or  windows  or  whatever  that  is…     AB:  yes.     AG:  just  so  I  understand  the  order  properly….  These  plans  show  this  wonderful  garden  in  the  centre  of   the  building.    A  few  different  versions.    Where  I  am  assuming  then  later,  or  before?,  the  studio   theatre  was  planned.  I  am  just  wondering  which  came  first  in  terms  of  the  plans  for  the  centre  of  the   building.     AB:  these  were  some  time  before  [ref.  To  the  garden  plans].    It  was  all  mixed  up  with  lottery  money.     The  whole  basis  of  the  scheme  was  mixed  up  with  whether  lottery  money  would  become  available  or   not.    And  the  ambitions  schemes  were  sort  of  a  response  to  the  ambitions  of  the  people  providing   lottery  money.    Did  you  ask  Tom  about  this?    I  think  his  attitude  changed  depending  on  the  politics  of   the  relationship  between  him  and  his  landlord,  whether  they  would  help  to  provide  enough  cross-­‐ subsidy…  the  extent  to  which  we  increased  our  ambitions.    What  he  really  wanted,  he  really  wanted   another  performance  space  and  these  schemes,  with  garden  in  the  middle,  was  a  nice  way  of  dealing   with  the  building  because  it  provided  something  else  in  the  building  which  it  hasn’t  got  at  the   moment.    Because  if  you  look  at  that  courtyard  space  its  probably  just  as  grotty  as  it  was  then,  so  this   would  have  been  a  very  nice  thing  to  do.    But  it  didn’t  provide  much  in  the  way  of  additional   performing  areas  or  variety.   I  think  what  he  wanted  was  to  be  able  to  have  a  greater  variety  of  spaces  of  performance.  The  trouble   was  what  he  had  at  the  moment,  then,  were  very  little  rooms,  very  inflexible,  because  the  doors  were   in  the  wrong  place,  the  relationship  to  the  dressing  rooms,  all  those  sorts  of  things,  the  height,   everything  made  them  not  flexible  but  restricted.    And  as  I  said  about  the  main,  the  conversion  of  the   council  chamber,  it  was  fundamentally  just  an  end-­‐stage  room,  and  what  he  wanted  was  more   informal  spaces.    And  so  one  way  of  doing  that  would  be  to  create  an  informal  garden  in  the  middle  of   the  building  which  you  could  use  for  performance  and  the  other  was  to  create  a  performance  space   which  was  more  purpose-­‐built,  so  that  it  did  things  better.    It  was  properly  equipped,  people  faced   the  right  way  and  were  in  comfortable  seats  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  which  took  the  pressure  off  the   rest  of  the  building  so  you  could  colonize  the  other  parts  of  the  building  in  a  more  informal  way.    It   was  this  idea  of  colonization  that  we  were  keen  to  talk  to  him  about.    When  we  did  the  Royal   Exchange  theatre  in  Manchester  basically  it  was  this  huge,  great,  inflexible  old  trading  hall  and  we   designed  a  building  within  it  which  was  a  bit  like  an  act  of  piracy.    It  was  taking  over  the  space,  which   was  almost  an  unwilling  host,  the  main  space.    But  it  could  take  it  because  it  was  so  big.    And  so  there   was  a  tremendous  tension  between  the  new  space  within  this  huge  great  hall  and  the  old  space.    And   that  was  part  of  the  excitement  –  the  tension.    And  of  course  it  was  designed  in  a  way  that  made  it   look  as  if  it  could  be  taken  away  at  any  day,  it  was  camping  in  effect.    So  we  were  trying  to  pursue  this   idea  of  people  being  able  to  camp  in  spaces  in  the  building,  but  that  depended  on  having  somewhere   in  the  building  that  was  well-­‐equipped  for  the  more  conventional  things.    Most  productions,  touring   productions,  need  a  conventional  space  and  that’s  a  fact.         AG:  In  terms  of  reflecting  what  you  did  at  Manchester  Exchange,  with  this  central  studio,  Tom   mentioned  that  at  one  point  it  was  quite  tall…     AB:  This  was  a  taller  space  yes.    It  was  accentuated  by  these  external  stairs,  ramps  going  up  the   outside  of  it.    

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AG:  And  what  would  it  have  been  clad  in?    What  were  the  materials?     AB:  We  hadn’t  got  that  far.    It  was  going  to  be  a  very  solid,  geometric  form.    That  was  the  idea.     AG:  I  suppose  I  imagine  that  looking  like  a  space  ship,  landing  in  the  middle  of  the  building.    That   being  the  thing  that  looked  almost  alien  to  the  space…     AB:  This  glass  box  [reference  to  earlier  Theatre  Projects  plans  for  central  studio]  would  have  been  a   more  alien  intrusion.    That  was  the  reason  why  it  was  transparent  because  the  idea  was  it  didn’t   actually  block  off  the  rest  of  the  building.    But  the  proportions  of  the  other  one  were  such  that  it  was   actually  smaller  in  the  space  than  the  overall  court,  the  overall  central  area…  this  is  going  down   memory  lane!     AG:  I  am  quite  interested  in  that  sense  of  piracy  of  the  space.    You  talk  here  about  affirmation  or   denial  of  the  existing  character  of  the  building  and  that  by  creating  something  that  was  so  completely   a  studio  space,  very  high-­‐tech,  you  could  then  behave  more  flexibly  towards  the  rest  of  the  building…     The  idea  of  creating  a  folly  within  a  folly,  is  that  a  reference  to  the  central  studio?     AB:  hmm.  Yes.  [reading  the  document]  ah  yes,  the  piracy  thing  is  mentioned  here.     AG:  I  suppose  the  idea  of  being  in  a  space  that  wasn’t  intended  as  a  theatre  space  to  start  with  is   quite  important  starting  point  in  thinking  about  where  you  go  with  the  building.         AB:  Well  its  always  a  dilemma  because  I  think  there  is  a  tendency  towards  greater  homogenisation  in   theatre  spaces  actually  in  this  country.    And  one  of  the  most  interesting  things  about  theatre  design  in   th Britain  in  the  second  half  o  the  20  century  was  a  result  of  a  relatively  well-­‐funded  repertory  theatre   movement.    People,  theatre  companies  owning  their  own  theatres.    If  you  own  your  own  theatre  you   can  have  whatever  theatre  you  want  because  you  are  designing  for  it  and  you  are  producing  for  it,   you  are  choosing  the  plays  for  it,  everything  is  done  for  your  own  theatre  space  and  as  a  result  it  can   be  unconventional  because  it’s  yours.    Whereas  if  you  are  running    a  theatre  space  which  is  reliant  on   product  that  is  brought  in  from  other  places  in  the  country  it  almost  inevitably  has  to  conform  to  the   lowest  common  denominator  because  the  things  which  fit  other  spaces  have  got  to  fit  your  space.     Put  it  the  other  way  round,  one  of  the  problems  the  royal  exchange  theatre  in  Manchester  always  had   is  transferring  to  London.    It  has  never  been  able  to  transfer  to  London  the  shows  without  completely   for  the  London  stages.    The  only  time  when  they  could  dot  hat  was  when  they  built  a  similar  sort  of   stage  in  the  Roundhouse  in  the  80’s  I  suppose  it  was,  or  90’s.  Or  brought  their  temporary  theatre   down.    So  they  have  always  had  a  real  problem.    That  is  symptomatic,  because  they  can  do  what  they   want  in  their  own  theatre.    So  BAC  does  both,  it  brings  people  in  to  do  things  but  it  also  produces   things  of  its  own,  so  it  needs  the  unconventional  spaces  in  which  it  can  do  unconventional  things  in   the  way  it  wants  to  do  it,  but  it  also  need  the  relatively  more  conventional  spaces.  This  is  how  we   thought  about  it.    In  a  way  these  are  things  which  are  too  conventional  but  not  operating  very  well  in   a  conventional  way,  it  was  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other,  it  was  totally  unsatisfactory.    Do  you   understand?    So  this  is  the  freedom  you  are  given  [referencing  the  central  studio].    You  are  given  the   freedom  by  providing  something  that  is  a  good  box  of  tricks.    You  are  given  the  freedom  to  actually   appropriate  the  other  spaces  in  the  way  that  you  want.    Which  is  what  this  building  should  be  about   because  it  is  almost  like  the  arts  centre  is  a  tenant  in  the  building,  the  building  wasn’t  built  for  it.    It   should  be  transforming  the  building  in  lots  of  different  ways.    And  it  always  has.    It  has  had  major  art   works  in  this  foyer.    It  has  had  interesting  productions  taking  up  the  whole  building.    And  that  sort  of   lightness,  that  sort  of  inventiveness,  lightness  on  one’s  feet,  is  crucial.  And  so  that  is  what  we  were  

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trying  to  find  a  way  of  doing  -­‐    a  loosening  up  of  the  spaces  so  that  people  could  use  their   imaginations  in  the  way  that  they  use  them.     AG:  It  does  come  back  to  that  question  that  I  keep  running  up  against  in  most  of  the  spaces  I  am   looking  at:  the  tension  between  whether  you  build  something  specific  or  something  that  is  flexible   and  that  a  lot  of  people  can  use.    I  suppose  that,  quite  a  few  spaces  in  BAC  have  suffered  from  a  lack   of  brilliant  technology  and  that  need  to  be  multi  –purpose.     th AB:  one  of  the  great  inventions  of  the  latter  part  of  the  20  century  was  the  studio  theatre,  or  the   courtyard  theatre  I  should  say.    The  first  one  was  probably  the  Cottesloe  at  the  National,  but  that   wasn’t  initially  very  flexible,  or  designed  as  a  flexible  space,  but  of  course  the    National  have  huge   resources  so  they  can  rip  seats  apart  and  put  them  back  in  different  ways  if  they  want  to.    And  then   the  next  one  was  the  one  we  did  at  ??  which  was  the  Wilde  Theatre,  which  was  much  more   adaptable,  it  was  designed  to  take  product:  could  be  dance,  could  be  music  theatre,  could  be  small-­‐ scale  opera,  could  be  converted  into  a  small  concert  hall  and  it  could  do  drama.    And  in  an  extreme   version  the  flat  floor  could  take  a  craft  fair  or  something  like  that  for  the  two  weeks  before  Christmas.     So  that  is  a  truly  adaptable  space.    And  there  have  been  lots  of  others  in  that  model  which  have  been   built  since.    But  I  think  most  people  who  run  spaces  like  that  find  a  difficulty  in  programming  them   because  even  if  they  are  very,  very  easy  to  change  around  you  still  have  t  re-­‐rig  all  the  lights,  for   instance.    Total  flexibility  is  a  complete  mirage.    It  is  much  better  to  start  with  something  that  works   extremely  well  for  its  purpose  90%  of  the  time  and  try  to  make  it  more  versatile.    Otherwise  you  end   up  with  the  space  that  is  capable  at  everything  but  good  at  nothing.     Cassette  1  SIDE  B     AG:  [whilst  changing  the  cassette,  asks  about  the  idea  of  ‘affirmation  and  denial’  of  the  existing   building]     AB:  Taking  an  existing  building  which  has  a  hugely  powerful  character,  acknowledging  that  character,   but  being  prepared  to  subvert  it  as  well.  Rather  than  just  being  totally  in  awe  of  it.    It  needed  a  good   shake-­‐up.         AG:  Rather  than  just  painstaking…     AB:  Not  being  too  precious  about  it  basically.    But  everybody  can  appreciate  the  beauty  of  this   building  in  their  own  way,  and  you  don’t  want  to  deny  that.     AG:    When  you  were  working  on  the  Manchester  Exchange  and  you  say  that  it  looked  like  it  had  sort   of  ‘arrived’  in  the  space  but  could  be  taken  out  any  day,  a  sort  of  alien  object  within  that  building.    I   read  the  famous  article  Michael  Elliot  wrote  about  it  ‘On  not  building  for  posterity’  and…     AB:  Well,  ‘On  not  building  for  posterity’,  that  was  1973  and  the  theatre  wasn’t  open  until  1976.     AG:  I  sort  of  the  thought  the  ideas  were  about…     AB:  It  was  absolutely,  completely  pertinent  to  the  construction  of  the  building.    It  said  something  like   ‘when  I  was  standing  on  the  Waterloo  Bridge  looking  at  the  concrete  of  the  National  Theatre   appearing  out  of  the  ground,  Is  this  the  sort  of  the  thing  we  should  be  doing  now?’  Something  like   that.    Because  you  see  their  attitude  was,  we  are  a  group  of  people  and  we  don’t  want  to  work  in  

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proscenium  theatres.    Anybody  who  wants  to  work  in  a  proscenium  theatre  can.    There  are  lots  of   them  around.    We  are  not  going  to  deny  them  that  opportunity  by  building  something  which  we  want   to  work  in.  That  was  their  attitude.    But  of  course  they  needed  to  be  a  producing  theatre  to  do  that.     They  needed  the  freedom  to  have  a  space  of  their  own.    That  is  my  point  you  see.    And  it  would  be   the  same  with  the  Haymarket  Theatre  in  Leicester  and  a  number  of  others.    Lots  of  other  theatres…   the  Sheffield  Crucible  which  is  a  thrust  stage,  very  unconventional  for  its  time,  but  it  was  a  producing   company.     AG:  Or  the  Stephen  Joseph.    I  went  to  see  a  theatre  in  November  in  São  Paulo  called  Teatro  Oficina.     AB:  That  is  Lina  Bo  Bardi  isn’t  it?     AG:  Yes.    And  there  you  get  an  artist  who  says  ‘this  is  the  kind  of  theatre  I  want  to  make  and  this  is  the   kind  of  space  I  need  for  it’  and  the  architect  coming  alongside.    I  read  some  of  the  plans  and  you  get   some  that  say  things  like  ‘walkway,  not  recommended  by  the  architect’  in  brackets.    So  she  has  drawn   it  on  the  plans  because  Ze  Celso  has  said  ‘I  want  it  to  be  like  this’.    She  has  said  ‘well,  I  will  put  it  on   but  I  don’t  think…’     AB:  That  is  extraordinary,  I  didn’t  realise…  because  it  is  a  rather  extraordinary…  it’s  s  street  really  isn’t   it?  When  was  that,  80’s?     AG:  I  am  still  trying  to  piece  it  together  because  my  Portuguese  is  really  bad.     AB:  I  think  it  was  round  about  the  80’s.     AG:  It  was  ’83  they  started  working  on  it  and  didn’t  finish  until  1993  and  Lina  Bo  Bardi  died  in  1992.     And  they  didn’t  actually  do  all  that  she  planned  to  do.    They  built  the  front  part  but  she  had  planned  a   whole  stadium  theatre  at  the  back.     AB:  Yes,  I  have  heard  about  that.    I  wondered  how  that  fitted  into  the  whole.     AG:  Yes,  I  have  just  been  trying  to  piece  together  the  chronology  of  it.    And  because  everything  on  the   website  is  written  from…  they  are  very  present  people.    So  even  the  chronology  is  written  almost  in   the  present  tense,  but  you  don’t  really  know  when  the  present  was  that  they  were  writing  the   chronology  in.    Makes  it  a  bit  complicated  to  back.    So  it  is  a  sort  of  incomplete  version  of  what  she   fully  intended  for  the  space,  she  meant  to  build  almost  like  a  passageway,  a  parade,  the  idea  of   carnival.    And  now  it  finishes,  it  has  a  solid  wall  at  the  back.    But  I  think  they  have  plans  to  change   that.    But  there  is  a  theatre  with  an  artist  at  the  heart  of  it,  deciding  what  kind  of  space  they  want  to   work  in.     AB:  I  have  never  been  there  but  the  photographs  I  have  seen  make  it  look  like  it  intended  to  look  like   something  which  is  completely  found,  not  intentional  at  all.    Which  is  another  very  interesting  thing.     Because  Peter  Brooke  has  a  very  similar  attitude  in  a  way:  the  staid  and  conventional  is  a  killer.     AG:  I  feel  like  he  goes  in  and  delicately  re-­‐creates  a  sense  of  history  in  a  space  almost.     AB:  But  he  talks  about  dirty  spaces  doesn’t  he  and  about  them  being  more  exciting  and  I  think  that  is   absolutely  true.  

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AG:  I  think  a  space  like  the  Curve  in  Leicester,  haven’t  been  to  see  that  yet  but  I  am  interested  to  see   how  that  works,  because  I  think  there  was  a  woman  advising  on  that  project  who,  as  far  as  I   understood,  a  lot  of  the  drive  for  it  came  from  her  because  she  wanted  to  make  something  that   allowed  for  procession.    Because  I  think  a  lot  of  the  theatrical  culture  in  Leicester  is  based  on…     AB:  One  of  these  Artistic  Directors  you  mean     AG:  Yes,  I  can’t  remember  her  name     AB:  No,  can’t  remember     AG:  But  she  was  the  artistic  drive  but  I  think  she  left  just  before  the  project  ended,  so  it  would  be   interesting  to  see  now  they  have  a  space  built  for  that,  if  they  will  actually  find  people  to  make  work   for  it.     AB:  I  am  sure  they  will  be  writing  their  own  history.    I  was  actually  involved  in  the  feasibility  studies  of   that  theatre  when  this  idea  of  what  they  call  an  ‘inside  out  theatre’  was  first  mooted.    And  she  wasn’t   around  in  any  of  those  meetings,  funnily  enough,  but  I  am  sure  she  did  have  a  lot  of  input.    But  I  think   it  was  partially,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  no,  that  is  the  wrong  thing  to  say  ‘to  tell  you  the  truth’…  I  have  a   suspicion  that  it  was  partially  to  do  with  me,  you  know,  that  whole  idea.    Because  I  was,  they  were   wondering  what  sort  of…  that  very  point  I  made  to  you  about  producing  theatres  is  that  they  can  do   something  unconventional.    I  was  saying  I  thought  that  what  audiences  were  less  interested  in  these   days  was  the  total  separation  of  the  audience’s  world  from  the  actor’s  world  and  that  they  find  the   process  of  putting  productions  on  an  interesting  thing  and  I  gave  three  examples  of  it.    One  was  the   Royal  Exchange.    You  can  go  into  that  hall  while  having  a  fit  up  or  a  rehearsal  and  you  know   something  is  going  on,  ok,  so  you  are  not  sitting  in  a  seat  watching  maybe,  but  you  go  in  and  realise   that  this  is  a  sort  of  factory  for  theatre.    As  well  as  a  performances  space.    And  it  just  makes  it  a  much   more  interesting  process.  You  go  into  have  a  cup  of  coffee  there  and  something  is  going  on  in  the   main  hall,  you  see  the  odd  actor  wandering  around  and  things  like  that.    And  then  I  have  been  to   Gothenburg.    This  is  quite  a  superficial  point  but  at  Gothenburg  they  have  got  this  opera  house  in  the   dock  and  as  you  walk  around  the  opera  house  there  is  this  huge  great  plate  glass  window  into  the   scenery  workshop,  so  you  can  actually  watch  people  making  the  scenery.    It’s  a  very  simple  point.    But   why  not?    They  can  always  draw  a  curtain.    So  those  are  two  of  them.    I  can’t  remember  what  the   third  was.    And  they  sort  of  picked  up  on  this  and  said  well,  Leicester  has  a  tradition  of  being  a  great   producing  town,  that  is    what  it’s  history  has  been  based  on.    So  why  don’t  we  make  this  a  producing   theatre…[a  couple  inaudible  words]  so  that  people  realise  that  theatre  is  being  produced  here?  And   not  just  going  to  see  the  productions.    And  that  was  kind  of  the  origin  of  that  process.         So  this  whole  business  of  what  you  are  talking  about,  which  is  processions,  that  came  after  my   involvement.    But  certainly  that  is  very  interesting  because  there  is  a  huge  Asian  population  there  of   course  whose  theatre  is  very  different.     AG:  I  think  that  is  what  they  were  thinking  of  accommodating.      I  suppose  what  I  am  interested  in  is   that  Tom  Morris’  response  to  wanting  to  treat  the  spaces  flexibly  but  still  being  able  to  accommodate   for  the  production  that  come  in  to  BAC,  was  to  create  more  spaces,  so  more  possibilities  of  different   types  of  space  to  work  in.    I  think  that  is  what  I  didn’t  manage  to  understand  when  I  talked  to  Tom   was  this:  if  you  just  create  more  types  of  spaces,  that  gives  you  more  flexibility  for  what  you  do  with   some  of  them,  so  they  don’t  all  have  to  be  black  box  spaces.    Because  he  was  talking  about  how  it  has   to  come  from  the  artist.    You  have  got  to  have  the  kind  of  space  where  an  artist  wants  to  work.    And  if  

