I finally got around to visiting the Paddington Reservoir – a new and much anticipated public space on Oxford St. opposite Paddington Town Hall and Juniper Hall. The site is interesting; first a water reservoir, then an auto garage and, since the collapse of part of the roof in 1990, an urban ruin. In its previous incarnation as a boarded up relic of a time in Paddington’s history that was only recently, but irrevocably lost, it evoked a kind of endearing pathos. Like the poor kid at a rich school, it stood, at the same time pathetic and stoic in the corner of the playground, seemingly immune to the taunts of the nouveau riche around it while it held the mystery and promise of its decay behind the graffiti covered fences and violent sounding ‘Trespassers will be Prosecuted’ signs. That these signs only served as a weak challenge to Paddington’s youths, and the barriers after decades of children scaling their heights were full off holes, only served to cement its right to exist as a final bastion of danger and adventure in a suburb full of safety locks, Playstation 2’s and ever vigilant nannies. To me it also rather nostalgically stood as a ghost reminding the upper middle class types who stalk Oxford Street these days of the all but erased working class roots of their suburb.
But, dear readers, we are progressive types who do not dwell like cowards in the safety of the past. Decaying infrastructure, to people like me, holds such promise and tempting opportunity that I can scarcely bear to face or condone it’s re-use for fear of not living up to the challenge of the bones. There is a certain futility in this though, and determined to be brave, I set out to visit this icon of my youth.
The architects responsible, Tonkin Zulaikha Greer, are well known for their work in this type of re-jigging of infrastructural and public buildings, having previously undertaken the CarriageWorks project at Eveleigh, and projects at Port Arthur and Customs House in the CBD. The first sight you get of the new reserve is from an elevated roof and sunshade device that sits above the site, mimicking the brick arches of the reservoir in grey steel. This serves as an effective signpost and sunshade, despite being a touch unsubtle in its referencing of the original structures brickwork. Despite my initial need to criticise, it was immediately inviting, the promise of the walkways and stairwells into the reservoir were too tempting to bear much surveillance of its street presence. Once inside, the beauty of the structure, finally unveiled to those beyond clambering over walls, is undeniable. The original building seems handsomely preserved, and enough of it remains to provide a tactile and solid base from which the new work is pleasantly subservient. The juxtaposition of ancient bricks and box fresh raw concrete in particular is great, and invites all sorts of musings about why exactly that is the case. The workmanship reveals in a modest way the great skill that must have been exercised in the detailing and on site craftsmanship. Less subtle is the steelwork that seemed a little over engineered to my eye, but that could have been the enormous lift that it forms. The lift is one of the few bits of the re-design that was pretty lame in my view. The Architect seemed to leave the paired back, materially restrained approach of elsewhere and succumbed to the complexity of the structure by cladding it in panels of what appeared to be steel, with some rubbish cut into it. I’m sure they would have a story about how it was related to footprints on the site or something equally tangential, but it seemed a distraction to me, the premature ejaculation ruining an otherwise lovely evening. Of sorts.
These are pretty amazing spaces, and TZG have cast their expert hand over it, doing a far better job than might have been expected given the weight of expectation, and the lethargy of our governing bodies. As I wandered around though, peering over reassuringly high balustrades and through locked doors, I could help feel that the excitement had somewhat left; that the redevelopment had somehow put a child proof lock on Paddington’s last risk filled cupboard. By the time I was leaving the sun was almost down, and I decided to walk down to the lower garden one final time. To the east of this space is a locked area of reservoir, and as I walked through I heard skateboards rattling out through the bars, as some kids who somehow squeezed in used the curved edges of the reservoir to perform their pernicious little tricks. As I hurried out, muttering something about the precursors to a life of crime, I decided that I was well satisfied. The ghost of the old decrepit artefact I remembered still lurks deep in the chambers, reprieved for another generation of rotten little monsters.
The Virtuous Pagan
