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At first it wasn't even clear that the Barbican would be an arts centre. When debates started about how to fill the 35-acre bomb site where it now stands, Sir Edward Howard, former Lord Mayor of London, thundered that Art makes less contribution to civilisation than the internal combustion engine. Yet the discussions were taking place in an idealistic postwar world. Small wonder, then, that the rhetorical tide started to flow in favour of a design devoted to something more utopian than commerce, or, indeed, internal combustion engines.
It's one of the many ironies in the Barbican's history that the architects, Chamberlin, Powell, and Bon, made one of the determining factors for their design the belief that within five years nobody would be using private cars any more in London. It wasn't their only miscalculation. Initial estimates said that the Barbican would cost somewhere between £6 and £8 million to build; the final bill came in at 156m. Strikes, legal cases, and the discovery of a plague pit all contributed to delays. When it finally opened in 1982, five years behind schedule, the City was far from convinced that it was cause for celebration.
At the age of 25, however, the Barbican is looking in better shape than it was, not only at its opening, but in its troubled mid-teens. A 35m refurbishment has brought improvements to its two theatres, two art galleries and three cinemas, as well as enhancements to the acoustics in the Hall, and - at last - a proper entrance on Silk Street. Outgoing managing director John Tusa must feel triumphant at the state in which he - with the help of artistic director Graham Sheffield - is leaving the Barbican; certainly happier than its first director, Henry Wrong, who after his departure, called it's the ugliest building in the world.
Wrong's is just one voice in a debate that will probably never be resolved. Will Londoners ever truly take this concrete monolith to heart? What's certain is that auspices look good for its being around for another 25 years. As for the internal combustion engine - well, that's another debate entirely.
ARCHITECTURE
My mother's father ran his printing business somewhere beneath the Barbican. Looking at old maps, I know where this must have been, yet the old parish of Cripplegate is almost invisible today. But not unimaginable. When, in December 1940, the Luftwaffe swept away the huddled houses, pubs, chop houses and businesses of the area, the parish church of St Giles survived as a reminder that there had indeed been life here.
Here, though, was a chance for the City of London to rebuild a part of the capital as never before. Instead of crooked prewar streets, a mighty concrete bastion would arise, its three 400ft towers and 18 other residential blocks housing 2,104 flats designed according to more than 140 different, interlocking plans. Where the population of Cripplegate had fallen to just 48 after World War II, now it would reach more than 4,000.
There is nothing like the Barbican Estate in scale, intelligence, ingenuity, quality, urban landscaping and sheer abstract artistry anywhere else in Britain, perhaps even the world. True, some of its inspiration came from Le Corbusier's concrete housing block, L'Unita? d'Habitation, in Marseilles, yet the ambition and complexity of the Barbican make it a thing apart. Covering 40 acres, it is a modern take on the notions of medieval walled cities, the castles of Crusaders and of the Welsh Marches; of ocean liners, of mountain ranges glimpsed through the interstices of city streets and, believe it or not, of Venice. The way residents can walk over bridges, besides water and away from cars were all directly inspired by a trip the architects made to La Serenissima. And because it promised to turn its broad, rough concrete back on noisy City thoroughfares, the Barbican really could offer those who lived inside it something of the serenity of Venice. I lived here for four years, and was astonished by the quiet.
What the Barbican is not is a run-of-the-mill housing estate. Nor did its architects, Peter Chamberlin, Geoffrey Powell and Swiss-born Christof Bon, design much else in the way of housing. The three young architects, all born around 1920, had each submitted a design independently to the Corporation of London for the Golden Lane estate in 1951. Powell won, but quickly teamed up with Chamberlin and Bon. The trio stuck together until retirement or death, a tight-knit, effective team.
The Barbican project was never thought of in terms of rushing up a couple of thousand flats. The City wanted open and green space as well. The only way this could be achieved was by building upwards, at great density. The housing had to be raised above the Metropolitan and Circle Lines and, to take advantage of this, the whole megastructure was raised up on concrete columns. This allowed for 2,000 underground car parking spaces, and the installation of three miles of service ducts, sewers, pipes, conduits and waste-disposal equipment. The Barbican Estate is truly a machine for living.
Chamberlin, Powell and Bon were able to give their concrete a superb, highly crafted, expensive finish. Although there are still those who think all concrete the same, this is a battleship among post-war housing estates built to Rolls-Royce standards. No detail escaped the architects' obsessive eyes. From girder-like handrails to sliding balcony doors, to kitchen fittings and the interiors of lifts, everything was custom-designed and custom-made. In certain ways, its architecture is as much baroque as it is Bauhaus.