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you  as  a  producer    are  saying  ‘I  think  this  would  be  a  good  idea  for  this  space’  you  are  already  leaning   on  a  bad  elbow  because  you  are  not  the  person  who  is  actually  make  the  work  in  there.    And  he   talked  about  how  at  the  National  you  have  a  Pros  arch,  amphitheatre  and  the  Cottesloe  and  they  all   go  in  and  out  of  fashion.    But  it  gives  the  artists  options.    And  I  suppose  BAC  is  in  a  reasonably  unique   position  in  that  it  does  have  a  lot  of  space,  but  at  the  same  time  is  the  answer  to  that  need  for   flexibility  or  to  accommodate  for  artists  just  to  create  endless  new  types  of  spaces  as  different  things   become  ‘they  way  the  artist  wants  to  work’.    I  don’t  know.    what  is  your  response  to  that…     AB:  Well,  think  of  it  in  a  slightly  different  way.    Think  of  this  building,  which  has  always  been  under-­‐ funded,  whatever  they  have  done.    This  is  an  old  council  building  that  has  got  spaces  which  are   suitable  for  when  it  was  built  100  years  ago  and  BAC  has  been,  because  they  couldn’t  think  of   anything  else  to  do  with  this  old  building  which  is  no  longer  any  good  for  the  uses  of  the  council,  who   probably  built  swanky  new  offices  down  the  road,  they  handed  it  on  to  the  arts.    Saying  ‘here  see   what  you  can  do  with  this’.    So  it  was  always  a  struggle.    I  mean  they  are  very  grateful  for  having   space,  obviously,  but  it  is  always  and  uphill  struggle  to  cope  in  a  building  which  isn’t  designed   specifically  for  what  you  want  to  do.    Along  comes  the  lottery  money  and  you  have  got  to  remember,   1994  lottery  act,  so  between  1995  and  about  1998  or  1999  there  was  a  very,  incredibly  small  period  in   history  which  was  they  heyday  of  the  Arts  Council  lottery  funding  when  they  were  able  to  fund   ambitious  projects  and  so  this  was  an  opportunity  that  had  never  occurred  before  and  has  never   occurred  again,  to  actually  make  the  building  which  they  had  inherited  more  fit  for  purpose.    And  so   you  have  to  think  about  the  whole  thought  process  in  those  terms.    So  you  look  at  the  spaces,  and  we   are  back  to  where  we  were  before,  you  say  ‘well  they  have  done  their  best  here’  but  its  not  good   enough.    So  how  can  we  make  these  spaces  work  better.    Well,  the  council  chamber  really  is  a  rather   unfortunate  mash  up,  maybe  you  say,  and  it  has  got  beautiful  windows  with  a  beautiful  view  out  but   you  can’t  see  it.    There  are  a  lot  of  things  about  that  room  that  could  be  better  used.    So  you  take  the   pressure  off  that  room  by  providing  something  which  is  possibly  more  conventional  but  is  actually   built  fit  for  purpose  and  to  current  standards  somewhere  else  in  the  building.    I  think  none  of  these   drawings  show  conventional  spaces  but  on  the  other  hand  they  are  well-­‐equipped  for  what  they  are   supposed  to  be  doing.    So  that  was  the  thought  process.  So  actually  it  is  a  response  to  a  particular,   very,  very  small  period  of  time.    Looking  back  on  it.     AG:    Definitely.    Can  I  just  check  if  I  have  anything  I  haven’t  asked  and  then  maybe  we  could  walk   around  the  building  for  a  few  minutes?   AB:  Sure.    And  also  probably,  the  way  they  are  thinking  about  it  now,  in  a  sort  of  incremental  fashion,   is  also  a  function  of  the  time  that  we  are  in  at  the  moment.     AG:  Absolutely.    A  very  different  financial  climate  where  the  Arts  Council  come  up  with  small  packets   of  money  over  the  course  of  a  few  years.     AB:  Exactly.     AG:  I  think  we  talked  about  most  of  the  things…  Oh,  apart  from  you  explaining  maths  to  me!  I  was   going  to  ask  about  Bury  St.  Edmunds.     AB:  That  was  a  very  different  project.    How  can  I  start  this?    Theatre  Projects,  these  theatre   consultants,  there  is  somebody  who  used  to  work  with  them,  he  is  retired  now,  called  Iain   Mackintosh.  He  was  always  interested  in  proportional,  in  the  proportion  of  one  part  of  a  theatre   building  to  another.    He  felt  that  there  was  something  which  was  inherently  right  about  the   proportion  of  stages  to  auditorium  for  instance.    So  he  would  always  try  to  build  in  some  sort  of  

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proportional  system  to  the  designs  Theatre  Projects  were  involved  in.    Coincidentally  we  did  this   design  study  with  Theatre  Projects  for  the  Theatre  Royal  in  1997,  1987/88,  even  earlier.    I  was  trying   work  out  some  very  practical  things  about  the  theatre,  about  the  original  design.    Like,  where  was  the   stage  front  originally?  And  so  I  try  to  put  myself  in  the  mind  of  the  architect.    The  architect  was   William  Wilkins  who  was  a  Maths  don  at  Caius  college  until  he  married.  So  he  graduated  5  wrangler   th (sp?),  so  5  best  mathematician  in  his  year  at  Cambridge.    But  he  had  also  done  the  Grand  Tour.    So   he  had  been  and  measure  Greek  temples  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff.    He  had  written  about  proportion.     So  he  was  obviously,  if  one  put  himself  in  his  mind…  if  I  am  given  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  and  I  am   starting  to  design  a  theatre  and  I  have  the  implements  you  used  to  design  buildings  in  those  days,   which  were  a  T-­‐square  and  set  –square  and  dividers  and  compasses.    How  do  I  go  about  it?    All  these   proportion  systems,  which  I  discovered  he  had  employed  in  that  theatre  are  very  easy  to  create   geometrically  using  compasses  and  dividers.    But  also  they  are  interesting  mathematically,  in  the   history  of  mathematics  because  they  work  geometrically  but  they  don’t  work  mathematically  because   if  you  take  a  square  and  the  sides  are  one,  the  diagonal  is  not  2  or  3  or  6  1.5.    It  is  1.444  recurring.    So   it  is  not  a  proper  number,  it  is  an  incommensurable  number.    I  think  that  they  always,  throughout  the   history  of  mathematics,  they  could  not  work  out…  there  must  be  a  secret  to  beauty,  which  isn’t   immediately  obvious.    Because  we  have  all  these  incommensurable  numbers  and  they  produce  these   very  clear  geometrical  forms.    And  then  you  have  another  strand  where,  for  instance,  something  like   the  Fibernachi  sequence  is  invented  which  is  a  series  of  numbers,  each  of  which  is  the  product  of  the   addition  of  the  two  previous  numbers.    So  it  goes  1,  2,  3,  5,  8,  13  and  so  on.    So  a  very  simple  series  of   numbers.    But  what  is  so  extraordinary  about  it  is  that  the  relationship  between  5  and  8  and  8  and  13   and  13  and  21  is  always  about  1.616.    which  is  the  golden  number.    It  is  coincidence  but  it  is  always   that.    So  it  is  not  surprising  that  people  used  to  think  ‘there  is  something  magic  here’.    These   relationships,  which  you  can  create  geometrically  as  well,  there  must  some  eternal  beauty  must  be   th built  into  this  in  some  way.    Not  only  that  but  the  12  number  in  the  Fibernachi  sequence  is  144   which  is  12x12…  how  amazing!    Now  a  really  good  mathematician  would  be  able  to  explain  why  that   was  perfectly  obvious,  but  to  lesser  minds  it  seems  like  an  extraordinarily  wonderful  fluke.    In   Renaissance  times  when  architects  once  again  became  particularly  interested  in  proportion,  early   renaissance  architecture  was  a  trade  not  a  profession,  it  wasn’t  an  art.    The  arts  were  geometry,   mathematics,  astrology  and  music.    Painting  and  architecture  were  not  arts.    As  these  professions   elevated  themselves  to  the  position  of  artists,  they  added  theory  to  what  they  were  doing.    And  the   theory  came  from  the  other  arts,  it  came  from  music,  musical  proportions.    It  is  all  a  search  for   universal  beauty.    But  what  interested  me  was  that  it  was  also  based  on  something  incredibly   practical  which  is,  what  do  you  do  when  you  have  got  compasses  and  dividers  and  a  pencil  in  your   hand?     AG:  And  so  by  mapping  that  onto  a  sheet  of  paper  you  established  the  original  dimensions  of…     AB:  Exactly.    If  you  have  a  square  of  which  the  sides  are  one,  the  diagonal  is  root  2.    So  when  you  talk   about  root  2,  that  is  how  it  is  arrived  at.    And  so  the  relationship  between  the  inside  face  of  the   galleries  at  Theatre  Royal  and  the  outer  side  of  the  galleries,  is  a  root  2  relationship.    He  would  have   drawn  a  square,  got  his  compasses,  drawn  a  circle,  taken  the  diagonal  and  drawn  another  circle  and   that  would  have  been  the  outer  and  the  inner  set  up.    And  they  used  to  do  this  –  that  was  how   cloisters  in  old  cathedrals  are  often  set  up.     AG:  And  do  you  agree  with  Iain  that  it  makes  for  a  better  theatre  space?    

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AB:  No,  I  am  a  sceptic  I  have  to  say,  from  that  point  of  view.    But  I  think  it  is  a  perfectly  justifiable  and   plausible  way  for  designing  buildings.    Everyone  needs  some  way  of  deciding  what  to  do.    I  think  it  is   very  valid  from  that  point  of  view.     AG:  hmm…thank  you!    The  other  thing  I  think  is  interesting  about  that  space,  after  leaving  Cambridge   I  trained  as  a  director  and  I  assistant  directed  on  a  play  at  Theatre  Royal.    So  I  spent  quite  a  lot  of  time   sitting  in  that  auditorium  and  I  did  always  think…  it  is  so  lovely.     AB:  Have  you  been  there  since  it  was  restored?     AG:  I  was  there  in  2005.     AB:  Oh  we  have  done  a  fantastic  job  on  it  since,  it  opened  again  in  2008.       [some  confusion  ensues  over  dates]     AG:  One  thing  I  always  thought  was  that  it  must  have  felt  quite  different  when  they  could  fit  so  many   more  people  inside  it.     AB:  Ah,  well  that  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world.    That  is  the  other  problem  that  we  have   nowadays.    The  whole  live  theatre  is  very  dependent  on  its  audience,  without  an  audience  there  is  no   point  in  it  and  the  audience  is  reaction  is  very  important  to  it.    And  they  fewer  the  people,  the  more   difficult  it  is  to  get  a  very  good  audience  reaction.    As  time  has  gone  by,  for  various  reasons,  it  has  got   more  and  more  difficult  to  get  as  many  people  as  close  to  the  actor  as  they  used  to  in  the  olden  days.     And  that  is  a  huge  dilemma  that  we  all  face.    There  have  been  some  huge  mistakes  where  people   have  gone  the  wrong  direction.    But  more  and  more  theatres  try  very,  very  hard  to  solve  this  intimacy   problem.    One  way  is  the  Royal  Exchange  theatre,  in  the  round,  the  fourth  side  has  people  so  that   gets  you  many,  many  more  people  and  that  is  astonishingly  intimate  from  that  point  of  view.    But  if   you  take  something  like  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Bury,  designed  for  780  people,  it  only  has  350  now.     Exactly  the  same  size  it  ever  was.    But  people  have  got  bigger.    I  read  recently  that  Norwegians  are   getting  taller  at  the  rate  of  25mm  every  generation.    And  I  think  a  lot  of  Americans  are  getting   broader  at  the  same  rate!    And  then  there  is  the  fire  officer,  means  of  escape  and  all  the  things  we   didn’t  use  to  worry  about  in  the  old  days,  which  just  make  it  far  more  difficult  to  get  a  lot  of  people   close  to  a  stage.    That  is  the  killer.     AG:  And  to  each  other     AB:  And  to  each  other.    And  there  is  the  business  also  of  people  not  wanting  to  be  so  close  to  each   other.    It  is  a  real  problem  and  one  of  the  biggest  dilemmas  for  people  in  the  theatre  to  try  to   generate  that  tremendous  intimacy  whilst  getting  the  big  numbers  in.    if  you  look  at  the  way  in  which   the  Georgian  theatre  developed  into  the  Victorian,  or  late  Victorian  theatre,  the  theatre  of  Matcham,   you  will  see  that  the  Georgian  theatre  model  with  its  shallow  balconies,  with  the  invention  of  the   cantilever,  developed  into  theatres  with  very,  very  deep  balconies  and  huge  great  ranks  of  seats.   What  Matcham  and  his  ilk  were  trying  to  do  was  create  that  room  at  the  front  equivalent  to  the  size   of  the  Georgian  rooms,  just  that  it  extended  further  back.    So  you  had  a  few  people  that  had  that   same  experience,  shared  the  room,  but  actually  they  got  the  numbers  in  by  adding  huge  numbers  of   people  who  were  in  those  nether  regions  of  the  theatre.    He  solved  the  problem.  Of  course  by  that   point  the  actor  had  gone  behind  the  proscenium  as  well  which  meant  there  was  more  space  for  the  

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audience  in  front  of  the  proscenium.    But  ever  since  then  we  have  been  trying  to  recapture  the  lost   space.     AG:  And  do  you  think  that  it  is  possible,  given  the  advancements  in  our  health  and  safety  regulations?     AB:  I  can’t  see  how  it  will,  we  are  all  doing  our  best,  but  I  just  can’t  see  how…  geometrically   impossible  to  make  up  the  lost  ground  really.     AG:  it  was  interesting  walking  around  theatre  spaces…  Steve  Tompkins  also  went  on  this  trip  to  Brazil,   and  seeing  it  from  an  architects  point  of  view,  who  knows  the  regulations…  I  don’t,  so  I  just  look  at   something  and  think  ‘this  is  so  wonderful,  why  don’t  we  build  like  that?’,    and  obviously  a  certain   amount  of  pain  from  Steve  knowing  that  he  is  not  allowed  to,  he  would  never  be  allowed  to  do  half   the  things  that  we  saw,  because  of  regulations.    He  would  never  be  allowed  to  build  that  staircase   without  a  break  in  the  middle  or  have  that  many  seats  without  an  aisle  this  wide..   AB:  So  you  went  to  Brazil?     AG:  In  November,  yes.  It  was  amazing.     [Short  discussion  of  how  Teatro  Oficina  visit  came  about,  researching  Teatro  Oficina,  organising  the   trip  with  British  Council]     Cassette  2  SIDE  A     [Walking  around  the  space,  sound  quality  very  poor,  mostly  AG  giving  a  ‘tour’]     Cassette  2  SIDE  B     AB:  The  Icon  gallery  puts  on  only  the  work  of  contemporary  artists,  a  lot  of  that  work  is  challenging  to   the  average  man  in  the  street.  The  gallery  that  they  had  before  had  a  picture  window  into  the  gallery   space  so  if  you  walked  by  you  saw  the  art  and  thought  ‘I’m  not  going  in  there’.    So  when  we  planned   the  new  gallery,  the  shop  and  the  gallery  were  at  the  front.  So  they  would  go  in  and  they  might  see   the  gallery  and  think  ‘why  not?’  but  it  got  them  across  the  threshold.    Then  they  found  this  friendly   place  where  people  were  prepared  to  talk  to  them  and  there  was  a  little  bit  of  art  and  there  was   some  inducement  to  go  a  bit  further.    So  it  got  them  into  the  building  it  got  the  interested  and  maybe   not  everyone,  you  can’t  win  them  all  but  maybe  a  few  people  found  it  less  alienating  and  that  is   incredibly  important.    That  is  what  we  were  talking  about  in  those  conversations  about  the  front  of   the  building.    The  front  of  the  building,  you  take  away  that  closedness,  you  open  it  up  a  bit,  you  put   activities  there,  not  threatening  in  any  way,  just  normal  activities  and  you  find  that  people  of  a   greater  variety  will  start  using  the  building  in  a  more  natural  way.    That’s  the  first  step.     AG:  I’m  going  to  a  conference  tomorrow,  Theatre  Trust…[Experiencing  Theatres]  

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Appendix  6     th Interview  with  Jude  Kelly,  South  Bank  Centre,  9  July  2009         Jude  Kelly  is  currently  Artistic  Director  of  the  South  Bank  Centre.  She  was  the  founder  Artistic   Director  of  BAC  from  1980  and  undertook  a  significant  amount  of  conversion  work  on  the  building.   She  left  BAC  in  1985  to  become  the  Artistic  Director  of  the  West  Yorkshire  Playhouse.       Allegra  –  So  the  questions  I  have  for  you  are  most  going  to  be  historical  because  there  is  not  a  huge   amount  left  from  the  period  when  you  were  at  BAC  except  for  board  papers  and  a  few  bits  and   pieces.  So  my  first  question  is  how  did  you  arrive…how  did  you  come  to  get  the  job  at  BAC  and  what   attracted  to  you  it  in  the  first  place?     Jude  –  Well  it  was  advertised  as  the  Founder  Artistic  Director  of  the  Battersea  Arts  Centre  which  was   going  to  be  a  new  independent  charitable  trust.  And  I  was  then  Artistic  Director  of  Solent  People’s   Theatre  which  was  a  touring  community  company.  And  all  my  career  has  been  about  place  and  how   you  give  place  meaning  through  arts.  So  I  was  interested,  I  sent  away  for  the  plans  because  it  was   about  community  revitalisation  and  when  I  got  the  plans  and  I  realised  how  big  the  place  was,  how   big  and  sprawling,  I  was  fascinated.  I  went  on  the  bus  from  Piccadilly  because  I  had  a  meeting  at  the   Arts  Council,  a  number  19  bus  I  think  from  Piccadilly  to  Battersea  and  realised  that  as  you  were   travelling  on  the  bus  the  opportunity  and  poverty  levels  changed  dramatically.  So  that  the   circumstances  of  Battersea  were  much  more  degraded  than  the  circumstances  of  Piccadilly,   obviously,  but  I  mean  so  markedly  and  I  though  this  is  appalling.  They  showed  me  round  Battersea   and  it  was  completely  deserted  and  covered  in  dust.  It  had  been  an  arts  centre  run  by  the  local   authority  and  then  the  Tories  came  in  and  they  shut  it  down.  And  then  there  was  a  massive   community  campaign  to  keep  it  reopen  it.  And  that’s  when  there  was  a  decision  to  establish  an   independent  trust.  When  I  went  through  the  doors  it  was  like  the  Marie  Celeste  because  you  could   feel  it  was  a  place  that  had  had  life  but  had  no  life  any  longer.  And  the  most  important  space  for  me,   well  there  were  two  most  important  spaces,  one  was  the  place  that  was  the  café  because  you  could   feel  that  with  the  right  love  and  care  it  could  be  a  just  wonderful  centre  for  artists  and  communities   to  meet.  And  the  second  was  the  Chamber  which  again  like  great  places  they  contain  their  histories  so   this  history  of  a  democratic  space  in  which  debate  was  held  about  the  future  of  that  community  in   Battersea,  I  loved  the  resonance  of  a  place  like  that.  So  I  instantly  thought  yes  I’ll  do  this,  hoping  I’ll   get  the  job  offered  to  me,  because  I  felt  I  could  populate  it  with  ideas  and  that  it  was  a  natural  place   for  community  and  artists  to  come  together  because  I  think  a  lot  of  these  places  have  former   histories,  if  you  take  the  best  quality  of  what  their  former  history  was  you  can  carry  on  pursuing,   within  a  slightly  different  frame,  I  suppose  essentially  what  you  would  call  democratic  purpose  or   certainly  the  idea  of  congregation.  And  so  then  I  got  the  job.  I  then  looked  at  the  building  as  a  series   of  spaces  that  could  have  enormous  flexibility  and  possibility  and  I  created  the  bookshop,  a  really   good  bookshop,  on  the  right  hand  side  as  you  go  in,  it  was  a  wonderful  bookshop  because  there  was   no  bookshop  in  the  area  at  all.  The  café  which  was  thriving  and  made  the  café  have  a  cabaret  space  as   well.  So  we  always  had  jazz  and  late  night  comedy.       A  –  Did  you  build  that  stage?     J  –  Yes.  I  built  the  disabled  darkroom,  don’t  know  that’s  probably  not  still  there?     A  –  Upstairs?  

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  J  –  No,  it  was  next  to  box  office.     A  –  No  that’s  not  still  there.     J  –  It  was  a  really  important  scheme  for  people  with  a  disability  to  do  photography.  We  won  an  award   for  disability  because  I  built  all  the  ramps  and  everything  to  do  with  making  the  space…the  disabled   lift,  that  was  all  to  do  with  the  year  of  the  disabled.  I  turned  the  downstairs  space  on  the  left  had  side   in  to  another  studio  space.  And  through  the  doors  on  the  right  hand  side  in  to  a  cinema.  And  we  had   children’s  cinema  and  adult’s  cinema,  it  was  really  thriving.  Then  the  downstairs  pottery  we  had  three   potters  in  residence.  I  don’t  know  whether  they  still  do  have  any  of  those  things?       A  –  Some  of  them,  the  studio  theatre.  Not  the  pottery.  I  think  they  went  when  Paul  Blackman  came.       J  –  Shame.  We  had  three  potters  in  there,  pottery  classes,  ceramics,  ceramic  artists.  And  I  extended   that  to  make  them  artist  residency  spaces.  Then  upstairs  we  built  the  bar  which  wasn’t  there  before   because  it  was  all  just  gallery  before  which     A  –  Was  that  all  one  big  space  then?  Or  was  it  subdivided?     J  –  It  was  subdivided.  Then  there  was  the  main  chamber  which  when  I  was  there  I  converted  gradually   in  to  a  raked  space.     A  –  So  when  you  arrived  did  it  have  the  old  Council  seating  in  it?       J  –  Yes.       A  –  And  then  you  put  a  retractable  rake  in?     J  –  Is  it  retractable  now?     A  –  Yes.     J  –  Yes  I  think  I  put  that  in.  And  then  there  was  the  Puppet  Centre  and  then  you  went  upstairs  and  we   had  silk  screen  artists,  graphic  artists…     A  –  So  a  huge  variety     J  –  Very  mixed  artform  which  is  what  I  love,  wasn’t  just  theatre.  For  example,  the  studio  on  the  left   hand  side  we  strong  committed  to  dance.  And  then  when  I  was  there  I  also  tried  to,  I  drew  up,  I  drew   up  plans  as  well…     A  –  Did  you?     J  –  To  turn  the  back  halls  in  to  a  used  space  with  an  atrium  and  everything.       A  –  Because  they  at  that  time  were  still  being  run  by  the  Council  and  you  were  running…     J  -­‐  …there  was  a  huge  row…they  were  very  unsupportive  

