The almost quarter-century-long, kilometer-long, 67-hectare project to redevelop King's Cross in London is a monument of its time. It is the urban embodiment of the Blair era in which it was conceived, of the Third Way, of the idea that market forces, wisely guided by light-hearted government, can be a force for good. It will go down in the history books of cities (if such things are written in the future), representing its time in the same way that John Nash's Regent's Park represents the Regency and the Barbican the 1960s.
The masterplan's architects, Allies and Morrison and Demetri Porphyrios, have now submitted it to this year's RIBA awards programme, which could see it shortlisted for the Stirling Prize. This means that although there is still construction to be done, not least on Google's headquarters, they consider the essential concept of the masterplan to be complete. Cadence, a residential building by Alison Brooks Architects that forms a highlight on one side of the site, is also finished, with some problems. Somewhat shockingly, of the more than thirty practices posted on the site, Brooks is the first to have a woman's name in the title.
The development runs from the termini of St Pancras and King's Cross through a central open space called Granary Square, to a dense cluster of blocks and towers on the north side, formed around an elongated lawn with Brooks' building at the head, comprising most of the buildings includes. of the most recent additions. It has been phenomenally successful, both commercially and in achieving its stated goals. The developers, Argent (selected in 2001), wanted to create something like the kind of towns you would want to go on holiday in, with open spaces that one of the architects calls 'incredibly pleasant', and - thinking about children from the surrounding areas playing in the fountains, or office workers and art students lounging in the open spaces - it certainly did that. It has created approximately 1,700 homes in its 50 new and restored buildings, of which more than 40% are affordable, 30 bars and restaurants, 10 new public parks and squares, 4.25 m² of offices and a capacity for 30,000 office jobs.
Criticism of architecture therefore falls into the category of "wouldn't it be good if" instead of a fundamental rejection of its approach. Yet it evokes a difficult-to-define feeling that something is missing. For some this may be a lack of urban courage, but it is difficult and a bit absurd to incorporate this quality into new buildings. It is more that the development seems nervous of its own boldness and averse to conflict and tension. Opportunities for drama, for the push and pull of old and new or high and low, are largely minimized.
The character of the new work is determined by a combination of ambition and negotiation. This area was created by ruthless industrial companies that built railways, canals and warehouses with no regard for who lived there, or the impact on the environment, conservation or public spaces. It created blunt structures such as the multi-level food distribution center called the Granary and a celebrated series of gas holders that in their time towered over their surroundings. Today's capitalism produces structures many times larger, office buildings and apartment buildings that almost make the industrial heritage seem small, yet want to downplay its scale.
The ambiguous quality of development arises from the circumstances of its conception. The opportunity to build large arose largely from the consolidation of land for the construction of the Channel Tunnel rail link to St. Pancras station. At the same time, the site included an intricate series of listed buildings, and the local community included a number of vocal opponents. When permission was granted in March 2006, it was only after a planning meeting that lasted into the small hours, and with a narrow margin.
The architects did not propose a grand vision. Their plan had no design codes - the instrument by which consistency and uniformity are sometimes imposed on major developments. Instead, an irregular layout of streets and squares was created that was inspired by patterns already present on the site: the streets that crossed each other, the canal that meanders across them, the historic structures. Architects of individual buildings were given 'parameter plans' that provided a general indication of how they should relate to their neighbors and fulfill what Allies and Morrison called their 'duty to contribute to the bigger picture'.
There is a reluctance to let things be completely what they want to be, whether it is a throbbing big building, or an industrial relic, or a sidewalk cafe.
The master plan is based on 'picturesque' principles derived from the theories of Camillo Sitte, a 19th-century Austrian planner who, among other things, admired the way a church tower could come into view along a winding medieval street. The idea is to create a place where you are 'invited' from one space to another, where all parts are connected, and where buildings are less important than the spaces between them, and where the boundaries with surrounding areas fade away, so the development might feel like a continuation of the rest of the city rather than a place apart.
The result is a series of contrasting spaces that cover the site from one end to the other: a long boulevard running from the train stations to the center of the site; an inward-facing square on one side, then a more open square in front of the granary; then that long, elongated lawn framed by buildings of up to fifteen stories, running to the far end. Smaller courts and streets perforate the blocks to the side of this central progression.
It's all good and successful, and an understandable response to the failures of more assertive planning. Along the way there are buildings of varying degrees of beauty. But there is something strange that comes from feigning the power of the new buildings; of treating multi-storey residential blocks as if they were street houses in a beautiful old European city, which is not the case. It wouldn't hurt if one or two rooms had a more decisive shape, and if there was the occasional set piece of the kind that Nash would have placed on them.
The new buildings also show some uncertainty at ground level. There are shops and food stalls, and there are sidewalks, sometimes with outdoor seating, umbrellas, and planters, which are frequently used, but often there is nothing particularly enjoyable or intended about the relationship. The streets and open spaces in the newer, more northern blocks feel schematic. In general, there's a reluctance to let things be completely what they want to be, whether it's a throbbing big building, an industrial relic, or a sidewalk cafe. This may stem from an attitude of risk management - with many hazards in the realization of the project, the developers may not have wanted to take too much risk with the architecture.
Standing at the end of a long view, Alison Brooks' building offers some of the vibrancy that other buildings lack. It consists of a joined pair of red brick towers, one tall and central, the other off-center and sloping away from the prevailing right angles, with wobbling rhythms of windows and recessed balconies. Irregular series of arcs appear at the top and bottom, and in one or two places midway, which do not follow purely circular Bézier curves, which have an old-futurist, Saharan style. Star Wars feeling. They have a mannered resilience and clearly don't carry much weight. In the foyers and on some upper floors, arches rise into vaults, which with the twists in the plan and a small courtyard create intriguing layers of interior and exterior space. It's not that every building has to be that complicated, but it brings a welcome sense of adventure.
King's Cross has undergone a 180 degree turn from a place of filth and danger, notorious for drug use and sex work, to a place of cleanliness and safety. There are those who mourn the loss of the whimsical creativity and cinematic excitement that accompanied the old version, but beyond designating crime as a cultural heritage, it's hard to know how that character can be preserved. Places change, and the incredible kindness that Allies and Morrison speak of is no small feat. I only wish King's Cross had as much personality in its final transformation as it did in previous iterations.