A massive project that took decades to design and build has taken an equally long time to win recognition in Londoners' minds. Long dismissed as a concatenation of brutalist concrete by those who lived outside its heroic walls, the Barbican has always been admired by those it was built for. Today, the estate is both fashionable and listed: Chamberlin, Powell and Bon can rest in peace.
ART
While the Barbican Centre's architects travelled all over Europe to research their concert hall, one look at the art gallery tells you it didn't get the same courtesy, and that the visual arts were way down their list of priorities. In fact the gallery space was nothing more than an extension of the library and fell under the administrative remit of the City of London, neither part of the Barbican nor entirely separate. Nevertheless, John Hoole, the gallery's director for its first 20 years, relished his department's black sheep role and set out presenting exhibitions of underdog disciplines such as photography and design, as well as surveys of unfashionable British artists such as Gwen John (1985) and Stanley Spencer (1991). The show of 'American Images' in 1985 and of Cecil Beaton a year later cemented its reputation for photographic exhibitions, predating blockbusters such as Tate Modern's 'Cruel and Tender' by almost two decades.
A major refurbishment three years ago undoubtedly helped, but this could not disguise the disjointed upstairs-downstairs feel to the gallery (Cindy Sherman went as far as cancelling her show after a site visit in 1998). Perhaps even less suited to art appreciation is the Barbican's Curvespace, in effect a sound buffer for the concert hall and originally intended as a double-height, post-show bar. Under Mark Sladen it became a curated space for contemporary art and hosted the annual 'New Contemporaries' show of graduate artists and the 2002 Grayson Perry show for which he received a Turner Prize nomination.
For a whole the main galleries stuttered into populist nonsense with the execrable 'Art of the Harley' in 1998 and 'The Art of Star Wars' in 2000, although it has to be said that the computer-filled 'Game On' of 2002 was less nauseating. However, considering the unpromising start offered up by the architects, the Barbican's art teams and their new director, Kate Bush, can feel proud that they have fashioned something remarkable out of its ungainly spaces.
Triumphs 'Van Gogh in England' (1992), 'The Sixties' (1993).
Disasters 'The Art of the Harley' (1998), 'The Art of Star Wars' (2000).
CLASSICAL
Unlike the RSC the London Symphony Orchestra has stayed the course. Initial grumbles about the Barbican as a venue were balanced by the awareness of London's shortage of orchestral bases and spaces. During its Barbican years the LSO's soaring reputation as one of the world's top orchestras has been confirmed, most recently in the glow of Sir Colin Davis's Indian summar.
If the LSO's roster of conductors and soloists now reads like a who's who of international dazzlers, the BBC Symphony Orchestra's annual weekends devoted to contemporary composers, starting in 1988 with Harrison Birtwistle, justify the licence fee in themselves. And the latest development is the hugely successful run of concert performances of rare operas, unlikely to be staged for economic reasons, which has enabled the French group Les Arts Florissants under William Christie to reveal a world of baroque treasures.
Highlights? The mammoth festival 'Mahler, Vienna and the Twentieth Century' ' with the LSO, Claudio Abbado, visiting orchestras and the resources of a great arts centre ' was unforgettable. A dazzling early start (1985), it was the first of many themed festivals and seasons. Meanwhile, grumbles about the concert hall's acoustics prevail. When the hall reopened after refurbishment and acoustic tinkering in 2001, the critics whimpered with joy, an understandable overreaction; but foreign bands were still unimpressed. A newsletter written by one of the Minnesota Orchestra moaning about the acoustics upset the Barbican, but the message is unmistakable: London still lacks a first-rate hall worth of its musical life (at least until the refurbished Royal Festival Hall comes along).
What it does have is an enviable international arts centre that counters lost opportunities in design and location with coherent and often inspired planning, a mix, rare in Britain's artistic life, of the practical and cultural.
Triump Gergiev conducting Shostakovich symphonies last year.
Disaster Raymond Gubbay's ragbag humalong classics with ad hoc orchestras aimed at provincial coach-loads, paying high prices.
DANCE
Dance didn't really come on stream at the Barbican until the 1990s when both Sadler's Wells and Covent Garden were shuttered for renovation. Since then dance has leapt forward as a major strand in the venue's line-up. Dance Umbrella has been crucial ' Merce Cunningham's American company made its first appearance at Umbrella in October 1998, while the highpoint of the company's regular visits, and a turning point in the Barbican's commitment to dance, came in 2000 with the stupendous multimedia 'Biped'.
Upstairs in the main theatre dance continues to prosper. The Brazilian company of Deborah Colker, troupes from Israel, Taiwan, France and the USA lure audiences with innovative programming. The Pit has also provided some marvellously intimate moments, most recently Fabulous Beast Dance Theatre's 'Flowerbed', but also the TO Live Award-winning production of 'The Maids'.