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  A  -­‐  ..were  they  doing  anything  with  them?     J  –  No  they  had  wrestling,  occasionally,  boxing,  it  was  really  underused.  And  I  really  wanted  to  use  it.   So  I  had  these  plans  drawn  up  which  included  an  atrium,  they  must  be  somewhere.  It  was  politically  a   real  problem.  The  woman  who  was  then  the  arts  officer  for  Wandsworth  felt  I  was  going  to  do  her  out   of  a  job  so  she  really  fought  a  campaign  to  make  sure  it  couldn’t  happen.  And  part  of  the  business   plan  for  investment  would  have  been  made  so  much  easier  with  a  much  bigger  space.    And  you  could   have  made  a  much  bigger  impression  in  terms  of  celebration.  We  did  this  big  outdoor  festival  on   Mayday  every  year  all  the  way  down  the  side  of  the  building,  stalls  and  stages  and  everything,  so  as   much  as  we  could  we  did  use  the  outside  as  well.  But  it  was  limited.     A  –  And  also,  in  terms  of  the  activity  you  want  to  do,  a  sense  of  division  between…that’s  a  huge  part   of  the  building’s  performative  history  and  sense  of  occasion…     J  –  But  it  was  sort  of  dormant  most  of  the  time  so  it  was  great  when  Tom,  no  it  wasn’t  Tom,  David,  got   Punchdrunk  to  do…that  worked..     A  –  Got  it  opened  up     J  –  But  I  think  that,  it’s  a  long  time  since  I  was  there,  1985  I  left,  a  long  time.     A  -­‐  But  you  had  your  own  theatre  company  there.  The  New  Theatre  Company?       J  –  That  was  towards  the  end.     A  –  And  what  was  that  about?     J  –  That  was  about  creating  very  ordinary  local  community  based  theatre,  that  really  ordinary  very   very  local  people  could  come  to  because  they  felt  it  was  there’s.  And  the  kind  of  audiences  that  came   to  it  were  very  different  from  those  who  might  come  to  a  touring  fringe  theatre  show.  Of  course  we   got  local  audiences  but  local  audiences  from  all  different  kinds  of  backgrounds.  The  working  class   black  and  white  audiences  didn’t  feel  automatically  bound  in  to  fringe  theatre  at  all.  We  did  this  show   called  Southside  which  had  hip  hop  dancers  and  beat  boxers  that  was  in  1983  so  it  was  really   innovative.  With  local  dancers.  There  weren’t  that  many  mixed  race  cast  shows  at  that  time  either.   We  did  Aladdin  as  well,  a  pantomime.  It  was  quite  popular  work  a  bit  like  Hackney  Empire’s   pantomime.     A  –  Do  you  think  that  the  things  that  you  started  at  Battersea  in  terms  of  community  building  around   a  space  that  you  took  that  to  West  Yorkshire  Playhouse,  Royal  Festival  Hall,  I  mean  you  keep  doing  it…     J  –  Yes,  that’s  what  my  work  is,  that’s  what  I  believe  is,  as  an  artist,  I  think  my  art  is  about  making  this   relationship  between  space,  memory  and  community.       A  –  What  do  you  mean  by  memory?       J  –  People’s  sense  that  a  place  can  belong  to  them  and  that  a  place  holds  for  them  memories  of  when   they  were  there  and  what  happened  to  them.  And  just  when  you  have  when  you  have  something   quite  problematic  like  when  people  say  that’s  a  space  that  I  don’t  belong  in  that’s  a  space  I  don’t  

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feel…every  time  you  feel  I  am  not  part  of  that,  I  don’t  belong,  that’s  a  little  chip  in  your  heart,  and  if   that’s  local  to  you  then  that’s  really  terrible  because  it’s  your  neighbourhood  but  not  that  bit.   Particularly  when  it’s  a  big  civic  space,  it’s  different  when  it’s  a  Polish  club  or  something  you  think   that’s  not  necessarily  my  tribe  but  when  it’s  a  big  civic  space  and  you  say  I  don’t  belong  there  then  I   think  that’s  a  terrible  indictment  of  the  idea  of  generosity  and  equality.  So  yes  all  my  work  as  an  artist   has  been  about  creating  interactive  moments.  And  the  architectural  possibilities  are  key  to  that.  So   for  example,  the  reason  I  have  come  here  and  would  never  go  to  the  Barbican  is  because  the   architecture  of  this  site  is  built  completely  permissively  around  the  Festival  of  Britain  concept  of   everybody’s  imagination  counts,  which  makes  it  literally  a  space  for  transparent  interaction  whereas   the  Barbican,  in  my  opinion,  is  built  around  a  completely  different  notion  of  being  impressive.  And   although  the  teams  in  the  Barbican  can  do  lots  of  things  about  inclusiveness  you  can’t  make  the   architecture  speak  of  that.  And  I  felt  that  Battersea  Arts  Centre  also  had  very  inclusive  architecture.  I   think  that’s  partly  to  do  with  that  period,  the  Victorian  period,  although  we’re  very  critical  of  some   aspects  of  Victorian  period  it’s  actually  shot  through  with  philanthropy  and  social  purpose  and  you   can  feel  that  in  the  architecture.       A  –  It  was  about  building  a  building  big  enough  to  represent  the  number  of  people  living  in  Battersea   at  the  time  and  that  massive  population  and  they  felt  they  needed  somewhere  they  could  all  be   together  and  meet  and  represented  the  size  of  the  community  that  was  there.  And  I  understand  more   now  what  Metal  is  because  I  hadn’t  managed  to  link  that  in  my  head  to  what  you  being  Artistic   Director  of  South  Bank  and  what  the  connection  is?     J  –  Well  the  connection  is  this  space  was  built  from  a  social  philosophy  and  you  have  to  recapture  it.   That’s  your  obligation  I  think.  In  a  historical  context  your  obligation  is  to  pick  up  the  ropes  from  the   previous  generation  where  they  have  laid  down  ideas  struggled  to  change,  and  the  obligation  is  to   keep  it  going  and  I  felt  that  this  place  had  lost  its  connection  with  its  past.     A  –  Do  you  think  it  did  that  when  it  went  through  its  refurbishment  process?     J  –  No,  long  before  that.  I  think  it  went  through  it,  an  erosion  of…being  in  the  arts  is  not  the  same  as   having  a  philosophy,  being  in  the  arts  is  not  the  same  as  investigating  the  moral  purpose  not  of  the   arts  but  the  moral  purpose  behind  sub  diving  the  arts.  The  reason  why  taxation  has…why  we  have   decided  that  as  a  society  that  the  arts  should  be  subsidised  is  to  do  with  the  human  right  to  art,  article   27  of  the  Human  Rights  Declaration  so  then  you  say  well  where  are  we  evidencing  that  and  what  are   the  great  strides  were  made  that  speak  of  those  things  and  this  was  one  of  them.  But  I  don’t  think  it   was  talked  about  from  the…it  wasn’t  talked  about  from  when  they  pulled  the  Festival  of  Britain  down   which  they  did  deliberately  because  the  conservatives  came  in  and  they  thought  it  was  too  much  of  a   Labour  project.  Metal  is  looking  at,  the  same  thing  really,  we’ve  taken  possession  of  Edgehill  station   which  is  the  oldest  working  station  in  the  world  in  one  of  poorest  communities  in  Europe  and  it  will   reopen  in  September,  all  the  bits  that  were  derelict  as  a  working  community  artistic  space.  If  you  look   up  the  history  of  Edgehill  it’s  where  the  first  trains  ever  in  the  whole  world  left  one.  Stevenson’s   Rocket  left  from  Edgehill  Station.  You  talk  about  the  moment  of  propelling  us  in  to  the  world  of  the   modern  age  and  there  you  have  that  incredible  significance  of  the  modern  age  and  there  you  have  a   community  that’s  one  of  the  poorest  in  Europe.  And  I  wanted  to  do  something  that  was  about   recovering  and  starting  new  memories  that  were  positive.  In  Southend  which  is  Chalk  Hall  we  are   doing  something  slightly  different  which  is…it’s  in  a  park,  it’s  a  Grade  II  listed  building  in  a  park,  a   Georgian  hall,  using  the  hall  as  symbol  of  environmental  connection  because  it’s  in  a  park.  We’re   working  with  Bill  Dunster  the  architect  and  we’ve  transformed  it  in  to  a  carbon  neutral  space  which  is   quite  difficult  to  do  with  a  Grade  II  listed  space.  Then  we’re  working  with  the  gardeners  and  the  

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community  creating  allotments  and  vegetable  patches  and  got  the  restaurants  to  take  the  produce.  I   suppose  what  I’m  saying  is  that  spaces  have  enormous  meaning  and  some  of  them  are  really  toxic.   You  have  to  do  things  to  detoxify  them.  And  if  spaces  were  built  with  wonderful  purpose  then  go  back   and  find  a  purpose  that  is  in  alignment  with  it  so  that’s  what  I  was  trying  to  do  with  Battersea.  I  mean   it’s  hard  for  other…people  who  don’t  share  that  particular  passion  they  wouldn’t  see  it  in  that  light,   they’d  just  think  you  were  doing  something  to  do  with  the  arts  but  it’s  more  than  that.     A  –  I  think  it’s  interesting  that…I  like  the  idea  that  in  a  space…I  feel  like  over  some  of  BAC’s  history  the   space  has  been  fought  more  than  it  should  have  been  maybe…     J  –  In  Battersea?  Yes  absolutely     A  –  I  mean  you  do  fight  a  building  no  matter  what  you’re  doing  in  it,  but  I  think  taking  more  of  the   memory  of  the  building  and  why  it  was  built  for  and  who  it  was  built  for  and  working  more  with  that   and  less  of  trying  to  just  turn  it  in  to  the  thing  that  you  want  to  do  is  probably  a  really…working  with  it   in  a  much  more  powerful  way.     J  –  Metal  in  London,  which  is  asleep  at  the  moment,  where  I  started  Metal  from  which  I  think  is  still   on  the  website  is  an  old  railway  ticket  office  in  West  Hampstead.  I  walked  in  there  and  it  hadn’t  been   used  as  a  ticket  office  for  years.  There  was  a  metal  worker  in  there  who’d  been  there  for  50  years.  As   soon  as  I  walked  in  I  knew  that  it  was  this  incredible  space  and  in  your  memory  you  can  see  all  the   people  arriving  to  buy  a  ticket.  And  you  can  see  what  an  intense  community  experience  when  trains   had  just  been  invented.  ‘Where  are  you  going?’  ‘I’m  going  to  so  and  so’  the  idea  of  sharing  stories,  it’s   so  potent.  And  Cedric  Price  was  a  great  friend  of  mine,  the  architect,  do  you  know?...     A  –  No  I  don’t.       J  -­‐  Oh  well  you  must,  you  must  read  Cedric’s  work.  You  will  be  so  happy  to  have  discovered  him.  Sadly   he  died  a  couple  of  years  ago.  He  was  a  wonderful  wonderful  man.  We  were  talking  about  that  space.   And  he  said  you  ‘must  divide  the  space  by  light’.  That’s  both  a  physical  and  meta-­‐physical  statement.   Defining  the  space  by  light  is  a  really  powerful  thought  about  all  kinds  of  things.       A  –  Louis  Cane  is  the  other  architect  I  have  heard  who  think  like  that  in  terms  of  the  light  and   temperature  of  the  space.     J  –  Yes  so  when  I  was  at  Battersea  I  deeply  loved  the  building  and  I  still  do  but  of  course  once  you   leave  you…because  you  can’t,  you  can’t  have  it  both  ways,  you  can’t  leave  and  also  feel  possessive,   because  it’s  just  unacceptable,  so  you  just  have  to  stand  by  and  watch  other  people  do  what  they   were  going  to  do.  And  I  think  that  David  and  now  the  Davids  who  the  people  who  are  in  touch  with   what  I  was  talking  about  too.       A  –David  did  say  of  all  the  people  who’d  been  artistic  directors  since  you  came  he  felt  closest  in  terms   of  what  he  hoped  to  achieve  in  the  building  to  what  you  had  been  trying  to  do.     J  –  Yes,  that’s  true.  So  I  have  great  respect  for  him  and  what  he’s…and  then  again  because  he’s   working  from  intuition  and  the  values  he’s  got…he’s  not  got  a  kind  of  ‘grand  projet’  and  going  well   this  is  what  I  feel  like  doing..    

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A  –  This  is  how  I’m  going  to  fit  it  in.  It  is  more  responsive  to  the  actual  building.  David  once  told  me   about  you  had  Michael  Vale  come  in  at  the  last  moment  of  the  Royal  Festival  Hall  being  refurbished   and  asked  him  to  sort  of  put  an  artist’  eye  and  I  just  wanted  to  ask  you  quickly  about  bringing  an  artist   in  to  a  process  like  that  and  what  that  means  and  why  you  would  do  that?     J  –  Really  important  I  think  to…architects  don’t  necessarily  see  people  in  the  space.  I  know  they  think   they  do.  But  I  am  not  sure  they  do.  And  artists  are  always  about  paradigm  shifts  and  you’ve  got  to  find   ways  of  leaving  enough  opportunity  for  those  shifts,  those  reinventions  of  space,  those  rearticulating   of  space  to  happen  and  if  you’ve  bound  their  feet  in  some  ways  as  spaces,  sometimes  you  cant  do   that.  So  it  is  about  leaving  boltholes  for  the  imagination  to  go  in  to  and  be  a  virus.       A  –  Thank  you.    

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Appendix  7     th Interview  David  Micklem,  Battersea  Arts  Centre,  19  June  2009     David  Micklem  was  Executive  Director  at  BAC  from  May  2007  to  March  2008,  covering  Rosie   Hunter’s  maternity  leave.  He  became  Joint  Artistic  Director  of  BAC,  partnering  David  Jubb,  in  April   2008.  Prior  to  that  he  was  Senior  Theatre  Officer  of  the  Arts  Council  England  working  at  the  national   office.       Allegra  -­‐  Could  you  describe  your  perception  of  BAC  before  you  arrived,  and  where  you  came  from?     David  -­‐  My  history  with  BAC  goes  back  probably  to  the  late  nineties  when  I  first  started  work  with   David  Jubb  who  was  the  only  producer  here  at  BAC  when  Tom  Morris  was  Artistic  Director.    He  and  I   worked  on  a  couple  projects  when  I  was  at  the  Arts  Council,  as  a  funder,  and  with  him  as  a  producer.     And  even  in  those  early  days  there  was  really  a  synergy  between  the  kind  of  work  that  he  liked  and   the  kind  of  work  that  I  liked.    Two  of  the  projects  that  we  really  coalesced  around  were  David  Gale’s  I   am  Dandy  which  I  think  David  [Jubb]  took  to  the  Edinburgh  fringe  in  2000  or  2001,  then  his  work  with   Ridiculusmus  who  I  have  always  been  a  fan  of.    So  I  was  working  at  the  national  office  of  the  Arts   Council  as  Senior  Theatre  Officer  and  my  chief  role  at  that  stage  was  looking  after  the  National   Touring  Programme,  so  supporting  artists  and  producers  to  distribute  their  work  nationally  and   internationally.    Very  quickly  David  became  a  trusted  client  of  the  Arts  Council.  So  even  though  there   was  no  formal  relationship,  whenever  there  was  an  application  from  David  about  the  projects  he   wanted  to  develop  I  took  notice  and  felt  it  was  worth  trying  to  find  a  way  to  support.    I  have  always   been  drawn  to  BAC  as  an  institution  because  of  the  building  and  because  of  the  focus  David  and  Jude   and  Tom  have  always  placed  around  the  producer  and  what  the  producer  can  do  to  help  bridge  the   links  between  the  artist  and  the  audience.    So  I  always  felt  there  was  a  powerful  magnet  at  the  top  of   Lavender  Hill  drawing  me  this  way.         So  I  worked  for  the  Arts  council  for  almost  six  years  and  I  have  got  to  say  I  had  a  ball.  I  was  there  at  a   very  good  period  of  growth,  2001  to  2007.    I  arrive  in  the  first  year  in  the  major  increase  in  theatre   funding  that  ACE  had  at  its  disposal.    I  came  into  an  organisation  that  was  in  a  position  to  be  quite   bold:  there  is  some  good  work  happening  over  there,  lets  put  some  resource  behind  it,  lets  nurture   them  and  grow  them.    I  had  clients,  I  had  a  number  of  companies  I  was  the  lead  officer  for,  companies   like  Forced  Entertainment,  Complicite,  Improbable.    I  had  the  National  Touring  Programme  budget  of   £14  million  per  year  and  I  had  managed  funds,  which  are  basically  funds  which  you  decide  how  they   should  be  spent.    In  my  first  year  I  had  around  £900,000  of  managed  funds.  So  I  was  in  quite  a   significant  position  of  authority  and  it  was  a  great  time  to  be  there.    There  was  lots  of  room  to  make   things  happen.    I  could  be  a  bit  of  a  producer.    I  had  a  fantastic  boss  in  Nicola  Thorold,  who  is  now  on   our  [BAC’s]  board,  Head  of  Theatre  for  that  time.    But  after  five  years  lots  of  those  resources  had  been   stripped  away.  I  no  longer  had  the  clients,  the  National  Touring  Programme  was  delegated  to  the   regions.       A  -­‐  What  happened  to  the  clients?    Did  that  relationship  change  structurally?     D  -­‐  Yes,  clients  also  went  to  the  regions,  so  Forced  Entertainment  went  to  the  Yorkshire  office,   Improbable  to  the  London  office  and  so  on.    So  I  had  no  clients,  no  National  Touring  budget  and  in  my   final  year  I  had  no  managed  funds.    So  I  became  a  report  writer.    There  was  a  wonderful  coincidence   when  I  had  David  ringing  me  to  say  ‘Rosie  [Hunter]  is  going  on  maternity  leave,  do  you  fancy  making  

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an  application  to  BAC?’  and  my  thinking  ‘I  have  got  to  get  out  of  the  Arts  council  now,  I  have  done  my   job’.     A  -­‐  Can  you  explain  the  changes  in  the  Arts  Council?     D  -­‐  It  was  a  change  in  the  relationship  between  the  national  and  the  regional  offices.    It  is  always   changing,  which  is  the  frustrating  thing.    Back  in  the  mid  nineties  there  were  ten  regional  arts  boards   and  then  there  was  the  national  arts  council.    And  the  national  council  looked  after  all  the  national   clients,  so  the  national  touring  companies  and  the  National  Theatre,  ROH.    The  regional  arts  boards   looked  after  all  the  regional  clients.    And  the  Arts  Council  granted  the  regional  boards  funds  but  there   was  no  formal  relationship  between  them.    Then  the  year  I  joined  there  was  a  merger,  all  the  regional   arts  boards  became  one  Arts  Council  and  the  power  of  the  national  office  began  slowly  to  dribble   away.    When  I  started  working  at  there  they  had  a  staff  of  fourteen  and  now  there  are  two,  and  they   are  just  report  writers.    The  national  office  is  the  strategic  body.    They  don’t  have  any  funds,  they   don’t  have  any  clients.    So  a  significant  change.     The  other  connection  between  me  and  BAC  is  in  my  final  year  a  teamed  up  with  Roanne  Dods,  the   Director  of  the  Jerwood  Foundation,  who  like  me  had  a  similar  passion  for  wanting  to  shine  a  light  on   the  role  of  the  producer  and  we  talked  about  a  number  of  interventions  we  might  make  together  to   raise  the  profile  of  the  producer.    And  I  guess  the  most  practical  outcome  of  that  was  this  book,  The   Producers,  which  we  co-­‐commissioned  and  published  in  2007.    Of  course  David  Jubb  was  chapter  four   or  five  of  that  book.    Again  that  was  another  chance  for  me  to  reconnect  with  David  and  get  under  the   skin  of  his  thinking  and  his  philosophy.  And  again  that  just  further  cemented  the  sense  that  we  had   very  similar  outlook  on  the  world,  on  what  theatre  is  and  what  it  could  be.    We  both  shared  an  anger   about  certain  kinds  of  theatre,  which  probably  got  too  much  of  the  subsidy  and  the  attention  for  too   long.     A  -­‐  That  is  actually  related  to  my  next  question,  probably  also  linked  to  why  you  came  to  BAC,  which  is   what  do  you  think  is  important  about  theatre,  why  you  make  it  and  who  do  you  think  it  is  for?     D  -­‐  This  is  all  going  to  sound  very  bombastic,  but  I  think  theatre  can  change  people’s  lives,  I  genuinely   do.    It  certainly  changed  mine.    And  it  continues  to  do  so,  even  as  I  get  older,    I  think  it  has  a   transformative  power,  as  does  music,  as  does  visual  arts,  as  does  opera  for  some  people.    But  for  me  I   think  theatre  has  the  most  transformative  power.  And  I  think  it  can  transform  anybody.  Whether   you’re  2  or  102,  from  a  very  poor  background,  or  you’ve  had  the  most  extraordinary  education   actually  theatre  can  have  a  transformative  power.  And  I  want  to  reclaim  theatre  as  a  term  that   doesn’t  mean  well  educated  middle  class  white  people  putting  on  ties  and  buying  gin  &  tonic  and   going  out  and  seeing  something  cerebral  and  complex.  It  is  that  but  it  is  also  about  having  a  shared   experience  which  is  profound  and  moving  and  theatre  whilst  it  can  be  a  play  but  it  can  also  be  a  one   on  one  performance.  It  can  even  be  a  wedding,  I  think  some  of  the  most  theatrical  experiences  I’ve   had  have  been  people’s  weddings  where  they’ve  really  thought  about  narrative  and  journey  and   story.  So  I’m  really  excited  about  that  notion  that  we  might  reclaim  that  notion  of  theatre  so  that  14   year  old  down  the  road  in  ten  years  time  says  ‘yeh  yeh  I’m  going  to  my  local  theatre  to  Beatbox,  or   kickbox,  or  push  weights’  or  whatever  it  is:  a  theatre  is  a  place  where  people  come  together  to  have   an  extraordinary  and  creative  experience.  Yes  very  keen  to  reclaim  theatre  because  I  think  it  has,  in   this  bubble  theatre  means  something  very  different  to  the  man  on  the  37  bus  which  is  gin  &  tonics   and  nodding  off  a  bit…    

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A  -­‐  Yes,  I  re-­‐read  that  opening  page  of  2005  OctoberFest  “Is  Theatre  Any  Good?”  and  the  responses  of   people  when  David  was  walking  up  and  down  saying  ‘so  what  do  you  think  theatre  is’…‘lots  of  people   sleeping  at  the  same  time’…  ‘Shakespeare’…     D  –  Yes.  Again  you  will  have  heard  this  from  the  other  David  is  the  thing  that  really  unites  us  in  our   love  of  theatre  is  about  the  role  of  the  audience,  the  centrality  of  the  participant  in  the  work.     A  –  How  did  you  come  to  that?    You  worked  at  the  Arts  Council  and  you  named  some  of  the  people   who  were  your  clients  like  Forced  Entertainment  and  obviously  companies  that  probably  put  quite  a   strong  emphasis  on  that.  And  was  it  from  seeing  that  kind  of  work  or  how  did  you  come…     D  –  Yes.  I  was  the  Senior  Theatre  Officer  and  I  was  the  lead  officer  for  contemporary  performance  so  I   was  charged  with  developing  strategies  and  supporting  work  that  was  that  would  be  defined  as   contemporary  performance.  So  that  was  experimental  devised  physical  theatre,  street  arts,  outdoor   performance,  circus,  puppetry,  so  I  was  providing  the  policy  lead  for  all  that  work.  And  over  five  years   I  really  developed  a  taste  for  that  stuff,  you  know  I  travelled  extensively,  I  saw  a  lot  of  work  in  unusual   spaces,  and  saw  what  it  could  do  to  people  which  isn’t  about  people  falling  asleep  together…     A  –  Did  you  have  a  moment  where  you  went  ‘ah’,  was  there  a  first  time,  or  a  was  it  a  series  of   different  performances,  is  there  anything  you  can  remember…     D  –  The  thing  I  am  most  proud  of  is  the  Elephant  in  that  I  played  a  pivotal  role  in  bringing  it  over  and   then  became  Associate  Producer  working  with  Artichoke  to  bring  it  to  the  UK  and  to  bring  it  to   London.  In  watching  people’s  response  to  that  project  in  Nantes  in  France  when  I  first  saw  it  and   watching  it  again  in  London  and  seeing  people’s  response  you  know  it  was  an  extraordinary  work  of   art.  What  was  most  extraordinary  about  it  is  that  you  were  in  a  group  of  ten  thousand  people,  one   hundred  thousand  people,  a  million  people  on  a  Sunday  witnessing  something  together,  talking  to  the   person  next  to  you  who  you’d  never  met  who  was  standing  next  to  you.  There  was  a  wonderful  story   that  somebody  told  me  watching  the  elephant.  They  were  watching  the  finale  and  a  man  picked  up   this  woman’s  daughter  and  put  her  daughter  on  his  shoulders  and  they  watched  the  finale  together   and  only  then  did  she  turn  to  this  man  and  realise  she  didn’t  know  him.  And  you  know  to  be  in   London  where  we’re  all  fearful  of  paedophiles  and  terrorism  and  all  these  terrible  happening  to  have   that  experience  that  makes  you  drop  your  guard  and  relish  each  other’s  humanity  is  I  think  profound   and  unbeatable.  Sometimes  rock  concerts  do  that  to  people  too,  big  public  moments  that  are   spectacular  theatrical  moments,  for  me  it  is  that  kind  of  work  that  really  reminded  me  the  role  the   audience  can  play  in  that  work.       A  –  You  say  you  saw  a  work  in  a  lot  of  unusual  spaces  and  this  brings  us  on  to  a  question  about   spaces.  Was  there  a  point  when  you  realised  that  maybe  that  relationship  with  the  audience  that  a   significant  part  of  that  had  to  do  with  the  kind  of  space  you  were  in?     D  –  Definitely.  I  think  partly  for  thee  presentation  in  that  different  spaces  can  add  another  character   in  performance  whereas  black  box  theatre  spaces  tend  to  be  an  absence  of  character,  it’s  all  about   what’s  happening  on  stage  and  the  audience,    it’s  not  about  the  room  playing  a  role.  But  I  think  it’s   also  important  in  the  making  work.  As  you  know,  this  gaff  makes  a  lot  of  work  and  I  think  the  DNA  of   these  walls  often  ends  up  in  the  work  that  you  then  see  on  a  stage  in  Sydney  Australia  three  years   after  the  work  has  bubbled  out  of  BAC.  I  think  architecture  informs  work,  informs  the  making  process   and  I’m  kind  of  excited  about  that  too.  I  think  sterile  performance  environments  often  create  sterile   work.  

