Save our concrete spaces

Yesterday in the Observer Rowan Moore launched a diatribe against proposals for London's South Bank, specifically the Hayward Gallery and Queen Elizabeth Hall. They will, he says, involve 'thrusting commercial space into almost every spare void'. Nature, we are told, abhors a vacuum and so, it seems, does commerce.
Moore, who does have form as a complainer, is worried that the South Bank will be turned into another airport terminal or shopping centre, albeit with some fresh air. His worries have some justification. There was a lot of fuss when shopping started creeping into railway stations that it would somehow spoil the pure experience of travel. But they seem an ideal venue for shops, which are either convenient or help to kill time, or both. Similarly at airports - what do you do if you don't shop or eat? Hunch over your laptop?
But the South Bank is very different. It already has some shops and eating places, as Moore points out. The British Film Institute, after many false steps, has transformed itself into a permanently buzzy venue. Gabriel's Wharf nearby has maintained an alternative feel to its retail, probably because its temporary status - stretching out wonderfully in the recession - has discouraged the chains. But the outlets under the Festival Hall are, as Moore points out, all chains, and we could expect more of the same. They are often reliable, but they don't give an individual character - and the South Bank is a concrete oasis with some great cultural buildings.
The problem may be that we just don't appreciate it as open space. When we think of open space and landscape we think of parks and planting. Which are admirable, and to be encouraged. But the South Bank is a very different kind of landscape - a concrete landscape on several levels, with places to gather, for temporary events, and a great balcony onto the river. It is worth preserving.

No excuse for getting up late

You won't have to worry if your watch stops or your phone battery runs out, if you are staying in this special hotel room in Ghent, Belgium. Called the Hotel Gent, it is a project by Japanese artist Tazu Rous, who has constructed a temporary room around the clock tower of the historic station. Presumably the clock doesn't strike, or visitors would have to be issued with ear plugs.
These temporary hotel rooms are all the rage. David Kohn's 'Room for London' in the form of a ship is perched on top of the Hayward Gallery for the whole of this year.

Both would be fun to stay in, but I think that Kohn's is superior, as it enhances the building on which it stands. Ghent's clock tower appears to be wrapped in temporary scaffolding. And is there nobody in the town who actually likes to consult the station clock? Rous may be responsible for a few missed trains.

David Shrigley the city planner

I saw the David Shrigley exhibition at London's Hayward Gallery yesterday. Shrigley is best know for his drawings - whimsical and charming and yet with a bite. But there is just more than just these at the exhibition - strange objects and animations, and also an untitled installation that fills half a room. Made of some black stuff, it consists of elements that look nothing like people, but have a definite human quality, and other elements - long tubes, spheres and a kind of exploded spidery mass - that look nothing like most buildings but feel like buildings.

The impression is that definitely that you are looking at a city, where some areas are calm and harmonious, others are bustling and others rather menacing. It is a worthwhile reminder that our cities depend not so much on the details of architecture as on the disposition of buildings, on the spaces between them and on the people who occupy those spaces and the ways in which they behave. Maybe some urban designer should offer a role to Shrigley?

If you do make it to the exhibition, it is worth finding time for the Jeremy Deller display that is downstairs. Also fascinating in a different way.