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  A  –  That’s  reminded  me  about  you  talk  about  Kneehigh’s  work.     D  –  Yes  very  much.  I  think  the  work  that’s  least  successful  that  Kneehigh  have  done  is  the  work  that   they  have  never  made  a  second  of  in  Gorran  Haven.  But  actually  Tristan    Yseult  when  I  saw  it  in   Sydney  you  know  you  can  smell  the  sea  even  though  it’s  twelve  thousand  miles  away  and  two  and  a   half  years  since  they  first  made  it  there’s  still  something  of  the  dust  of  those  barns  that  still  inhabits   the  work.  So  yes,  I’m  really  interested  in  that  notion  that  the  two  way  process  that  artists  pick  up  the   part  of  the  DNA  of  the  building  and  the  building  picks  it  up  from  the  work.  You  walk  around  this   building  and  the  traces  of  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  or  Don  John  are  very  evident.  I  like  that  notion   that  the  building  is  putting  on  other  clothes  over  a  history  and  one  day  we  might  pull  back  some  of   those  clothes  and  have  a  look  underneath  them  and  say  ‘oh,  look  there’s  1927’  [1927  is  a  theatre   company’s  name]       A  –  I  think  it  would  be  lovely  to  have  one  wall  which  is  rainbow  like  with  the  layers.     D  –  You  could  be  like  an  archaeologist  and  chip  through     A  -­‐  Leave  a  strip  of  each  with  a  tag  at  the  bottom     D  –  And  in  a  hundred  years  all  the  rooms  would  be  much  smaller  they  would  have  accreted  all  these   other  layers.       A  –  I  suppose  that  brings  us  on  to  this  building  and  we’re  what  working  on  in  the  building.  Just  to  start   could  you  describe  to  me  what  Playgrounding  is?     D  –  Playgrounding  is  an  artist  centred  approach  that  examines  architecture  and  theatre  through   playing  space.  That’s  probably  not  as  clear  as  I  can  make  it.  It’s  a  process  of  collaboration  between   st artists  and  an  architect  in  our  example  here  to  discover  a  21  century  arts  centre  in  a  former   municipal  building,  Town  Hall,  and  it’s  playful,  defined  by  playfulness,  and  the  notions  of  discovery   and  mistake,  I  really  love  the  notions  of  mistake.  I  went  to  talk  that  Grayson  Perry  was  giving,    the   visual  artist  and  he  was  saying  that  in  his  studio  he  has  a  bin  and  around  the  bin  he  has  etched   creativity  is  mistakes.  I  just  love  that  notion.  The  whole  notion  of  Scratch  is  about  making  mistakes  in   public.  And  people  going  ‘what’  or  ‘that  bit’s  good’  and  that  feeds  the  work  and  accretes.  My   understanding  of  Playgrounding  is  that  it’s  a  process  that  encourages  artists  to  take  risks  and  make   mistakes  and  make  huge  discoveries  by  exploring  their  practice  in  three  dimensions  working  with  an   architect  to  explore  the  building.     A  –  As  it’s  been  going  through  this  process,  I  suppose  what  you’re  talking  about  is,  also  significantly  is   a  timescale,  and  quite  a  longer  timescale  that  would  be  considered  for  an  architectural  process.  Could   you  talk  a  bit  about  trying  to  marry  a  theatrical  timescale  and  an  architectural  timescale.       D  –  I  think  this  is  a  process  that  will  never  end.  I  think  that’s  a  real  positive.  I  remember  talking  to   Steve,  he  doesn’t  remember  this,  but  in  about  1999,  no  probably  2000  after  the  Royal  Court  had   opened  and  he  was  talking  about  how  they’d  done  some  work  to  the  Royal  Court  but  that  it  was  just  a   moment  on  a  line  of  what  further  iterations  of  that  building  must  be  and  I  guess  whilst  we  think  of   st th ourselves  being  on  a  five  year  process  to  create  a  21  century  theatre  in  a  19  century  Town  Hall  the   end  of  that  five  year  period  will  just  be  a  moment  in  time  whether  it’s  David  and  I  or  other  people  I   hope  we  will  continue  that  exploration  that  sense  of  play.  Don’t  know  if  you’ve  had  a  chance  to  look  

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at  the  first  floor  rooms?  They  are  without  doubt  aesthetically  beautiful,  clean  surfaces,  stripped   floors,  brilliant  for  Andrew’s  Events  team,  if  I  had  one  anxiety  it’s  that  they’re  finished.  If  I  was  going   in  as  an  artist  I  think  I  would  probably  ask  somebody  before  I  screwed  something  to  the  floor  or   painted  a  bit  of  wall.  Whereas  in  this  room  which  is  clearly  in  the  process  of  evolution  of  change  I’d   risk  it,  I’d  make  that  intervention,  and  I  am  sure  we  will  find  a  way  of  working  with  our  Production  and   Premises  team  to  get  them  to  understand  that  whilst  it’s  beautiful  now  it  will  be  even  more  beautiful   when  Felix  Barrett,  or  Emma  Rice  or  Tassos  Stevens  make  some  changes  to  those  spaces.  I  think  one   of  the  inherent  push  and  pulls  of  this  Playgrounding  process  is  that  it’s  got  to  work  for  artists  but  it’s   also  got  to  work  for  our  Events  team.  You  know  our  Events  team  have  got  a  significant  income  target   to  hit  every  year,  much  easier  to  hit  it  now  with  perfect  sanded  floors,  perfect  clean  magnolia  walls.   Again  David  and  I  were  talking  about  this  the  other  day,  there’s  a  bit  of  us  that  thinks  we  could   actually  make  more  money  out  of  those  spaces  if  an  artist  went  in  and  made  changes  to  them  which   weren’t  about  neutrality,  which  weren’t  about  steady  state.  You  remember  that  bit  of  the  exposed   ceiling  in  the…     A  –  I  was  so  sad  that  it  was  gone.     D  –  Me  too,  that  was  the  most  exciting  bit  about  the  space.  And  my  heart  sunk  when  I  saw  it  had   gone.  Of  course  it  had  to  go  because  it’s  very  hard  for  Andrew  to  sell  that  room  to  anybody  when  it   just  looks  like  a  flood.  But  like  you  I  am  so  wedded  to  it  because  it  makes  the  room  have  a  personality,   it  tells  a  story  and  it  tells  whatever  story  you  want  to  give  it,  it  could  be  about  a  flood,  and  that’s  now   gone,  that’s  now  been  covered  up.       A  –  The  push  pull  between  the  Events  and  the  Theatre  side  which  is  a  business  pull  which  has  always   been  there  in  the  organisation  particularly  with  the  Grand  Hall  which  has  always  been  there  but   there’s  also  inside  the  Theatre  team  there’s  a  desire  to  preserve  elements  of  the  past  and  the  ghosts   but  then  there’s  also,  I  know  we’ve  had  discussions  where  artists  have  just  said  ‘I  just  want  it  clean’.  I   remember  those  shell  doors,  the  fight  to  keep  them.       D  –  Again  I  am  sure  she  wouldn’t  mind  me  saying  this  but  I  had  a  lot  of  very  feisty  conversations  with   Emma  Rice  when  she  was  here  with  Don  John  about  the  foyer.  Because  to  her  as  an  artist  the  foyer  is   a  hangover  from  Masque  of  the  Red  Death.  And  she  wants  when  Don  John  is  here  for  Don  John  to   infect  the  rest  of  the  building  in  the  was  that  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  did  the  year  before  that.  And   so  there  were  lots  of  conversations  where  she  wanted  to  paint  all  of  these  walls  the  magnolia  colour.       A  –  Why  did  she  want  to  do  that?     D  –  I  think  not  because  she  had  a  better  or  stronger  visual  aesthetic  in  mind  but  because  she  wanted   to  eradicate  the  sense  or  presence  of  that  other  show.  We  were  having  a  conversation  this  morning  at   Arts  Admin  all  about  sustainability  and  climate  change  and  how  theatre  has  got  a  long  way  to  go   before  it  even  makes  first  moves  to  becoming  much  more  sustainable  and  we  talked  about  recycling   and  the  reason  why  people  don’t  recycle  sets  is  because  of  ego,  it’s  because  of  designer,  it’s  almost   the  last  thing  they  would  do.  They  would  sell  their  grandchildren  before  they  said  ‘yes,  I’ll  use  that  flat   and  that  window  in  my  set’  because  then  it’s  not  really  feeling  like  it’s  their  work.  I  think  Emma’s   feeling  about  the  foyer  was  similar.  While  she  didn’t  have  a  strong  feeling  about  what  it  should  be  in   the  world  of  the  show  she  definitely  had  a  strong  feeling  that  it  shouldn’t  be  the  world  of  the  previous   show.      

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A  –  Great  artists  are  so  often  control  freaks  wanting  to  manage  every  year.  I  often  wonder  why   costumiers  keep  costume  cupboards.  Because  they  will  go  in  to  it  and  nothing  will  be  quite  right  and   they  will  make  everything  from  scratch.  Like  a  good  costume  they  would  be  see  as  being  one  that  was   made,  fresh,  new,  different,  from  anything  else  before.  Well  done  for  keeping  it.     D  –  We  reached  an  agreement  that  we’d  give  her  that  wall  and  then  we’re  exiting  the  world  of  Don   John.  So  we’re  going  back  in  to  an  arts  centre  that  has  enough  a  life.  But  yes  it’s  tough,  I  think  that  is   one  of  the  tough  things  about  Playgrounding  there  is  that  artistic  desire,  as  visual  artists  do,  to  start   with  a  blank  canvass.  And  we’re  not  doing  that.  We’re  saying  that  this  is  a  canvass  tons  of  paintings  on   it  already  and  we  just  want  you  to  leave  another  one.     A  –  Do  you  think  there  is  a  challenge  there,  if  we’re  not  providing  a  blank  canvass,  is  BAC  as  a   producer  making  too  many  decisions  for  the  artist.       D  –  I  think  if  an  artist  felt  that  then  we’re  probably  not  thee  right  organisation  for  an  artist  to  work   with.  If  an  artist  wants  to  come  in  a  to  a  perfect  black  box  white  space  whatever  it  is  and  develop  a   clean  piece  of  work  then  we’re  not  the  right  context.  It’s  not  being  pejorative  about  their  work.  It’s   just  not  harmonious.  In  the  same  way  that  if  an  artist  doesn’t  really  get  Scratch.  I  won’t  mention   names  but  I  know  some  directors  who  will  come  to  first  day  of  rehearsals  with  a  book  like  this  and  its   th Monday  18  June  and  today  it’s  10am  and  we’re  going  to  do  this  and  this  and  this  and  you  guys  are   going  to  stand  there  and  I’m  going  to  get  you  guys  to  do  all  that  sound  stuff  and  we’re  going  to  break   for  lunch  between  2  and  2.15  and  you  know  the  show  is  already  made.  And  that  is  a  brilliant  way  of   making  work.  Like  a  Katie  Mitchell  way  of  making  work.  And  the  work  is  brilliant.  But  we  couldn’t   make  that  work  here.  Because  we  don’t  work  like  that.  We  want,  as  Emma  Rice  does,  first  day  of   rehearsals,  let’s  play  some  music,  let’s  have  a  dance,  you’ve  seen  it  down  in  Gorran  Haven,  it  can  feel   quite  chaotic,  it  can  feel  quite  oxygenated  that  everybody’s  got  stuff  to  throw  in  and  then  she  begins   to  tease  out  the  story.  I  guess  the  parallel  I’d  like  to  quickly  draw  there  is  when  decisions  are  taken,   when  decisions  are  made,  again  not  being  pejorative  but  Katie  Mitchell  tends  to  make  all  her   decisions  in  the  homework  stage  in  the  pre-­‐rehearsal  stage  and  I  guess  the  polar  opposite  of  that  who   is  Emma  Rice  who  makes  lots  of  decisions  very  late  and  who  pumps  lots  of  oxygen  in  to  the  process  to   ensure  those  decisions  can  be  taken  late.  And  I  guess  in  terms  of  architecture  we’re  really  keen  to   follow  that  process  where  we  don’t  lock  down  decisions  and  go  right  ‘it’s  like  that,  let’s  do  it,  let’s   commit’  and  in  fact  with  Don  John  as  you  know  we  went  through  three  iterations  of  a  seating  format,   or  two  before  we  came  to  the  third  one  which  was  the  right  one.  And  we  probably  spent  thousands  of   pounds,  probably  tens  of  thousands  of  pounds  in  consultants’  time  working  up  schemes  that  we   didn’t  go  with.  I  think  that’s  absolutely  valid.  I  think  we  ended  up  with  the  right  solution  but  we  only   ended  up  with  the  right  solution  by  going  down  some  of  the  wrong  routes  first.  And  some  of  that   thinking  will  benefit  us  in  the  longer  term  because  we  may  well  return  to  some  of  those  other   solutions  but  a  standard  architectural  process  would  have  locked  down  that  asymmetrical  design  and   said  ‘right,  nobody’s  going  to  change  their  mind,  great  let’s  go  for  it,  let’s  commission  the  build,    let’s   commission  the  contractors,  let’s  go  for  it’.  And  we  would  all  have  been  sitting  there  on  the  opening   night  thinking  why  did  we  do  it  like  this,  this  isn’t  quite  right.     A  –  Can  you  talk  a  bit  about  the  A-­‐M  process  architecturally  and  what  kind  of  challenges  you  think   Playgrounding  poses  to  that?     D  –  I  think  the  fundamental  challenge  of  the  process  of  Playgrounding  is  that  it  requires  a  complete   re-­‐write  of  the  given  received  wisdom  about  how  you  run  an  architectural  process.  In  that  it  says,  

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keep  A-­‐B,  make  A-­‐B  very  very  long,  keep  going  back  to  A  and  B,  when  you’re  at  C  and  D  maybe  go   back..     A  –  That’s  the  main  thing  isn’t  it  that  A  stays  longer  but  even  more  crucially  that  you  find  ways  of   looping.     D  –  Yes  and  actually  because  we  have  a  multi-­‐phase  project  it  enables  you  to  do  that.  You’re  not   taking  the  whole  building,  the  whole  ten  million  pound  project  and  saying  ‘let’s  move  it  all  to  D,  all  on   board  yup,  right  let’s  go  to  E’  what  we’re  actually  saying  is  that  we’ll  do  the  Grand  Hall  so  let’s  go  to  D   with  that,  and  going  to  D  with  that  will  help  inform  some  of  the  A  and  B  thinking  around  the  rest  of   the  building.       A  –  One  more  question.  The  conversation  with  Axel  and  Tom  Morris  made  me  realise  how  significant,   I  mean  Axel  said  ‘You  cannot  underestimate  how  significant  it  was  that  the  plans  we  were  making   occurred  within  that  window  of  time  in  which  the  lottery  funding  was  there’  and  he  said  they  were   very  tied  to  that  period  of  time.  And  I  thought  it  was  interesting  from  your  point  of  view  as  both  an   Artistic  Director  here  at  BAC  and  an  ex-­‐Arts  Council  officer  what  your  view  is  on  that  of  Arts  Council   funding  provoking  a  project.  It’s  a  bit  chicken  and  egg  I  suppose.       D  –  Are  you  saying  that  Axel  would  not  have  developed  this  had  it  not  been  for  the  climate…     A  –  I  think  Tom  Morris  wanted  to  do  something  anyway,  he  wanted  to  work  on  the  building  and   because  of  his  wavelength  in  theatre  fought  the  building  perhaps  more  than  we  do  and  it  didn’t  have   everything  he  wanted  it  to  have  but  for  instance,  this  interior  courtyard  Tom  Morris  right  from  the   beginning,  I’ve  read  an  interview  from  when  he  first  became  Artistic  Director  at  BAC  wanted  to  do  a   garden  in  the  heart  of  the  building  something  to  draw  people  in  and  then  suddenly  in  the  space  of  six   months  to  a  year  that  went  from  being  a  garden  to  being,  I  mean  this  was  really  tall,  it  was  like  a   gherkin  like  insertion  in  to  the  middle  of  the  building  with  this  glass  roof  and  a  spiral  staircase  on  the   outside,  aluminium  coated  studio  theatre  with  rehearsal  space,  I  mean  just  incredible  sort  of  thing   and  I  think  Tom  would  possibly  never  have  done  that  if  there  hadn’t  been,  Tom  said  he  was   encouraged  to  think…     D  –  think  bigger  and  bigger.  And  thank  god  it  didn’t  get  built.  The  problem  with  places  like  The  Public   in  West  Bromwich  did  get  built  and  people  sort  of  said  it’s  a  blank  cheque  you  know,  keep  designing,   go  for  your  wildest  dreams,  West  Bromwich  is  a  depressed  part  of  England,  it  needs  something  to   celebrate  something  to  have  fun  with  and  they’ve  ended  up  with  a  building  a  fifty  million  pound   project  that  is  fast  approaching  closure  that  isn’t  wanted  by  the  arts  community  that  isn’t  wanted  by   the  local  community.  So  yes,  the  Arts  Council  and  it’s  capital  lottery  money  has  a  lot  to  answer  for  in   terms  of  pumping  too  much  expectation  around  buildings.  In  many  way  we’re  lucky,  this  sounds  like  a   masochistic  thing  to  say,  but  we’re  lucky  in  that  we’re  not  in  a  period  when  there’s  huge  amounts  of   lottery  money  floating  around  because  it  feels  like  Playgrounding  and  the  notion  that  we’ve   developed  is  true  to  the  spirit  of  what  we  want  to  do  rather  than  being  influenced  by  pots  of  cash  of   there.  We  will  come  up  with  a  project  that  feels  right  for  the  building  that  feels  right  for  the  people   that  use  it,  and  that  will  have  a  number  attached  to  it  and  then  we’ll  go  and  find  that  money,  rather   than  the  Arts  Council  saying  ‘BAC,  ten  million,  twenty  million,  or  fifty  million’  and  then  you  start  to  go   ‘wow,  maybe  we  should  have  a  five  story  gherkin  in  the  middle  of  the  building’.  So  I  think  we’re  not  in   a  period  of  great  excess.  Again  another  thing  you  will  have  heard    David  talk  about  and  I   fundamentally  agree  with  him  is  that  the  more  time  we  spend  at  A  and  B  discussing  and  developing  a   relationship  with  our  architectural  partners  and  having  an  idea  then  having  a  better  idea  then  a  

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brilliant  idea  the  less  money  we’ll  spend  when  we  do  the  big  F  to  N  bit  the  actual  commissioning  and   delivering.  Because  we  have  had  all  those  fantastic  ideas  and  then  destroyed  them  in  the  fantasy   period  of  the  architectural  process  rather  than  in  the  real  build  process  where  you  suddenly  go  ‘oh,   that’s  very  big  isn’t  it,  and  expensive’  so  yes  it  feels  good  that  we’re  in  a  position  where  we  should  be   able  to  fit  the  resources  to  the  project  rather  than  the  project  to  the  resources.  I  do  sound  like  a   masochist.  I  think  it  would  be  terrible  if  it  was  now  1995  to  be  saying  to  our  Arts  Council  officer  Nick   Williams  ‘what  sort  of  level  should  BAC  come  in  at?’  and  him  or  whoever  it  was  then  saying  ‘think   about  ten  million’  or  ‘think  about  fifteen  million’  because  as  soon  as  somebody  has  said  that  you  work   to  that  and  it’s  not  long  before  it  becomes  twenty-­‐five  million.     A  –  It’s  very  hard  not  to  think  within  the  financial  parameters  of  the  time  in  which  you  are.       D  –  I  am  a  great  believer  from  having  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  Arts  Council  of  great  ideas  always   always  always  get  everything,  they  get  attention  they  get  the  money  they  get  the  press  they  get  the   audience,  whether  it’s  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  or  whether,  this  probably  sounds  arrogant,  or  it’s  the   building  project  we’re  embarking  on,  or  it’s  the  next  brilliant  idea  that  we  have  or  it’s  things  that   other  people  are  doing,  good  ideas,  or  it’s  the  Elephant,  the  Elephant  required  an  unprecedented   money  from  the  Arts  Council  in  one  chunk  for  a  foreign  company  to  do  a  piece  of  work  in  London.  I   mean  there  were  lots  of  reasons  why  it  shouldn’t  have  happened.  But  ultimately  it  was  a  fucking   brilliant  brilliant  idea.  And  so  the  money  was  never  going  to  be  a  problem  really.  I  mean  it  was  a   problem  and  it  would  took  a  lot  negotiation  to  make  it  happen.  But  I  have  a  great  confidence  that   because  of  the  purity  of  this  process  that  David  and  Steve  first  developed  and  now  I’ve  sort  of  taken   and  helped  develop  further  because  it  feels  so  principled  I  supposed  and  well  thought  through   whether  it  takes  five  years  or  seven  years  or  three  years  we’re  going  to  do  it  because  it’s  strong,  it’s   really  strong.  I  think  it  will  be  great  for  this  building  and  I  think  it  will  be  great  for  other  arts  projects  to   think  more  holistically  about  how  they  engage  with  users  of  the  building,  your  phrase  about  human   centred  design  process  actually  feed  something  like  an  arts  build  project  or  like  a  hospital  or  school   project.  Wouldn’t  it  be  great  if  every  new  building  was  built  like  this?    

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Appendix  8     th Interview  Steve  Tompkins,  at  his  home  in  Hampstead,  19  June  2009     Steve  Tompkins  is  a  co-­‐director,  with  Graham  Haworth,  of  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects.  He  has   been  working  with  BAC  since  September  2006.  The  company  was  formed  in  1991  and  has  designed   work  for  clients  across  the  public,  private  and  subsidised  sectors  including  schools,  galleries,   theatres,  housing,  offices,  shops  and  factories.     Allegra  –  You  know  what  playgrounding  is  right?     Steve  –  (Laugh)     A  –  I  know  what  you  think  playgrounding  is,  that  sort  of  stuff?     S  –  Yeah,  yeah,  yeah     A  –  So,  …  What  I’ve  ended  up  doing  for  the  dissertation,  maybe  I’ll  just  give  you  a  little  bit,  it’s  not   very  long,  but  um…  It’s  about  how  architecture  relates  to  theatre.  It’s  a  chronological  look  at  it,  but   taking  the  BAC  as  a  specific  example,  because  the  BAC  has  had  a  number  of  architects  involved  with  it,   so  many  different  approaches  to  it  over  the  years,  it  sort  of  acts  like  a  nice  small  picture  of  how  our   approach  to  theatre  space  has  changed.  In  particular,  obviously,  the  Levitt  Bernstein  project  because   that  was  the  most  developed  before  you  came…     S  –  Was  there  another  one?     A  –  Not  another  big  project,  but  it  seems  that  when  I  look  into  it,  BAC  has  always  had  an  architect.  It   just  kind  of…     S  –  Oh,  that’s  interesting     A  -­‐  …It’s  just  kind  of  an  ongoing,  so  as  you  go  back  through  the  board  papers,  half  the  redevelopment,   1983-­‐84,  oh  ’87,  then  there  was  one  in  ’85,  then  ’87,  ’91,  1995-­‐96,  so  it’s  just  kind  of  continuous  and   ongoing.  Which  I  think  is  an  interesting  thing  about  that  building  anyway,  but  erm…because  it’s  a   conversion,  it’s  just  always  had  people  tinkering  with  it.  Erm…but  obviously  the  major  examples  are   Levitt  Bernstein  and  you  guys,  but  mainly  just  looking  at  how  we  have  approached  theatre  space  and   so  getting  to  a  point  where  it  says  where  we  are  now  in  our  approach  to  theatre  space.     S  –  Yep,  ok…     A  –  That’s  kind  of  it.     S  –  OK,  great.     A  –  Good…erm,  so  my  question,  it  starts  with,  could  you  describe  the  beginning  of  your  relationship   with  the  BAC,  I  think  it  was  Nick  Starr  who  introduced  you  to  David?       S  –  Yeah,  I’ve  been  working  with  Nick  Starr  for  probably  ten  years,  starting  with  the  temporary   Almeida  project,  he  was  the  executive  director  of  the  Almeida,  the  Gainsborough  studios  and  the  

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Kings  Cross  projects,  and  that  was  great,  formed  a  really  fantastic  relationship  with  Nick.  A  very  sort  of   light  footed,  very  trusting,  straightforward,  very  informal,  cutting  through  a  lot  of  red  tape,  cutting   through  a  lot  of  the,  sort  of,  accepted  procedure  to  get  things  done.  Mainly  because  they  were  such   quick  projects,  well  they  weren’t  like  architecture  projects,  they  were  much  more  like  set  builds,  right   from  the  outset  you’re  working  within  a  different  set  of  expectations,  different  timescales.  Like   Gainsborough  I  think  was  seventeen  weeks  from  phone  call  to  open  night,  so  everything  had  to   happen  within  that  space  of  time  so  there  was  no  room  for  any  sort  of  design  stages,  so  there  was  no   room  for  sign  off,  in  an  sense  was  no  room  to  make  any  decision  more  than  once,  straightforwardly   and  there  was  this  sort  of  headlong,  constantly  trying  to  trim  the  process  so  it  stayed  aerodynamically   stable.  It  doesn’t  just  hit  deck  at  any  particular  moment  and  we  were  negotiating  with  the  leases,  we   didn’t  own  most  of  the  site  until  right  at  the  last  second,  we  didn’t  have  enough  money  to  employ  or   make  contractors  so  we  did  it  with  theatre  people…     A  –  I  read  that  yeah…     S  -­‐  …so  it  was,  it  was  built  with  freelance  chippies,  Kevin  Fitzmaurice,  was  Nick’s  assistant,  and  driving   around  looking  for  raw  materials  and  ringing  up  and  trying  to  get  carpenters  at  the  last  minute  so  it   was  very,  very  direct,  completely  unconventional,  not  a  conventionally  professional  relationship  at  all   and  that  kind  of  set  the  tone  because  we  had  cut  our  teeth  on  small,  exciting  projects,  where  we  had   complete  autonomy,  complete  trust.  And  then  Nick  asked  me  to  do  the  National  Theatre  studio,   which  again  was  great  and  then  after  that  the  National  itself  through  a  much  more  formal  selection   process.  And  in  the  meantime,  through  his  chairmanship  at  the  BAC,  I  think  recognised  that  there   would  be  a  good,  sort  of,  psychologically  profiled  bid  between  me  and  David  Jubb  and  so  it  proved  to   be.  It  sort  of  heated  up  from  the  word  go  and  we  got  excited  about  the  same  things  and  had  the  same   references  and  understood  building,  I  think,  in  a  very  similar  way,  which  was  as  a  sort  of  quarry  of   existential  raw  materials  rather  than  a  problem  that  needs  to  be  somehow  solved…     A  –  Yeah     S  -­‐  …and  therefore,  I  think  the  process  of  working  on  the  BAC  has  been  much  more  about  keeping  the   signals  current  and  buoyant  rather  than  trying  to  wrench  it  into  some  sort  of  national  alternative   version  of  where  the  “problem”,  in  inverted  commas,  has  been  solved  by  professionals,  quite  the   opposite  in  a  way…     A  –  It’s  interesting  that  you  that,  erm…because  the  first  thing  that  Tom  Morris  said  to  me  when  I   started  talking  to  him  was  that,  he  actually  said  that  it  was  a  problem,  that  there  was  a  problem  at  the   heart  of  the  BAC  and,  no  sorry  the  word  he  used  was  “broken”  which  is  actually  better  than  problem,   but  he  did  say  it  was  a  problem,  that  there  was  a  brokenness  about  the  building,  which  they  were   trying  to  rescue  which,  obviously  is  something…     S  –  I  see  it  almost  as  the  opposite,  I  think  it’s  sort  of  a  rich,  deep,  supple,  flexible  beast  that  you  go  and   tickle  and…     A  -­‐  …see  what  comes  up…     S  -­‐  …but  you  don’t,  you  can  never  really  tame  it,  because  it  is  what  it  is  and  it’s  such  a  strong  flavour,   such  a  strong  animal,  that  it  would  be  pointless  to  try  and  wrench  it  into  a  conversion  of  itself,  it   would  just…    

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A  –  Trying  to  change  what  it  is…     S  -­‐  …you’d  somehow  neuter  it,  and  I  think  that  our  instinct  has  been  to  embrace  whatever  is   problematic  about  building  in  conventional  terms  and  turn  it  into  something  exciting  because  actually   that’s  what  artists  tend  to  grip  on.  They  will  always  focus  in  straight  into  what’s  problematic,  what’s   difficult  and  what’s  complex  and  what’s  broken  in  that  sense  and  that’s  the  (wells  grip?)  of  their   creative  response  or  their  creative  engagement  with  the  building  and  so  for  the  architect  to  come   along  at  great  expense  and  to  iron  that  all  smooth  is  evidently  counter  productive  under  those  terms.       A  –  And  so  that  is,  I  suppose  for  an  architect,  that  is  a  thing  unique  to  working  in  a  theatre  and  arts   space?     S  –  I  think  it  is  in  some  ways,  I  think  it  is,  I  don’t  think  there  is  any  other  brief  where  it’s  actively   advantageous  to  leave  the  building  somehow  recalcitrant,  somehow  unyielding,  but  nevertheless   strong  and  capable  of  being  engaged  with.  You  know  even  a  cinema  is  different,  a  school  of  art  is   different,  even  a  music  space  is  different  because  the  extent  to  which  the  artist  engages  with  space  is   so  much  more  shallow  under  the  terms  of  that  conversation.  You  know  with  theatre  space,  the  space   is  intrinsic  to  the  process,  is  intrinsic  to  the  experience.     A  –  And  when  did  that  become  obvious  to  you?  Because  the  sentence  you  just  said  is  not  necessarily   obvious  to  a  lot  of  theatre  makers  even,  I  mean  now  more  so  maybe  than  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago,  but   in  terms  of  your…     S  –  Well  the  sort  of  guest  that  one  would  make  at  the  BAC,  I  think  would  probably  be  a  self  selecting   process  anyway  because  the  artists  that  are  going  to  be  interested  in  working  at  BAC  are  going  to   want  to  have  their  own  autonomy  with  it,  they’re  going  to  want  to  have  their  own  independent  and,   to  a  greater  or  lesser  extent,  untrammelled  relationship  with  the  space,  with  all  its  difficulty  and  all  its   layers  of  memory  and  history  and  politics.     A  –  I  suppose  in  some  way  that  artists  who  approach  work  through  the  scratch  process  will  self   select…     S  –  Will  self  select  so  there  is  an  automatic  netting  procedure  where  you  will  end  up  with  a   constituency  of  artists  who  are  predisposed  towards  that  and  so  you  want  to  leave  as  many  options   open  as  possible.     A  –  When  did  you  start,  what  was  the  first  that  you  worked  on?     S  –  Royal  Court     A  –  Royal  Court     S  –  Easy  ones  first     (Laugh)     A  –  I  watched  that  programme  of  you,  you  know  the  BBC  one?     S  –  Oh,  the  Omnibus  

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  A  –  The  Omnibus     S  –  Yeah,  Yeah     A  –  Yeah,  and  it  was  really  fun,  you  were  saying  “I  think  the  seats  should  be  like  a  Rothko  painting”…     (Laugh)     …which  I  thought  was  a  brilliant  moment.     (Laughter)     S  –  Oh  yeah,  there  are  lots  of  brilliantly  embarrassing  moments.     A  –  Yeah  and  somebody  next  to  you,  you  going  “You  know  Rothko?”  and  the  person  next  to  you  just   going  “…what”…     S  –  “uh  huh…no…”…     (Laughter)     S  –  Moving  on.     A  -­‐  Yeah,  I  suppose  what  I’m  trying  to  understand  is  when  did  your  understanding  of  theatre  develop   to  the  point  where  you  would  work  the  way  you’re  working  at  the  BAC  with  artists?     S  –  I  don’t  know,  I  think  probably  it’s  always  been  in  me,  I  mean  the  reaction  to  the  Royal  Court  was,  I   guess  fairly  particular  in  that  it’s,  you  know  you  can  treat  it  very  roughly  but  there’s  a  sort  of   archaeological  narrative  which  in  some  ways  is  going  to  give  the  building  substance  and  probity  in  a   way  that  doing  that  sort  of  more  conventional,  more  oppositional  new  versus  old,  that  sort  of  tired   cliché  of  architecture,  of  refurbishment  where…     A  –  Bring  in  the  old  thing…     S  –  Yeah,  and  there’s  a  kind  of  uninterrogated  assumption  that  the  architect  will  do  something  which   is  kind  of  slippery  and  so  called  contemporary,  offered  in  radical  juxtaposition  to  something  which  is   kind  of  old,  therefore  implicitly  obsolete  or  no  longer  potent  whereas  my  reaction  was  the  opposite,   it’s  actually  a  glomeration,  the  accretion  of  cultural  raw  materials  and  memory,  which  is  the  thing  that   is  precious.  Which  is  the  thing  to  be  extrapolated  and  treasured  and  somehow  commandeered  for   artists  to  engage  with.  That,  that  seems  to  be  something,  that’s  the  gift  of  working  with  old  buildings   because  they  have  those  intersecting  narratives.     A  –  they  bring  you  so  much  to  start  with.     S  –  Yes,  they  are  there  to  be  uncovered,  ignored,  or  kicked  or  abused  or  loved,  but  the  point  is  that   the  choice  is  there  for  the  artist  and  you  don’t  lock  that  off  by  somehow  bracketing  it  as  redundant   material  or  simply  an  aesthetic  prop  to  your  own  new  invention.  Does  that  make  sense?    

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A  –  No  it  does,  in  terms  of  what  a  lot  of  people  have  done  in  old  building,  you  do  get  a  sense  they’ve   kept  the  brick  wall,  like  walking  past  a  glass  cabinet  in  a  museum…     S  –  Yes  and  they  have  somehow  fetishised  it  or  locked  it  off…     A  –  So  it’s  not  actually  part  of  the  functioning  building…     S  -­‐  …it’s  no  longer  current,  it’s  no  longer  vital,  it’s  somehow  been  neutralised.     A  –  When  you  first  came  to  BAC  I  suppose  the  first  major  document  was  Fuzzy  Logic,  a  beginning  of   thinking  about  what  Playgrounding  was.     S  –  Yes,  like  a  sort  of  stream  of  consciousness  document  really.     A  –  Can  you  define  what  you  see  Playgrounding  is  being  and  how  it’s  different  from  working  a  more   traditional  way.     S  –  What  excites  me  about  Playgrounding  is  that  a  recognition  of  the  reality  of  creative  process  which   is  absolutely  non-­‐linear.  It’s  repetitive,  it’s  about  feeling  relaxed,  it’s  about  the  ability  to  be   vulnerable,  to  trust,  and  to  be  in  a  situation  where  you  can  make  a  fool  of  yourself  but  you  can  make   a  fool  of  yourself  in  a  serious  environment,  you  can  make  a  serious  fool  of  yourself…     (Laughter)     S  –  And  I  recognise  that  in  terms  of  my  own  design  process  and  I  always  flourish  when  I  am  in   conditions  where  we  can  think  the  unthinkable  or  have  utterly  rubbish  ideas  which  will  suddenly  distil   into  something  meaningful  or  something  serious  or  something  real.  And  it’s  the  ability  to  hold  those   ideas  in  your  peripheral  vision  in  a  state  of  flux  for  long  enough  that  they  can  subliminally  mature  as  it   were  and  then  they  are  really  ideas,  they  work  harder.  Whereas  if  you’re  constrained  in  to  this  linear   series  of  you…I  was  saying  this  to  David  earlier…you  have  the  idea  at  a  certain  stage,  and  then  there’s   the  deadline,  and  then  the  idea  at  a  certain  stage  is  signed  off..     A  –  It’s  almost  as  if  the  idea  almost  stops  mattering     S  –  The  idea  is  history  and  it  can  never  be  changed  and  that  idea  has  been  paid  for  with  good  money,   thank  you  very  much,  so  you  never  say  ‘you  know  that  idea  you  paid  for  it  turns  out  it  was  rubbish,  it   was  rubbish,  and  here’s  a  better  idea.  In  most  circumstances  that’s  embarrassing.  But  with   playgrounding,  it’s  like  ‘how  fantastic,  now  we’ve  had  another  idea’  and  so  it’s  making  concrete  what   most  artists  go  through  anyway  and  particularly  in  architecture  we  pretend  we  don’t  because  we’re   infallible  professionals  and  we’re  expensive  infallible  professionals  more  to  the  point  and  so  the  room   for  what  would  otherwise  be  seen  as  error  is  miniscule  and  if  you  want  to  change  your  mind  you  have   to  do  it  by  subterfuge…     A  –  And  pretending  that…     S  –  yes,  the  circumstances  have  changed,  there’s  a  technical  reasons,  a  health  and  safety  reasons,  you   can’t  just  say  ‘I’ve  changed  my  mind,  it  turns  out  it’s  a  crap  idea  and  here’s  a  better  one’.     A  –  It’s  interesting,  that’s  saying  that  the  process  doesn’t  treat  architects  as  artists.  

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  S  –  I  think  that’s  the  point.  And  one  thing  that  we  have  found  this  process  is  that  it’s  not  only   architects  that  flourish  by  being  treated  as  artists  it’s  everyone,  from  building  control  officer  to  listed   building,  to  maintenance  officer…     A  –  to  fire  officer…     S  –  Absolutely,  you  say  here’s  a  creative  problem,  help  us  solve  it  with  your  own  creativity  given  your   specialist  knowledge  and  your  enthusiasm  and  given  our  respect  for  your  knowledge  and  enthusiasm,   come  and  help  us  solve  this.  God,  it’s  just  transformative.  Completely  transformative.     A  –  I  think  it’s  amazing  that  in  one  review  for  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  the  reviewer  actually   congratulated  the  health  and  safety  officer.     S  –  Sure,  and  quite  rightly  so,  because  it’s  a  real  creative  active  of  faith,  it’s  a  piece  of  artistry  to  pull   that  off  and  to  trust  that  it’s  ok,  it’s  going  to  work,  and  it  did  work.  It’s  something  I  think  particularly  in   the  UK  our  arteries  have  got  so  congealed  with  process  and  with  customer  practice  that  when  there’s   an  alternative  version  that  presents  itself  it’s  seen  as  revelatory  but  as  we  know  when  you  go  outside   the  UK  it’s  absolutely  standard  practice.  To  us  it’s  shocking  and  marvelous  and  inspiring.     A  –  That  was  funny  walking  around  Sao  Paolo  with  you  and  the  pain  on  your  face  occasionally  walking   down  a  really  nice  staircase  and  you  just  going…       (Laughter)     S  -­‐  Why  can’t  we  do  this?       A  –  I’d  have  to  have  a  break  here  and  a  banister  here     S  –  Absolutely,  all  that.  So  that’s  the  thing  that  Playgrounding  helps  us  get  back  to,  it’s  a  rediscovery  of   innocence  which  for  me  is  inherently  creative.     A  –  And  do  you  think  it’s  possible  with  that  question  that  you  asked  Vicky  [Heywood,  Executive   Director  of  the  RSC],  I  think  you  said  something  about  ‘are  the  definitions  actually  unhelpful  of   architect  and  client  and  tendering’,  do  you  think  it’s  possible  to  change  that  system?       S  –  I  do,  I  have  to  think  that.  It  was  a  disingenuous  question  of  course.  In  a  project  like  that  there’s  so   much  money  and  so  much  risk  riding  on  it,  it’s  very  difficult  to  stay  buoyant  and  the  whole  idea  of  risk   management  is  abut  closing  those  processes  down.  But  I  would  argue  that  if  you’re  actually  trying  to   manage  the  risk  of  the  thing  you  end  up  with  being  rubbish  then  we  have  to  be  more  imaginative.   And  so  actual  risk  management,  in  the  widest  sense  is  about  loosening  up  those  processes,  and   people  like  project  managers  having  the  imagination  and  the  guts  and  the  insight  to  say  ‘ok,  my  job  is   enabler  and  protector  of  the  creative  process,  my  job  is  not  about  nailing  creative  people  to  the  floor   before  they  are  ready  to  be  nailed  down  or  to  frighten  or  bully  people  in  to  never  changing  their   mind’  because  that  is  simply  crass.  So  I  think  the  best  project  managers,  the  best  health  and  safety   officers,  the  best  fire  officers,  they  know  that  and  they  know  that  their  job  is  inherently  creative  but   when  it  comes  all  about  procedure  and  the  be  all  and  end  all  is  on-­‐time,  on-­‐budget  you  can  still  end   up  with  a  rubbish  building…    

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A  –  You  loose  sight  of…     S  –  But  within  their  narrow  definition  they’re  not  to  blame.  That’s  where  the  real  danger  lies.  And  it’s   like  anything,  it’s  about  the  calibre  of  the  individual.     A  –  So  I  suppose  Playgrounding,  in  a  way,  devolves  responsibility  because  it  makes  all  those  people   responsible  for  not  just  delivering  their  bit  but  for  the  quality  of  the  overall…     S  –  for  the  creative  output  of  the  process  and  that’s  revolutionary.  As  soon  as  you  make  a  project   manager  responsible  for  the  creative  output  rather  than  just  the  procedural  output  then  suddenly   they  become  protagonists  and  empathetic  with  the  creative  design  process,  rather  than  standing  on   the  sidelines  ‘well  this  is  all  very  well  but  you’ve  changed  your  mind  twice  already  and  you  can  only   change  your  mind  three  times  according  to  the  contract’.       A  –  I  just  started  thinking  about  Teatro  Oficina  and  the  people  involved  in  that.  Do  you  think  it’s   possible,  and  if  anywhere’s  possible  then  BAC  probably  is,  but  Lina  Bo  Bardi  worked  on  that  space  for   the  last  ten  year  of  her  life…ten  years…     S  –  That  seems  about  right  to  me  –  I  don’t  see  how  you  can  do  it  much  less.  You  want  to  have  the   space  to  make  a  proposition  architecturally,  see  how  it  works,  tweak  it,  understand  it,  accept  where  it   works  and  where  it  doesn’t  and  evolve  it.  That  seems  to  me  to  be  the  luxury  of  working  with  buildings   that  have  been  around  for  100  years  and  will  be  around  for  another  100  years  you  have  got  time  to   actually  go  back  and  reconsider  and  maybe  that’s  part  of  what’s  special  about  BAC  is  an  acceptance   that  we’re  dealing  with  slow  architecture.  We  don’t  parachute  in,  hit  the  headlines,  and  disappear  on   to  the  next  icon.  It’s  about  a  really  genuine  emotional,  intellectual,  engagement  with  the  place  which   goes  on  and  is  a  proper  relationship,  so  it’s  a  committed  relationship.     A  –  I  thought  it  was  interesting  those  talks  they  gave  about  the  Curve.       S  –  It  was  like  Charles  and  Diana.     A  –  Both  talking  but  neither  of  them  looking     S  –  Both  of  them  looking  in  opposite  directions.       A  –  And  her  saying  I  met  him  but  the  time  it  was  built  it  was  no  longer  an  interesting  project.  Oh  it’s   made,  boring,  next  thing.  I  suppose  it’s  the  opposite  of  that.  That  is  the  other  thing  from  looking  at   what’s  happened  to  BAC,  I  get  the  sense  that  BAC  will  always  always  be  in  the  middle  of  stages  A  to  B     S  –  Serial  feasibility  study     A  –  It  will  by  the  end  have  changed  and  the  interventions  will  have  happened  and  it  will  have   increased  its  capability  to  do  x,  y  or  z  but  it  will  always  feel..     S  –  I  think  that’s  so  interesting.  I  think  you’re  probably  right  to  an  extent  in  that  in  some  ways  the   most  important  part  of  the  process  is  pumping  ideas  in  to  the  early  stages  of  the  process.  And  then   letting  them  go,  letting  them  be  and  not…     (Tape  change)  

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  A  –  Obviously  one  of  the  massive  challenges  of  a  process  like  Playgrounding  is  to  the  actual   infrastructure  of  A-­‐M,  not  just  the  ideas,  it’s  about  how  architects  get  paid,  the  legal  infrastructure  of   it…     S  –  I  think  that’s  as  interesting  as  anything  because  it’s  the  thing  that  I  believe  stops  us  having  more   projects  like  because  there  is  still  a  mentality  of  well  we’ve  got  to  make  a  profit,  otherwise  we’ll  go   bankrupt,  there’s  few  architects  working  off  private  incomes.  You’ve  got  to  run  a  business.  So  to  have   conversations  like  this  you’ve  got  to  streamline  it,  and  I  don’t  know  how,  so  it’s  still  cost  effective.  And   just  talking  to  David  just  now,  I  think  the  answer  to  that  is  probably  to  keep  the  conversation  quite   tight  for  as  long  as  possible.       A  –  You  mean  with  not  too  many  people.     S  –  Yes.  If  we’d  done  this  project  again  you  wonder  whether  it  would  have  just  been  a  longer   conversation  between  individuals  until  the  brief  and  the  ideas  had  somehow  crystallised  and  that’s   fairly  cheap,  and  then  bring  in  a  design  team.  I  don’t  know  if  that’s  right  or  not.  Because  the  design   team  I  work  with  and  my  team  in  the  studio,  they  are  all  artists  in  their  own  right.       A  –  And  you  think  about  what  those  people  have  already  contributed.       S  –  Enormous  amounts.  Maybe  that’s  rubbish.  But  there  might  be  a  point  where  you  would  extend   the  me  and  Felix  and  David  moment  for  a  month  longer  and  you  could  just  edit  out  a  few  of  the  cul  de   sacs  we  went  down  before  we  had  to  have  a  design  team  involved.     A  –  But  then  surely  you  get  in  to  the  process  of  trying  to  evaluate  which  I  suppose  you  have  to  anyway   financially,  of  how  many  cul  de  sacs  are  ok.       S  –  Sure.  But  I  think  I’m  saying  you  can  have  as  many  cul  de  sacs  as  you  like…     A  –It’s  how  many  people  you  take  down  them.     S  –  If  you’ve  got  a  design  team  of  15  people  coming  with  you  it’s  not  financially  sustainable  either  for   the  client  or  the  design  team.  And  also  there  is  it’s  not  a  universal  joy  to  go  down  15  cul  de  sacs.  A  lot   of  people  in  design  team  up  to  a  point  say,  let’s  have  the  idea  and  let’s  follow  it.     A  –  Not  everyone  wants  to  be  part  of  that  process  of  having  the  wrong  idea  and..     S  –  Not  to  the  same  extent.  There’s  an  enjoyment  about  swilling  round  the  possibilities.  BAC  is  an   extreme  example.  The  Grand  Hall  was  a  really  interesting  example.  We  took  it  a  long  way,  spent  a  lot   of  money  developing  an  idea,  which  we  then  abandoned,  summarily,  for  the  right  reasons,  but  if   we’re  going  to  do  that  again,  we  probably  wouldn’t  have  gone  about  it  in  that  way,       A  –  with  all  those  people..     S  –  we  would  have  pissed  that  much  money  at  it.  We  wouldn’t  have  spent  that  much  design  team   time.       A  –  Who  do  you  think  should  have  been  there  during  that  process?  You,  Emma,  David,    

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  S  –  Vicky,  Gavin  probably.     A  –  So  a  few  more  of  those  moments  that  we  had  in  the  Grand  Hall  that  morning     S  –  Yes  but  with  less  people.  In  a  way  that  was  the  high  watermark  of  my  frustration  with  the  process.   Where  there  was  lots  of  people,  the  lines  of  communication  and  authorship  were  absolutely  foggy.   And  even  to  the  extent,  you  know,  probably  through  my  own  fault,  wasn’t  aware  how  far  the  process   had  gone  and  where  the  authorial  voice  was  lying  at  the  time.  And  because  I’ve  got  a  huge  amount  of   time  for  Vicky  and  I  respect  her  enormously  I  felt  inhibited  about  saying  ‘I’m  not  sure  about  that’  or   ‘could  we  look  at  it  another  way’  because  it  was  unclear  how  far  the  conversation  had  gone  in  one   direction.  So  there’s  an  underlying  discipline  about  these  processes  which  will  make  the  free   exploration  more  efficient  more  productive.  I  think  it’s  a  mistake  to  think  of  it  as  let’s  all  just  everyone   sit  around  talk  about  it  until  we’re  exhausted.  I  don’t  think  that’s  the  way  the  answer  lies.  Maybe   we’ve  been  guilty  of  that.       A  –  The  way  you  were  describing  it  earlier  reminds  me  exactly  of  how  someone  like  Emma  Rice  makes   work.  Because  instead  of  someone  like  Katie  Mitchell  you  walks  in  to  a  rehearsal  room  with  Monday   morning  10am  we’re  going  to  do  x  y  z  and  then  we’re  going  to  break  for  lunch,  and  her  work  is   absolutely  incredible,  stunning,  whereas  Emma  walks  in  an  goes  ‘so,  maybe  we  should’  and  she  just   starts  doing  things  where  I  think  if  you  are  part  of  that  process,  depending  on  what  kind  of  person  you   are,  can  feel  really  unsafe,  there  are  actors  who  get  towards  the  moment  where  they  have  to  talk  out   on  stage  and  they  say  ‘I  don’t  what  I’m  doing’     S  –  But  that  is  a  particular  skill  that  architects  acquire,  like  directors.  Comfort  with  uncertainty.  Really   far  in  to  the  process  and  actually  giving  out  confident  signals.  Right  up  to  the  moment  where  you   think  ‘it’s  too  late,  I’m  fucked’.  The  bigger  project  the  more  adept  you  have  to  be.       A  –  Somebody  talking  to  the  Davids  said  ‘it’s  all  very  well  you  working  like  this  but  Steve  Tompkins  is   the  only  architect  in  the  whole  of  England  who  is  prepared  to  work  like  that’  She  was  intimating  that  it   would  never  be  repeated.  I  suppose  that’s  partly  because  it  challenges  the  actual  basic  process     S  –  structure  –  challenges  the  whole  DNA  of  the  transaction,  that’s  what  it  does.       A  –  But  then  there’s  also  how  many  architects,  young  architects,  who  are  prepared  to  be  uncertain.     S  –  I  think  there  are  dozens.  There’s  a  whole  generation  of  architects  who  are  absolutely  born  in  to   that  process  and  I  think  the  process  we’ve  come  from  will  look  increasingly  old  fashioned.  That  might   be  the  single  most  important  thing  that  changes  from  this  generation  of  architects  to  the  next,  is  that   relinquishing  of  that  sort  of  auteur  authorship,  thinking  the  client  doesn’t  know  what  they  want  and   it’s  my  job  to.     A  –  inform  them     S  –  yes,  and  that  whole  cliché  that  the  client  will  only  know  what  they  want  when  they  see  it,  which   strikes  me  as  so  fucking  arrogant,  as  if  you’re  dealing  with  children,  that  you  the  god,  not  only  the   form  giver  but  the  idea  giver,  the  brief  giver,  the  person  who  is  solely  responsible.    

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A  –  There  was  a  lot  of  talk  about  that  at  the  conference,  you  know  the  client  doesn’t  always  know   what  they  want.     S  –  And  sometimes  it’s  true.  You’re  dealing  with  a  local  authority  client  who  says  ‘er,  we  need  a   theatre’     A  –  Yes,  then  you  are  the  artist.     S  –  Then  you’re  the  artist,  then  you’re  the  director.  But  if  you’re  dealing  with  BAC,  the  National,  the   Royal  Court,  the  Young  Vic,  for  God’s  sake.  And  of  course  you’re  absolutely  struggling  to  keep  up  with   the  brief  making  process  which  is  why  we  always  spend  so  long  trying  to  understand  what  the  hell’s   going  on.  And  it’s  only  at  the  point  when  you  feel  you  know  as  much  about  the  organisation  as  they   do  that  you  start  to  run  with  it,  you  start  to  extrapolate  what  they  and  who  they  are,  it  can  take  many   forms,  you  know  you  can  decide  they  don’t  need  the  building  at  all,  they  need  a  change  of   department,  a  change  of  personnel,  they  need  a  divorce,  anything.  But  I  think  that’s  the  architect’s   job  is  to  not  always  unerringly  advice  towards  the  object  which  you  can  then  photograph  and  go  in  to   your  portfolio.     A  –  I  remember  you  saying  that  at  the  beginning  that  ‘we  may  end  up  doing  no  architecture’.  Which  I   think  is  amazing.       S  –  Yes,  well  it’s  amazingly  expensive,  that’s  the  trouble.  A  sceptic  would  say,  nice  work  if  you  can  get   it,  you  spend  two  years  fucking  about,  you  get  paid  through  the  nose  and  you  end  up  doing  nothing,   what’s  that  all  about  Mr.  Architect?  And  you  know  fair  point.  So  there’s  always  balance.       A  –  What  I  haven’t  managed  to  imagine  is  how  a  process  like  Playgrounding  could  contribute  towards   making  new  buildings.  Other  than  spending  longer  in  the  design  phase.  How  would  you  set  out  on  a   new  build?     S  –  Well  Snape  is  interesting  for  that.  Where  it’s  half  refurb  and  half  rebuild.  Where  the  place  became   the  client  on  that  job.       A  –  What  do  you  mean  by  that?     S  –  I  felt  my  prime  responsibility  and  my  prime  informant  was  a  sense  of  place.  And  because  the  brief   was  relatively  straightforward  and  the  clients  aspirations  were  relatively  straightforward.       A  –  So  what  you  were  going  to  gain  traction  from     S  –  Yes,  so  the  intellectual  transaction  was  with  the  place.  And  that’s  not  necessarily  an  existing   building  it’s  about  a  situation.  So  I  think  you  can  playground  place  and  you  can  playground  time  in  the   same  way  that  you  can  playground  the  physical  fabric  of  an  existing  context.  And  so  the  site  doesn’t   necessarily  have  to  be  tangible  physical  raw  material     A  –  But  everywhere  offers  you  something     S  –  Yes  I  think  so  and  you  expand  your  definition  of  site  where  it  gives  you  sufficient  information  to   conduct  a  similar  methodological  interrogation  of  the  project.  So  it’s  about  neighbourhood,  it’s  about   city,  it’s  about  society,  about  cultural  memory.  And  it  can  be  a  flat  site.    

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  A  –  What  about  trying  things  out  like  Scratch?     S  –  More  difficult.  You’d  have  to  expand  your  timeframe  in  to  your  previous  portfolio  of  work  I  guess.   Or  in  to  precedent.  But  I  think  the  context  for  the  project  I  think  expands  until  it  contains  enough  raw   material  to  purchase  on.  With  BAC  that’s  like  white  dwarf  because  it’s  so  dense  that  you  hardly  need   to  look  outside  the  walls  because  it’s  got  it’s  own  gravitational  field  which  is  incredibly  powerful.   Other  projects  would  be  more  diffuse  and  you’d  need  to  gather  more  material  from  further  afield.  But   specificity  is  what  drives  our  practice  as  a  studio.       A  –  One  of  the  main  differences  between  theatre  and  architecture  is  the  timescale  that  they  operate   on.  And  you  talked  about  slow  architecture.     S  –  I’ll  tell  you  my  Star  Trek  anecdote.       (Laughter)     S  –  I  was  just  telling  David  and  he’d  seen  the  same  episode.  There’s  this  brilliant  seminal  Star  Trek   episode  where  one  half  has  been  infected  by  some  kind  of  bug  where  one  half  of  appears  to  the  other   so  slow  they  are  not  actually  moving  at  all,  they  are  just  frozen,  because  their  timescale,  it’s  such  a   brilliant  idea,  whereas  the  other  half  are  moving  so  fast  that  to  the  slow  half  that  it’s  just  like  this  it’s   just  this  [makes  whizzing  sound]  it’s  like  this  high  pitched  whining  –  and  that’s  theatre  and   architecture  they  are  just  completely  analogous.  And  my  job,  I  think,  is  to  kind  of  [more  noise]  wrench   those  timescales  somehow  together  so  that  one  at  last  is  listening  to  the  other.       A  –  The  one  thing  that’s  similar  is  the  specificity.  The  one  thing  that  theatre  has  is  this  need  to  be   specific.  So  for  each  show  there’s  this  incredibly  specific  world  which  you  create  and  the  danger  I   think  when  an  architect  comes  in  that  we  have  been  plagued  by  for  the  previous  ten  years  is  the  need   to  be  multi-­‐purpose  ‘we  want  to  do  this  in  the  space  and  that  in  the  space’  and  the  architect  suddenly   thinks  well  I  have  to  provide  a  blank  canvass  in  order  for  theatre  makers  to  be  specific.  Whereas   actually  that  may  not  be  the  most  helpful  thing  in  order  for  an  artist  to  be  specific.     S  –  I  mean  blank  is  just  dull  isn’t  it?  And  so  I  think  as  artists  we  have  to  provide  the  canvass  but  it   doesn’t  have  to  be  blank.  And  it’s  that  sort  of  under  painting  of,  to  a  certain  point,  perhaps,  and  that’s   where  the  judgement  of  each  project  comes  in,  the  extent  to  which  you  lock  down  the  narrative  of   the  building.       A  –  That’s  the  difficulty  for  an  architect     S  –  Sure.  I  don’t  know  if  it  is  a  difficulty  it’s  a  different  relationship  to  your  ego,  certainly.  And  also  the   fallacy  of  the  cryogenically  frozen  moment  that  you  create  as  a  lone  creative  genius  and  there  it  is   forever.  And  it  never  changes.  And  it  never  can  change.     A  –  Isn’t  that  what  Denys  Lasdun  said  about  the  National?     S  –  It’s  what  I  was  just  about  to  say  is  that  it’s  what  I  am  negotiating  at  the  National.  I  think  there’s  a   sort  of  lazy  version  of  the  National  is  so  perfect  and  so  tightly  wrought  that  it  can  never  change  or   should  never  change  whereas  Lasden  said  the  opposite.  He  said  ‘there  are  certain  things  about  this   building  which  are  permanent  and  it’s  obvious  to  anyone  who  understands  the  building  what’s  

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permanent.  And  I’ve  also  designed  in  other  layers  of  mutability.  And  people  that  unlock  the  narrative   of  this  building  will  understand  what  those  layers  are  and  they  will  be  able  to  work  with  it  and  it  will   be  fine  and  it  will  have  my  blessing’.  That’s  how  I  am  mythologizing  the  project  in  a  Jungian  sense.   That’s  how  I  am  justifying  to  myself.     A  –  The  way  I  understood  it  that  he  viewed  the  architecture  of  the  space  of  the  theatre  of  the  space   as  two  almost  completely  separate  things.  And  he  said  that  you  can  play  with  the  theatre  but  that  the   architecture  is  not  your  business.       S  –  That’s  an  over  simplification.  I  think  he  was  a  much  more  impressive  mind  than  that.  He  knew  that   the  building  would  both  be  a  catalyst  to  and  subject  to  change,  urban  change.  And  I  think  he  would   have  fully  expected  the  building  to  change  and  hopefully  in  the  hands  of  somebody  who  was   sympathetic  to  his  narratives.  I  am.  We  are.  It’s  an  extraordinary  building.  I  can  now  draw  a  plan  or   section  at  the  National,  verbatim.  It’s  like  learning  the  Quran.  It’s  like  I  have  been  to  the  Madrasa  for   two  years.  I  was  saying  to  David  earlier  on,  the  National  and  BAC  they  are  so  parallel  as  propositions.   Because  they  are  both  intensely  beautiful  powerful  complex  spaces.  They  both  need  exchange.  They   are  both  to  some  extent  intractable  and  tightly  wound  and  they  both  have  this  incredibly  strong   presence  and  yet  they  are  both  on  a  creative  roll,  both  doing  extraordinary  things  in  their  own  ways,   and  they  need  that  mediating  layer  of  new  stuff  to  help  them  deal  with  what  they  are  doing  within   the  confines  of  their  spaces.  And  they  both  love  their  spaces  and  they’re  both  maddened  by  their   spaces.  And  the  public  are  probably  in  the  same  position  for  different  reasons.  But  either  project  is   extraordinary  but  to  have  them  running  at  the  same  time.  It  should  be  a  complete  headfuck  but  it’s   not  to  be  constantly  learning  from  one  to  the  other.  It’s  a  complete  joy.       A  –  I  suppose  they  both  share  fundamentally  the  fact  that  you  walk  in  and  get  lost.       S  –  But  also  you  get  transported  by  them  in  their  own  ways.  They  are  both  transporting  spaces.       A  –  The  last  thing  was  a  bit  about  what’s  actually  planned  for  BAC.  So  there  are  five..     S  –  Fuck  knows     (Laughter)     A  –  Well  what  is  currently  planned  for  BAC.  I  wrote  down  the  five…which  is  interesting  because  I  have   been  at  BAC  for  a  year  and  a  half,  two  years  almost  now,  and  there  are  five  key  things  that  we  said  we   were  going  to  do,  and  I  can  never  remember  exactly  what  they  are.  So  I  have  got:  first  floor;  home;  lift   access,  garden,  courtyard  theatre,  those  are  lumped  in  to  one;  grand  hall,  town  hall  road;   infrastructure.       S  –  So  the  idea  is  that  the  building  keep  its  mystique,  its  allure  and  its  direct  availability  to  artists  but   somehow  it  has  the  capability  within  itself  that  you  don’t  always  have  to  go  back  right  to  square  one   every  time  you  want  to  engage  with  the  building.  So  you  don’t  have  to  reinvent  the  wheel  every  time   which  is  exhausting  and  expensive  and  a  drain  on  energy.  So  on  one  level  it’s  about  bringing  the   potential  capability  of  the  building  through  infrastructure.  And  in  a  way  I’d  say  that’s  almost  the  most   important  project  for  the  building.       A  –  The  thing  that  will  make  the  biggest  difference.    

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S  –  I  think  it  will  and  it  will  make  a  difference  in  the  positive  sense,  work  will  be  easier  to  make,  more   work  will  be  made,  more  safely,  and  less  expensively.  The  draw  back  is  of  course  that  you  once  you   deproblematise  the  building  it  becomes  more  frictionless  and  there’s  good  and  bad  in  that.  So  when   you  engage  with  a  raw  found  space  and  you  have  to  have  that  first  complete  virgin  relationship  you   can  probably  never  recreate  that,  and  everybody’s  tried  and  nobody’s  succeeded.  And  so  I  think  the   building  has  to  move  on  it  can’t  adopt  that  sort  of  disingenuous  virginity  because  that  would  start  to   look  ersatz  and  branded,  the  found  space  experience,  rather  than  the  found  space.       A  –  You  end  up  with  something  Globe  like     S  –  Yes  but  more  sadder.  It  is  now  genuine,  authentic,  original  and  whereas  the  Globe  never  was.  And   so  it’s  fine  as  far  as  I’m  concerned  for  what  it  is.  But  I  think  you  have  to  take  on  that  relationship  with   authenticity  to  the  point  where  it’s  moving  forward  and  constantly  drilling  edge  on  what  you  want  to   do  with  the  space.  It  would  be  easy  to  turn  it  into  a  sort  of  heritage  experience.  It  becomes  sort  of   facile,  found  space,  no  problems,  risk  free,  churn  it  out,  do  another  Red  Death,  do  a  yet  another  Red   Death,  or  another,  or  yet  another.  More  or  less.  And  so  how  does  the  architect  to  give  clues  about   how  you  could  make  that  more  complicated  and  how  you  could  start  to  engage  that  with  the   contemporary  and  the  political  because  there  is  a  wonderful  political  continuity  as  well  as  a  physical   continuity  because  of  the  Town  Hall  being  what  it  is  and  its  history.  I  think  that’s  really  interesting.   And  for  me  that’s  something  we  as  architects  can  take  on  and  try  and  somehow  make  manifest.  And  I   don’t  know  how  you  do  that,  no  idea  yet.  Early  days  yet.  And  I  am  glad  we  don’t  how  to  do  it.  Because   it  would  the  wrong  answer.  So  that’s  one  thing  and  the  other  is  to  make  the  building  more  available   and  more  serious,  add  both  light  and  dark.  My  reaction  to  the  Town  Hall  is  that  you  could  sort  of   encapsulate  it  in  to  a  recurring  nightmare  I  had  as  a  kid  where  I’d  be  in  my  house  with  my  family  all   around  me  having  a  party,  it  would  be  playtime,  light  positive,  supportive  but  then  something  would   happen  and  I’d  be  made  to  go  downstairs  and  answer  the  door,  and  I’d  be  banished  from  my  family.   And  I  was  would  be  in  a  space  that  I  didn’t  understand  that  I  felt  frightened  by  anxious  by  and  as  I  got   downstairs  there  would  be  this  kind  of  monster  lurking  there  waiting  for  me  and  I’d  wake  up  in  a   sweat.  I  think  BAC  has  the  potential  to  have  both  of  those  scenes  implicit  in  it.  And  if  we  bowdlerise   the  building  to  where  it  has  only  the  light,  the  playful,  the  accessible,  the  friendly  and  the  welcoming   all  of  which  are  the  buzz  words  without  which  we  would  be  banished  to  the  inner  most  circles  of  hell   by  the  establishment.  So  there’s  that.  But  there’s  also  the  possibility  of  working  with  the  darkness  of   the  space,  the  bits  that  are  frightening,  being  alone  in  a  building  at  night.  Without  quite  enough  light.   And  strange  noises.       A  –  The  building  lives.  [Anecdote  about  staying  in  the  building  late  and  hearing  all  the  strange  noise   the  building  makes  on  its  own.]     S  –  That’s  the  thing  to  commandeer  somehow.  That’s  the  thing  to  protect.  I  think  it  would  be  a  failure   if  we  did  a  sort  of  lottery  number  where  everything  that  was  difficult  or  frightening  was  expunged…      

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Appendix  9     th Questions  answered  by  David  Jubb,  in  an  email,  12  July  2009          A]  First  stint  at  BAC  as  Development  Producer:       1.    How  did  Scratch  start?       Work-­‐in-­‐progress  sharings  existed  in  the  mid  90’s  at  BAC  and  other  London  theatres  including  Oval   House;  often  followed  by  post-­‐show  discussions.  But  these  work-­‐in-­‐progress  showings  were  isolated   in  that  there  was  no  ongoing  developmental  opportunities  for  artists  to  create  work  over  a  long   period  of  time.  There  were  some  exceptions.  For  example  I  ran  a  programme  at  the  Lion  &  Unicorn   Pub  Theatre  from  1998-­‐1999  where  artists  could  present  work-­‐in-­‐progress  for  three  nights  in  every   two  month  season;  some  of  these  shows  then  ended  up  having  a  three  week  run  at  the  pub  theatre.   But  while  the  structure  was  consciously  attempting  to  develop  artists  and  their  work  over  time,  there   was  no  conscious  invitation  to  the  audience  to  feedback  on  the  work  or  a  developmental  frame  that   engaged  artist  and  audience  in  any  kind  of  structured  creative  dialogue.     The  catalyst  to  change  was  the  creation  of  a  work-­‐in-­‐progress  night  at  BAC  when  four  or  five  artists   each  presented  up  to  ten  minutes  of  an  early  draft  of  an  idea.  The  first  “Scratch  Night”  was  presented   in  January  2000  in  The  Shape  of  Things  to  Come  season.  The  journey  to  this  first  Scratch  Night  began   in  several  places.  In  the  British  Festival  of  Visual  Theatre  1999  at  BAC  we  programmed  The  Lion  &   Unicorn  Night  of  Glee;  this  was  a  sprawling,  seemingly  endless  night  of  cabaret  theatre  with  around  a   dozen  artists  trying  out  ideas  in  front  of  an  audience  sparked  a  debate  at  BAC  about  presenting  short   work-­‐in-­‐progress  pieces  to  audiences.  In  the  artist’s  brainstorming  meeting  that  Autumn  there  was  a   discussion  about  the  format  of  possible  Scratch  Night  and  Kazuko  Hohki  coined  the  term  “scratch”  as   an  appropriate  starting  place  for  ideas.  Tom  Morris  had  long  been  thinking  about  how  best  to  support   artists  and  their  developing  work  and  BAC’s  programme  was  ripe  for  a  structured  model.      In  the  Autumn  of  1999  Tom  and  I  (I  became  the  “Development  Producer”  at  BAC  in  August  1999)  also   worked  together  to  develop  ideas  around  the  “ladder  of  development”  which  was  a  structured   approach  to  developing  work  over  time.  We  also  worked  to  develop  other  approaches  to  supporting   artists  at  this  time  including  the  way  we  managed  BAC’s  relationship  with  artists  from  first  contact  to   an  evolving  relationship  over  years  through  new  programmes  like  the  Supported  Artist  and  Associate   Artist  programmes.      The  first  Scratch  Night  was  presented  in  the  Council  Chamber  in  January  2000  and  included  Niall   Ashdown’s  first  scratch  of  Hungarian  Bird  Festival.  There  was  an  audience  of  about  30.     2.    Describe  Tom’s  approach  to  programming  (can  you  mention  what  Shock  of  the  New  means   please?)       I  think  there  were  three  reasons  why  Tom  programmed  visiting  productions  (that  had  not  been   developed  at  BAC)  which  probably  represented  about  half  of  the  programme  in  1999:  the  story   interested  Tom  and  was  told  in  an  interesting  way;  that  Tom  wanted  the  artist  community  (the  artist   brainstorming  list)  to  have  an  opportunity  to  see  the  work;  there  was  a  potential  public  audience  for   the  work.  There  were  probably  loads  of  other  reasons  too  that  I  was  less  aware  of  -­‐  but  the  thing  I   remember  most  was  that  Tom’s  programming  approach  was  brilliantly  instinctive.  The  same  was  true  

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for  developing  work  through  Scratch;  an  additional  factor  in  this  side  of  the  programme  was  Tom’s   own  ability  to  dramaturgically  support  the  development  of  the  work;  a  vital  factor  in  the  success  of   many  shows  at  BAC  during  this  period.     The  Shock  of  the  New  was  a  regular  name  that  cropped  up  as  a  potential  title  for  seasons  or  festivals   at  BAC.  I  think  Tom  loved  what  it  represented;  he  understood  the  mission  of  BAC  to  create  new   theatre  and  he  was  keen  to  present  new  ideas  as  if  they  were  a  bolt  from  the  blue.  I  remember  seeing   a  drawing  in  Tom’s  office  one  day  of  a  rhinoceros  and  commenting  it  was  my  favourite  wild  animal.   Tom  said  he’d  had  an  idea  for  the  front  of  BAC  or  the  front  of  a  theatre  space  for  a  massive  sculptured   rhinoceros  smashing  through  the  theatre  wall.  I  think  that  rhinoceros,  like  the  red  cubes  on  the  front   of  the  building  that  Tom  commissioned  years  later,  are  examples  of  how  Tom  is  interested  in   “surprise”  as  one  of  the  most  vital  and  inspirational  qualities  in  theatre.  One  of  the  questions  on  the   feedback  forms  at  BAC  while  Tom  was  Artistic  Director  was  something  like  “what  was  the  most   surprising  thing  about  the  performance?”  I  remember  Tom  telling  me  when  I  started  at  BAC  as  Artistic   Director  how  important  it  was  to  make  sure  those  questions  on  Scratch  feedback  forms  reflected   what  you  expected  from  the  work  you  wanted  to  develop.  Surprise  was  one  of  his  big  things.     3.    Describe  the  approach  to  space,  in  terms  of  programming,  during  that  time     I  arrived  in  1999  after  the  BAC  capital  proposals  of  the  mid  90s  had  crashed  and  burned  due  to  over   commitment  of  lottery  cash  to  other  capital  projects.  Space  was  very  rarely  discussed  in  programming   meetings.  We  used  the  Main  House  and  two  studios.  Studio  2  was  used  for  more  experimental  work.   Studio  1  for  more  traditional  plays  and  studio  theatre  productions.  The  Main  House  tended  to  be  used   for  more  traditional  work  or  successful  experiments  that  had  grown  through  Scratch.  For  example,  at   the  top  end  of  the  “ladder  of  development”  in  2000  the  rungs  went  from  three  week  run  in  a  studio,   to  a  two  to  three  night  run  in  the  Main  House  in  a  festival,  to  a  three  week  run  in  the  Main  House.   There  was  a  very  clear  hierarchy.     Other  parts  of  the  building  were  occasionally  used:  the  foyer;  the  attic;  the  gallery.  But  the  focus  of   the  production  team’s  efforts  was  on  servicing  the  three  theatre  spaces  and  ensuring  they  ran  as   smoothly.  I  think  it  was  the  producing  team  –  the  introduction  of  Louise  Blackwell,  Richard  Dufty,  Kate   McGrath  and  others  –  who  started  working  with  artists  across  more  of  the  space  over  time.  There  was   a  democratisation  of  the  programming  process  during  this  time,  specifically  as  Tom  spent  more  and   more  time  in  rehearsal  rooms  supporting  or  creating  work,  and  needed  others  to  develop  and  deliver   the  programme.  I  think  the  interest  in  work  in  different  parts  of  the  building  grew  as  did  the   producing  team’s  greater  access  to  programming  decisions  during  the  years  2000  –  2004.     4.    Could  you  define  Tom  Morris’  relationship  with  the  building?    Are  there  any  moments  you  recall  in   particular  that  could  illustrate  this?       I  perhaps  know  more  about  it  now  than  I  did  in  1999/2000.  Now  I  know  about  Tom’s  intended  plans   for  the  building  and  the  creation  of  formal  theatre  spaces  across  the  site  of  the  town  hall.  I  know  that   Tom  was  interested  in  converting  the  Town  Hall  in  to  a  series  of  well  equipped  working  theatre  spaces   and  create  an  extraordinary  place  for  artists  and  audiences  to  hang  out.  I  also  know  that  these  plans   didn’t  come  off  –  something  which  I  think  is  a  good  thing;  for  two  reasons.  Firstly  I  think  the  plans   would  have  hamstrung  BAC  to  present  work  in  ways  governed  by  the  limitations  of  the  theatre   spaces.  Secondly  it  meant  that  Tom  went  on  to  focus  on  developing,  producing  and  directing  work   which  was  massively  beneficial  to  British  theatre  and  BAC.    

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I  don’t  think  Tom  loved  the  building.  I  also  think  his  relationship  with  the  building  was  mixed  up  in  his   relationship  with  the  Council  who  provided  a  reducing  pot  of  funding  to  BAC,  managed  the  building   and  provided  relatively  short  leases  to  BAC.  When  I  applied  for  the  role  of  Artistic  Director  I  asked   Tom  to  help  me  think  about  the  job  and  whether  it  was  for  me.  I  remember  one  of  the  pieces  of   advice  he  gave  me  was  to  think  about  whether  BAC  should  be  based  in  the  Town  Hall  or  not.  Whilst   Tom  was  giving  me  a  really  important  strategic  tip,  to  think  about  the  organisation’s  relationship  with   the  building,  I  thought  that  the  reason  he  asked  that  question  spoke  volumes  about  his  relationship   with  the  space.  I  think  if  he’d  have  stayed  on  at  BAC  he  would  have  looked  for  a  different  home  for   the  organisation.     5.    What  brought  you  and  Tom  Morris  together?     I  was  running  a  pub  theatre  (Lion  &  Unicorn)  in  Kentish  Town  for  Central  School  of  Speech  and  Drama.   Tom  came  to  a  night  I’d  programmed  with  David  Rosenberg  and  Hannah  Ringham  (from  Shunt)  and   after  that  night  invited  me  in  for  a  chat  at  BAC.  We  talked  together  about  the  Lion’s  programme  and   how  it  might  connect  to  BAC.  We  agreed  that  the  Lion’s  programme  would  be  part  of  the  British   Festival  of  Visual  Theatre  at  BAC  in  1999;  there  were  sometimes  satellite  parts  of  the  festival  in   different  venues.  Soon  after  that  conversation  the  role  of  Development  Producer  was  advertised  at   BAC;  a  new  role  supporting  artists.  I  applied  for  the  job  and  got  it.  We  worked  together  for  18  months   at  BAC  and  then  I  set  up  an  independent  producing  company  based  in  the  building  with  Tom’s   support.      What  brought  us  together,  as  two  people  passionate  about  making  theatre,  apart  from  a  friendship,   was  the  relationship  between  artist  and  audience.  The  brochure  of  the  British  Festival  of  Visual   Theatre  2000  shows  the  face  of  Mike  Shepherd  on  one  side  and  Benji  Reid  on  the  other,  close  up,   looking  in  to  your  eyes  as  you  stare  back.  The  potential  of  that  look  between  artists  and  audience  was   what  mutually  excited  us  both:  to  create  that  festival,  and  others  like  it,  together,  as  works  of  passion.     6.    What  would  you  say  was  Tom’s  focus  as  Artistic  Director?    What  was  his  legacy  to  the   organisation?       His  mission  was  creating  “high  quality,  surprising”  work  through  the  “creative  collaboration  of  artists,   staff  and  public”.  I  think  he  was  true  to  that  mission.  I  think  there  was  often  a  tension  between  a   conscious  drive  for  experimental  new  theatre  practice  that  tore  down  the  walls  of  theatre,  like  a   rhinoceros,  and  rather  more  formal  experiments  in  traditional  form  which  felt  as  though  they  were  a   comfortable  part  of  theatre  orthodoxy.     His  legacies  to  the  organisation  are  manifold:  a  reputation  as  a  groundbreaking  UK  arts  organisation;  a   massively  more  stable  funding  position  with  Arts  Council  England;  the  artist  centred  support   structures  of  the  organisation.     B]  Second  stint  at  BAC  as  Artistic  Director:          7.    Can  you  trace  where  the  idea  to  work  more  flexibly  with  the  building  came  from?       During  my  four  years  running  an  independent  producing  company  in  the  building  I  explored  the   building  in  various  ways:  occupying  at  least  three  different  offices;  finding  nooks  and  crannies  for  

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rehearsals;  and  even  sleeping  in  discreet  corners  (in  secret)  when  I  didn’t  have  anywhere  to  live.  I  got   to  know  the  building  very  well;  I’d  begun  to  enjoy  it  as  a  friend  and  even  confidante.      In  terms  of  my  work  on  the  BAC  programme,  as  Artistic  Director,  in  2004,  after  an  absolutely  awful   start  to  being  Artistic  Director,  making  4  staff  redundant,  due  to  a  Wandsworth  funding  cut,  I   programmed  Summer  Holiday  with  the  team.  We  turfed  the  foyer,  created  a  beach,  put  artists  in   different  spaces  in  the  building,  wherever  available,  and  ran  a  three  week  August  festival  of  scratching   new  ideas.  It  was  the  first  thing  I  programmed  with  the  team.  After  the  gloom  of  redundancies  hung   over  the  organisation  like  a  bad  smell,  Summer  Holiday  felt  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  In  2005  I  went   further  with  these  building  experiments.  After  a  couple  of  producing  team  members  left  to  set  up   Fuel,  which  we  helped  them  with  through  a  Jerwood  &  BAC  bursary,  I  recruited  a  new  fledgling  team.   I  programmed  OctoberFest:  Is  Theatre  Any  Good?  in  which  there  was  a  short  theatre  night  BLINK  in   around  8  spaces  across  the  building  and  the  first  Trashy  Multi-­‐Artform  Bingo  Blowout  Party  which   was,  as  it  suggests,  a  night  of  multi-­‐disciplinary  work  presented  roughly  in  the  context  of  lots  of   drinking  and  dancing.  I  sometimes  enjoyed  the  audience’s  journey  around  the  building  during  these   nights  as  much  as  the  work;  there  was  a  sense  of  adventure  and  investment  from  audiences  that   excited  me;  an  active,  creative  audience  making  choices  about  how  they  wanted  to  experience  the   work.  I  had  been  strongly  influenced  by  mixed  by  nights  like  those  run  by  OMSK  in  the  mid  1990’s  in   333  Old  Street  where  work  was  presented  all  over  the  club.      There  were  also  lots  of  fragmented  but  important  moments  of  experiencing  the  building  and   organisation  during  the  first  two  years  of  my  Artistic  Directorship:  walking  in  to  the  Grand  Hall  when   events  were  on,  marvelling  at  the  scale  and  sheer  fun  of  the  space  and  wondering  why  we  didn’t  use   the  space  more  flexibly;  seeing  youth  theatre  shows  one  after  the  other  in  the  same  space  (over  a   period  of  weeks)  and  wondering  why  we  didn’t  programme  them  all  on  the  same  night  all  over  the   building;  going  on  late  night  walks  around  the  building  and  thinking  it  was  my  playground  to  work  in   with  the  artists  I  chose  and  the  sheer  excitement  of  that  feeling;  programming  and  experiencing  The   Yellow  Wallpaper  by  Punchdrunk  in  the  BAC  attic  in  OctoberFest  2005  and  experiencing  the  sheer   theatricality  of  the  building;  thinking  about  ways  to  earn  more  money  through  the  way  we  used   space;  getting  ever  shorter  leases  from  Wandsworth  Borough  Council  and  being  reminded  of  Tom   Morris’  question  about  considering  BAC  independently  of  the  Town  Hall,  and  feeling  more  and  more   passionately  that  BAC’s  success  was,  in  part,  because  of  the  Town  Hall  rather  than  despite  the  Town   Hall;  going  through  the  organisation’s  25  year  archive  of  Board  papers  and  programmes  on  a  three   week  holiday  in  Spain  in  June  2006  and  realising  that  BAC’s  artists  had  definitely  drawn  inspiration   from  a  space  that  was  not  a  theatre;  and  that  our  task  was  to  turn  the  building  back  in  to  the  found   space  it  really  was  and  stop  trying  to  tame  it  in  to  being  a  crap  theatre.     8.    At  what  point  did  that  idea  solidify  into  working  with  an  architect?       After  a  Board  meeting  in  Spring  2006  in  which  I’d  talked  about  the  building  and  the  idea  of  opening   some  of  the  spaces  for  artist  use,  Nick  Starr,  BAC’s  Chair  and  Executive  Director  of  the  National   Theatre,  stayed  on  after  the  meeting  and  looked  over  some  drawings  of  the  space  with  the  senior   management  team.  Nick  suggested  meeting  Steve  Tompkins  from  Haworth  Tompkins.  I  hadn’t   thought  of  meeting  an  architect  before  then.  Nick  is  passionate  about  buildings.  He  did  the  two   temporary  Almeida  Theatres,  the  National  Theatre  Studios,  he  understood  the  process  and  must  have   instinctively  known  that  there  was  a  good  connection  to  be  made  with  Steve:  a  personality  match  as   much  as  a  good  fit  of  idea  and  ambition.  Nick  also  helped  me  understand  the  first  formal  piece  of   work  with  Steve  (which  turned  out  to  be  Fuzzy  Logic)  from  a  financial  point  of  view.  Architect  fees  are   potentially  eye  watering  in  comparison  to  the  analogous  commissioning  fees  for  other  artists  in  an  

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arts  centre’s  programme  but  Nick,  as  Chair,  was  able  to  help  me  think  about  BAC’s  finances   differently;  considering  revenue  and  capital  income  streams  as  one  and  to  think  flexibly  about  risk   and  reserves;  a  lesson  that  still  benefits  BAC  three  years  later.  The  idea  of  working  with  an  architect   was  Nick  Starr’s;  I  think  I  was  happy  to  just  imagine  we’d  do  it  ourselves.     9.    What  made  you  think  Steve  T.  was  the  right  architect?       When  I  met  Steve  I  thought  he  was  a  brilliant  mix  of  an  artist  and  a  producer:  someone  with  visionary   ideas  who  could  also  articulate  how  they  might  happen….even  if  he  wasn’t  really  sure,  I  believed  he   could  make  them  happen.  It  reminded  me  of  meeting  David  Woods  and  Jon  Haynes,  Emma  Rice,  Felix   Barret,  Toby  Jones…people  whose  energy  and  ideas  you  quickly  come  to  love.  At  one  point  during  our   first  meeting  on  a  hot  summer’s  day  in  2006  in  BAC’s  courtyard,  I  was  describing  the  plans  with   Punchdrunk,  opening  the  building  up,  the  idea  of  an  arts  centre  living  inside  the  world  of  a  show,  the   creative  and  financial  risks  involved.  At  one  point  of  the  conversation  I  became  anxious  that  I  might   sound  too  certain,  too  clear  as  to  the  direction  I  was  following,  too  much  like  an  expert,  and  I  said,   honestly,  that  I  was  making  it  up  as  I  went  along.  Steve  said:  “ah,  a  man  after  my  own  heart”  and  that   felt  very  good.  He  was  someone  I  didn’t  have  to  pretend  with;  it’s  a  ridiculously  rare  thing  for  brilliant   people  like  Steve  to  show  vulnerability,  to  show  that  they’re  out  on  a  limb,  that  they’re  sometimes   not  sure  what  the  next  move  is;  I  don’t  want  to  work  with  anyone  that  knows  exactly  what  they’re   doing  all  the  time,  what  would  be  the  point  of  collaborating  with  someone  where  there  was  no  risk   involved?  You’d  know  the  outcome  before  you  started.     10.    Can  you  pinpoint  any  key  moments  in  your  conversation  with  Steve  /  Felix  around  MORD  that  led   to  the  idea  of  Playgrounding?       I  think  it  was  simply  the  two  parallel  conversations,  in  the  context  of  two  years  of  thinking  about  the   building  and  programming,  which  made  sense  of  playgrounding  as  an  idea.  The  conversation  with   Felix  was  about  how  an  arts  centre  could  live  inside  the  world  of  a  show.  The  conversation  with  Steve   was  about  how  the  energy  and  character  of  the  building  and  how  to  turn  up  the  voltage  to  the  benefit   of  artists,  audiences  and  staff.  Through  the  building  and  programming  thinking  I  had  been  doing  for   the  last  two  years  I’d  come  to  a  realisation  that  the  building  was  so  important  for  artists  because  it   wasn’t  a  theatre  but  a  found  space  which  acted  as  a  provocation  for  new  theatre  and  new  ways  of   working.  It  was  the  combination  of  these  elements  that  led  quite  naturally  to  the  idea  of  the  building   as  a  playground  for  artists  and  audiences.     When  the  conversations  came  together  for  the  first  time  there  was  also  a  key  moment  that  I’ve   described  to  many  people  since;  when  trying  to  describe  playgrounding.  Steve,  Felix  and  I  were   meeting  together  as  a  three  for  the  first  time.  Walking  around  the  building,  talking  about  plans  for   The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  by  Punchdrunk  and  BAC.  Felix  was  talking  about  fire  and  how  it  was  an   important  icon  in  some  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe’s  work.  Steve  said  ‘well  you  know  there’s  fifteen  or  so   fireplaces  in  the  building,  why  don’t  we  open  one  of  them  up  and  light  stories  in  the  show  by   firelight.’  Felix’s  excitement  for  the  potential  magic  of  this  in  the  show  was  matched  by  my   excitement  of  the  legacy  of  that  fireplace  in  the  building.  I  think  it  was  a  moment  when  theory  fell   easily  in  to  practice  and  I  realised  the  idea  had  legs.     11.    Can  you  define  Playgrounding?       There  is  a  document  I  have  assembled  called  “BAC  Capital  Development”  that  has  a  good  definition  of   the  playgrounding  process  we’re  using.  Something  that  document  does  not  say  is  where  the  use  of  

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the  word  playground  came  from.  There  is  a  Board  paper  that  was  prepared  that  described  the  idea  in   which  I  called  it  the  creation  of  a  “theatrical  village”.  The  idea  of  playground  came  from  children  using   a  space  to  create  a  thousand  different  worlds.  In  any  playground  there  are  structured  areas  for  play   but  there  is  also  space  to  just  run  about  and  corners  to  hang  out  in.  Exciting  playgrounds  are  spaces   are  both  equipped  and  free  wheeling  for  the  imagination.  The  idea  of  playgrounding  is  simply  about   artists,  staff  and  audiences  doing  what  we  all  used  to  do  in  our  playgrounds,  creating  flexible  worlds   in  which  anything  could  happen.  And  often  the  very  best  and  most  exciting  games  were  not  the  ones   that  happened  on  the  apparatus  provided  for  us  by  clever  adults,  designed  for  our  benefit,  but  were   the  parts  of  the  playground  where  we  could  create  our  own  worlds.     12.  What  are  the  challenges  you  face  in  using  Playgrounding  as  a  process  and  keeping  it  buoyant?            1.  How  do  you  create  an  authorial  arc  over  the  project  over  five  or  more  years  that  involves  many   different  artists?  In  many  ways  it  is  the  same  challenge  that  a  Director  has  to  create  a  robust   dramaturgical  structure  through  a  piece  in  which  dozens  of  artists  collaborate.  How  do  we  work  with   artists  to  engage  them  in  the  playgrounding  process  across  the  entire  programme  but  create  enough   consistency  of  vision  to  ensure        2.  Playgrounding  offers  less  challenges  to  how  you  might  design  a  building  –  it  is  effectively  an   extended  research  and  development  process  for  design  –  but  offers  more  profound  challenges  to  the   ways  of  delivering  a  building  project  because  we  are  undertaking  ‘improvisatory’  building  projects   through  the  project’s  duration.  This  is  a  challenge  to  RIBA  Plan  of  Works;  funding  guidelines  with  their   mandatory  procurement  procedures;  English  Heritage  listing  processes;  legal  liability  for  carrying  out   building  works.  How  does  the  project  management  system  for  delivering  building  projects  enhance   and  develop  (rather  than  crush)  the  creative  and  playful  aspirations  of  the  project?        3.  How  do  you  truly  integrate  the  process  (the  work  of  the  space  team  at  BAC)  with  the  rest  of  the   organisation’s  activities?  This  is  a  mixture  of  a  creative  and  project  management  challenge:  providing   clear  leadership  and  enabling  a  wide  and  open  engagement  in  the  project  process.  How  do  the   organisation’s  other  activity  programmes  –  theatre,  participate,  events  –  all  become  meaningfully   involved  in  the  process  of  opening  up  and  developing  the  building?     13.    In  what  way  does  Playgrounding  challenge  the  established  RIBA  A  to  M  process?       The  RIBA  process  is  about  clearly  delineated  project  stages  with  clear  sign  off  from  one  project   management  group  to  another.  It  is  partly  designed  to  protect  one  party  from  another  and  ensure   liability  is  clearly  carried.  I  can’t  comment  on  how  well  it  does  or  doesn’t  operate  in  the  day  to  day   construction  industry,  though  general  knowledge  tells  us  that  plenty  of  people  in  that  industry  who   must  be  using  the  RIBA  process  are  busy  suing  each  other.  My  challenge  to  the  A-­‐M  RIBA  process  in   the  context  in  which  I  am  working  at  BAC  is  that  demarcation  of  territory  and  clarification  of  liability   can  discourage  collaboration  and  actively  encourage  the  passivity  of  the  “client”.  A-­‐M  actively   promotes  the  role  of  the  “expert”  in  process  and  the  deferment  of  liability  to  that  “expertise”.  I  think   the  danger  is  that  collective  responsibility  is  diminished.  I  would  argue  that  pure  (often  iconic)   singular  visions  can  lead  to  extraordinary  pieces  of  art,  to  stunning  buildings,  that  are  often  also  quite   dysfunctional.  And  that  more  collaborative  processes  that  are  “tuned  in”  to  the  desires  of  the  people   that  will  use  the  building  lead  to  buildings  that  can  also  be  great  pieces  of  art  but  that  also  function.  A   trip  to  Sao  Paulo  to  see  the  work  on  Niemeyer  versus  Lina  Bo  Bardi  is  testament  to  this.     Playgrounding’s  challenge  to  the  RIBA  process  is  the  breaking  down  of  the  “architect”  /  “client”   relationship.  The  space  team  at  BAC  includes  everyone  engaged  in  the  project  and  is  beginning  to   explore  how  liabilities  can  be  shared  between  team  members  conscious  of  the  high  stakes  of  their  

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collaboration.  See  the  document  “Meeting  -­‐  Steve  Tompkins  &  David  Jubb.  Swaines  Lane  -­‐  6th  July   2009”  that  are  my  notes  from  a  meeting  with  Steve  recently.       14.    Describe  a  space  transformation  that  has  been  successful  because  of  the  playgrounding  process.       See  the  Capital  Development  document  for  description  of  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  and  how  this   project  successfully  opened  up  the  Town  Hall  and  profoundly  changed  the  way  we  think  about  the   building.     Kneehigh  Theatre’s  Don  John  was  a  catalyst  for  change  in  BAC’s  Grand  Hall.  One  of  the  challenges  of   the  Grand  Hall  is  that  the  largest  access  point  is  a  set  of  double  doors  leading  in  to  the  space.  So   unless,  like  the  1900  Hope-­‐Jones  organ,  set  pieces  and  equipment  can  be  assembled  in  the  space,   piece  by  piece,  the  potential  for  live  event  is  massively  reduced  by  what  you  can  simply  fit  through   the  Hall  doors.  Putting  a  large  scale  touring  production  in  to  the  space  was  a  great  way  of  testing  a   new  way  of  working.  And  Kneehigh,  who  have  created  work  on  cliff-­‐tops,  down  tin  mines,  in   traditional  theatres  and  in  village  halls,  were  a  great  partner  with  whom  to  carry  out  that  experiment.   They  are  masters  at  presenting  their  work  in  different  contexts  and  using  space  to  their  advantage.     Director  Emma  Rice,  Designer  Vicky  Mortimer,  Architect  worked  Steve  Tompkins  worked  with  David   Micklem  and  I  to  create  a  470  seat  temporary  auditorium  in  the  space  that  would  both  accommodate   Don  John  and  open  up  the  space  for  more  flexible  use.  The  legacy  of  the  experiment  is  better  access   facilities  off  street  and  in  to  the  building,  also  access  in  to  the  actual  space,  improved  technical   infrastructure  in  the  Hall  enabling  us  to  run  a  much  wider  range  of  events  in  the  space,  a  partial   restoration  of  the  Hope-­‐Jones  organ,  ideas  for  developing  the  space  further.  The  project  was  a  second   moment  of  playgrounding  in  the  Hall  after  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  had  encouraged  us  to  see  the   space  as  both  a  performance  space  and  a  connected  part  of  the  whole  building.  Red  Death  led  us  to   create  a  meeting  in  the  building  every  week  called  the  One  Building  Meeting  where  we  would  talk   about  operational  provision  across  the  whole  footprint  of  the  Town  Hall  because  ever  since  the  arts   centre  moved  in  to  the  space  there  had  been  a  spiritual  and  operational  divide  between  the  two   halves  of  the  building.  Don  John  as  a  second  moment  of  improvisation  or  playgrounding  led  us  to  see   even  more  new  opportunities  in  the  space.     It  is  an  interesting  example  of  playgrounding  because  prior  to  Don  John  we  had  commissioned   Haworth  Tompkins  to  complete  a  “stage  D”  RIBA  report  on  the  Grand  Hall  to  help  us  raise  funds  for   works  to  the  space  and  because  it  felt  like  ‘the  right  thing  to  do’.  The  report  proposed  a  wide  ranging   scope  of  works.  For  Don  John  we  only  completed  about  £150,000  worth  of  work  to  just  enable  the   show:  pulling  back  from  much  of  the  proposed  scope  which  involved  some  significant  infrastructure   moves.  Two  weeks  ago  I  met  Steve  Tompkins  to  discuss  the  next  stage  of  the  Grand  Hall  project.   Steve’s  inspiration  was  to  think  about  the  Hall  as  a  space  in  which  to  mark  out  a  sustainable  approach   to  the  general  capital  project  at  BAC.  For  example,  he  talked  about  putting  wood  burners  in  to  the   Hall  and  running  projects  with  local  people  to  source  sustainable  sources  of  skipped  wood.  So  a  year   on  from  Stage  D  on  the  Grand  Hall  and  the  debate  around  sustainability  had  become  stronger  across   the  arts,  in  architecture  and  in  global  politics.  BAC  had  also  hosted  the  national  Transition  Towns   conference  in  the  Grand  Hall  in  May  2009  and  Steve  had  had  long  conversations  with  Lucy  Neal  (in   the  Transition  Town  movement)  about  the  idea  of  a  Battersea  Transition  Town.  The  point  being  that   the  world  and  BAC  had  changed  over  that  year.  And  that  the  playgrounding  process  –  which  is   essentially  an  ongoing  way  of  looking  at  building  development  –  rather  than  a  “do  it  and  it’s  done”   approach  –  had  enabled  these  new  ideas  around  creating  a  sustainable  building  to  evolve  over  time   and  building  use.  If  during  the  year  leading  up  to  that  conversation  with  Steve,  the  stage  D  report  had  

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moved  through  stages  E  to  K,  based  on  the  design  in  stage  D,  it  would  have  been  too  late  for  the  Hall   to  adopt  the  wood  burner  approach  –  at  least  not  without  a  great  deal  of  waste  and  ripping  out  of   previous  ideas.  Playgrounding  is  an  approach  that  keeps  things  flexible  and  enables  buildings  to   evolve  according  to  current  thinking  rather  than  lock  them  down  in  to  an  ideal  in  a  fixed  moment  of   time.     15.    Have  there  been  any  mistakes  (assuming  we  know  that  making  mistakes  is  part  of  the  process)?     We  have  sometimes  not  put  artists  in  the  driving  seat  of  changes.  And  we’ve  developed  spaces  to  be   more  “fit  for  purpose”.  So  for  example,  for  the  sake  of  improved  income  from  the  Events  strand  we   have  recently  developed  the  first  floor  spaces  in  the  front  half  of  the  building.  We  have  cleaned  them   up,  polished  the  floorboards,  put  21st  century  looking  radiators  on  the  walls,  painted  the  walls  single   respectable  colours.  In  searching  for  an  orthodox  feel  for  a  space  that  might  be  attractive  to  our   generic  idea  of  an  “events  client”  we  have  bleached  out  some  of  what  is  interesting  about  the  space:   the  history;  the  stories;  the  memories.      The  central  problem  with  the  First  Floor  project  is  that  we  didn’t  put  an  artist  in  charge.  Artists  tend   to  be  interested  in  story,  in  what’s  authentic  and  therefore  in  my  experience  they  have  always   celebrated  what  is  already  there.  That’s  not  to  say  that  they  haven’t  wanted  to  find  new  stories,  or  to   tell  their  own  stories  in  the  context  of  the  Town  Hall  space  but  my  favourite  artists  are  ones  that  are   not  scared  of  what’s  already  present,  of  what  the  space  used  to  be,  of  the  hybrid  potential  of  their   own  work  and  the  space  as  it  stands.  On  the  First  Floor  project  we  were  neither  employing  artists  or   using  the  architect  as  artist  (Steve  wasn’t  involved  in  the  project)  and  it  led  to  the  voltage  (as  Steve   calls  it)  of  the  space  being  turned  down.  Mistake.     16.    Describe  the  courtyard  /  foyer  theatre  and  where  that  idea  came  from  (this  is  a  leading  the   witness  question  to  talk  about  the  links  between  playgrounding  and  Lina  BB’s  work  at  Teatro  Oficina)       It  comes  from  Teatro  Oficina  in  Sao  Paolo.  This  is  a  space  that  I  saw  in  2007  and  which  there  is  a   description  of  in  the  Capital  Development  document.     The  foyer  is  one  of  the  most  problematic  spaces  at  BAC  because  it  is  essentially  used  as  a  big  corridor.   It  always  feels  transitional  and  empty.  As  it  is  also  the  space  that  welcomes  you  to  the  building,  the   first  space  you  walk  in  to:  that’s  not  a  great  way  to  make  people  feel  at  home.  Teatro  Oficina  was  in   some  ways,  also  a  corridor,  in  that  it  was  imagined  as  a  foyer  space  leading  to  a  larger  theatre  space:   a  project  that  was  never  built.  But  Lina  Bo  Bardi  and  Ze  Celso  (spelling)  turned  it  in  to  an  incredibly   dynamic  performance  space  that  is  inspiration  for  the  kind  of  flexible  theatre  auditorium  that  is   relatively  unexplored  in  the  UK.  It  is  a  heretical  theatre  space  that  says  there  is  no  orthodox  way  of   making  theatre.  Whilst  Ze  Celso  (spelling)  uses  the  space  in  quite  a  specific  way  for  his  own  practice,  it   also  has  the  potential  to  be  used  in  a  hundred  different  ways  in  terms  of  the  relationship  between   audience  and  artist.  Try  saying  that  about  an  orthodox  space  like  the  Olivier  theatre.  

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List  of  Illustrations       Fig.  1         Fig.  2       Fig.  3       Fig.  4     Fig.  5       Fig.  6       Fig.  7       Fig.  8       Fig.  9       Fig.  10       Fig.  11       Fig.12         Fig.  13       Fig.  14       Fig.  15      

Battersea  Town  Hall,  postcard  c.  1894   Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library,  MISC.  File  725.13  BATT   Red  brick  and  Monks  Park  Bath  stone  shell   Source:  Allegra  Galvin  2009   Battersea  Town  Hall,  postcard  c.  1894   Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library,  MISC.  File  725.13  BATT   Plan  of  ground  floor  and  east  elevation,  Battersea  Arts  Centre   th Source:  The  Builder,  19  December  1891   East  corridor  ending  in  a  flight  of  stairs   Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive  (photos  taken  during  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death)   Mosaic  floor  in  Octagonal  Hall,  outside  the  Grand  Hall   Source:  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  2008   Dome  of  Octagonal  Hall   Source:  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  2008   Mosaic  floor  in  entrance  foyer   Source:  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects,  2008   Entrance  foyer  of  Battersea  Arts  Centre   Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive   Plan  of  ground  floor  changes  made  to  the  middle  of  the  building,  1899     Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library   Plan  of  first  floor  changes  made  to  the  middle  of  the  building,  1899   Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library   Plan  of  first  floor  changes  made  to  the  middle  of  the  building,  1925   Source:     Plan  of  first  floor  changes  made  to  the  middle  of  the  building,1934   Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library   Plan  of  new  staircase  and  landing  to  the  first  floor,  1899   Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library   Social  Entertainment  Brochure  for  1959-­‐60   Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library,  MISC.  File  725.13  BATT  

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Fig.  16   Plan  for  redevelopment  of  Battersea  Arts  Centre  into  leisure  centre  with  library  and   swimming  pool     Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library     Fig.17   Postcard  showing  Battersea  Arts  Centre  and  the  Shakespeare  Theatre  side-­‐by-­‐side  on   Lavender  Hill  (c.1900)     Source:  Theatres  Trust  archive     Fig.  18   Newspaper  clipping  of  raked  seating  going  into  the  council  chamber,  c.1981     Source:  Battersea  Local  History  Library,  MISC.  File  725.13  BATT     Fig.  19   Works  taking  place  to  convert  the  council  chamber  into  the  ‘main  house’,  a  black  box  space,   c.  1981     Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive     Fig.  20   Newly-­‐installed  raked  seating  in  the  main  house,  c.  1981     Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive     Fig.  21   Plan  for  Levitt  Bernstein  Central  Studio,  c.1996     Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive     Fig.  22   Sketch  of  the  plans  for  increased  circulation  and  ‘shockingly  unexpected  garden’     th   Source:  Tom  Morris,  drawn  during  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009     Fig.23     Sketch  showing  the  proposed  height  of  the  central  studio  in  comparison  to  the  original   building   th   Source:  Tom  Morris,  drawn  during  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009     Fig.  24   Sketch  by  Bethan  Davies  of  Levitt  Bernstein  Architects,  showing  the  Central  Studio  and  glass-­‐ roofed  foyer  area   th   Source:  Given  to  the  author  by  Axel  Burrough,  8  June  2009     Fig.25   Elevation  of  central  studio  showing  proposed  seating  layout,  Theatre  Projects,  c.1996     Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive       Fig.  26   Plan  showing  the  courtyard  converted  into  a  glass-­‐roofed  café  area,  Levitt  Bernstein   Architects,  c.1996     Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive     Fig.  27   Sketch  of  the  scratch  ladder  of  development  showing  progression  from  ‘scratch  night’,  to   ‘scratch  performance  /  £3.50  tickets’  to  ‘showcase  /  £8.00  tickets’  to  ‘3  week  [run]  /  £10   tickets’.    The  sketch  also  shows  how  the  scratch  nights  were  programmed  into  each  season   across  the  year.   th   Source:  Tom  Morris,  drawn  during  an  interview  with  the  author,  4  June  2009     Fig.  28   Octoberfest  season  brochure,  front  cover  and  inside  front  cover,  2005     Source:  Batterea  Arts  Centre  archive     Fig.  29   Octoberfest  season  brochure,  parties  page,  2005  

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  Source:  Batterea  Arts  Centre  archive     Fig.  30   The  House  of  Usher,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  31   The  Palais  Royale  dressing  room,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive         Fig.  32   Punchdrunk  performer  as  Madeline  Usher,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September   2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  33   Punchdrunk  performer,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  34   Finale  in  the  Grand  Hall,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  35   Punchdrunk  performer  as  Roderick  Usher,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September   2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  36   Set  Design  for  the  ground  floor  front  of  the  building,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,   September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  37   The  Grand  Hall  as  Prince  Prospero’s  palace,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September   2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  38   The  fireplace  room  with  Pluto  the  cat,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  39   New  structure  for  scratch  development     Source:  David  Jubb  /  Battersea  Arts  Centre       Fig.  40   Punchdrunk  performer  in  The  Black  Cat,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  41   The  attic  stairs  painted  for  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007     Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive     Fig.  42   New  producing  office  under  construction  in  old  social  services  kitchen,  summer  2007     Source:  Haworth  Tompkins  Architects     Fig.  43   Set  design  for  ‘the  music  room’,  showing  hidden  doorway  leading  into  the  artistic  director’s   office,  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  September  2007  

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    Fig.  44       Fig.  45       Fig.  46       Fig.  47       Fig.  48    

Source:  Stephen  Dobbie  /  Punchdrunk  archive   Front  entrance  of  Teatro  Oficina,  Sao  Paulo,  November  2008   Source:  Allegra  Galvin   Side  view  of  Teatro  Oficina,  Sao  Paulo,  November  2008   Source:  Allegra  Galvin   Sao  Paulo  Museum  of  Modern  Art  (MASP),  designed  by  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  1957-­‐1968   rd Source:  Bo  Bardi,  Lina,  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Instituto  Lina  Bo  e  P.M.  Bardi,  Sao  Paulo  2008  (3  Ed.),   p.111   SESC  Pompéia,  Sao  Paulo,  designed  by  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  1977   Source:  Allegra  Galvin   In  the  Jungle  of  the  Cities,  design  by  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  direction  by  Ze  Celso,  Teatro  Oficina,  1969   rd Source:  Bo  Bardi,  Lina,  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Instituto  Lina  Bo  e  P.M.  Bardi,  Sao  Paulo  2008  (3  Ed.),   p.187  

  Fig.  49   Sketch  proposal  for  the  interior  of  Teatro  Oficina  by  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  showing  the  marking   ‘Walkway,  not  advised  by  the  architect’  circled  in  red.   rd   Source:  Bo  Bardi,  Lina,  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  Instituto  Lina  Bo  e  P.M.  Bardi,  Sao  Paulo  2008  (3  Ed.),   p.  259     Fig.  50   Teatro  Oficina  on  tour,  a  reconstruction  of  the  scaffolding  theatre     Source:  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br     Fig.  51   Teatro  Oficina  on  tour,  a  reconstruction  of  the  scaffolding  theatre  being  inspected  by  Ze   Celso     Source:  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br     Fig.  52   The  ‘terreiro’  or  yard  outside  the  auditorium  at  SESC  Pompéia,  2008     Source:  Allegra  Galvin     Fig.  53   The  main  promenade  in  Teatro  Oficina  4  during  the  inaugural  production  of  Hamlet,  1993     Source:  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br     Fig.  54   Auditorium  of  SESC  Pompéia,  Sao  Paulo,  designed  by  Lina  Bo  Bardi,  1977     Source:  Allegra  Galvin     Fig.  55   Scaffolding  structure  of  Teatro  Oficina,  photo  taken  from  dressing  rooms,  2008     Source:  Allegra  Galvin     Fig.  56   The  floor  to  ceiling  window  of  Teatro  Oficina,  2008     Source:  Allegra  Galvin     Fig.  57   Performance  at  Teatro  Oficina     Source:  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br    

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Fig.  58       Fig.  59       Fig.  60  

Performance  at  Teatro  Oficina   Source:  http://teatroficina.uol.com.br   Walls  of  the  foyer  gallery  with  the  frieze  painted  for  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death,  BAC,  2008   Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive   Wall  of  the  fireplace  room  after  The  Masque  of  the  Red  Death  closed  with  pictures  from  the   show  still  in  place,  BAC,  2008   Source:  Battersea  Arts  Centre  archive  

      Note:  All  plans  of  Battersea  Arts  Centre  from  1899  –  1925  were  found  in  a  canvas  folder  in  Battersea   Local  History  Library.    These  are  not  stored  with  the  plans  from  1954  –  1970.            

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