Two current projects are dance oriented. Michael Clark is heading towards the culmination of his three-year Stravinsky project and Michael Keegan-Dolan's Dublin-based Fabulous Beast has just been added to the Barbican's artistic associate roster in a production deal set to continue through 2009. Dance is now well and truly centred at the Barbican.
Triumph Merce Cunningham's Dance Company's 'Biped' (2000).
Disaster Batsheva Dance Company's chaotic and pretentious 'Sabotage Baby' (2001).
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FILM
The Barbican, along with the NFT, is our city's leading cinema dedicated to the history and exploration of film beyond the easy catch of new releases. While it can't compete on the same terms as it southern cousin - which is publicly funded and has access to international film archives - the Barbican plays to its strengths: rather than concentrate on comprehensive director-led seasons, its three cinemas instead tread a more varied path inspired by their home in a centre dedicated not only to film, but also all the other arts. That's why we've lately seen film seasons such as 'Shostakovich on Film' and 'John Adams on Film', as well as explorations of how playrights such as Beckett and Ibsen have influenced filmmakers. While exhibitions such as 'Tropicilia' run in the gallery, you'll find corresponding films in the cinemas.
The sloping auditorium of the cinemas' main screen is perfect for Q&As and encourages audience participation. I've seen some superb post-film interviews there; the one that sticks in the mind was with the great Sengalese filmmaker, Ousmane Sembine, who was boisterous and unforgiving of the audience's less intelligent questions.
Triumph Q&A with Ken Loach for the release of 'The Wind that Shakes the Barley' in June 2006.
Disaster Hiding the two smaller cinemas, which can be impossible to find.
THEATRE
In 1982 the RSC moved into the new brutalist Barbican Centre, and a bunch of critics were late for the first performance because they couldn't get out of the car park. Irving Wardle, then the critic for the Times, crippled himself trying to kick a metal door down. The RSC never got used to the place. 'All's Well That Ends Well', 'Richard III' and 'The Seagull' were all major productions, but gradually the theatre began to feel restrictive as companies found unconventional new spaces in which to stage Shakespeare. The relationship between the RSC and the Barbican, including the managing director, Detta O'Cathain, grew increasingly fraught until artistic director Adrian Noble announced in 2001 that he was withdrawing the RSC altogether.
The Barbican quickly recovered - it's the RSC that has found life in the outside world more challenging than it expected. It expanded Bite, the adventurous seasons of international theatre that have featured world-famous names like Robert Wilson, Pina Bausch, Laurie Anderson, Lev Dodin and Robert Lepage. These are expensive companies and, truth to say, their often painterly images have proved more suited to the space than Shakespeare's more intimate, rougher work. The building will never be warm and welcoming, but at least the company now feels at one with itself, rather than trying to control a rebellious tenant.
Triumph 'The Far Side of the Moon' by Robert Lepage (2003).
Disaster 'The Merchant of Venice' directed by Peter Sellars (1994).
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'FINDING THE TOILET'S EASY'
What was the Barbican originally intended for, and what is it for now?
It was intended to fill a large hole in the City of London after the war - the largest piece of urban regeneration in the UK. It was built to provide arts facilities for local residents, but I don't think the people who planned it had any idea that it would become an artistic centre on the scale that it has.
How well does it achieve its aims?
I'd like to think it does so pretty well; it's one of the world's great cultural institutions, and that's in the words of other people, not me. The most encouraging sign is the audiences; we're getting more people coming, and more people coming more often. But I'm wary of pats on the back.
Why do you think the Barbican provokes so much debate among Londoners?
Whenever there are polls of people's most-loved and most-hated buildings, the Barbican tends to appear in both. I think that's great; the building itself provokes debate. That goes through to the work we put on: challenging, innovative work that will provoke a debate, which is a good thing.
If you were allowed to make one change to the architecture, what would it be?
Well, we've already done it: we've put on a front door, which has been successful and well-received. I suppose now that we've strengthened and clarified the northern aspect of the building, I'd like to do the same for the east, west and south.
What are your favourite buildings in London?
I like a mixture of classical and modern. I like St Paul's, Kenwood House, and St Pancras. I also like Richard Rogers' buildings, Nick Grimshaw's Waterloo station, and Foster's Gherkin has done more than any other building to redefine London's skyline. The Barbican took 20 years to be accepted. I think the British can be ambivalent about new architecture, which means compromises are made; you end up with buildings that say nothing about the time when they were made.
Has the building ever surprised you in the way it's affected a work of art there?
Yes. In our first season without the RSC, Deborah Warner put on 'The Turn of the Screw' (1997). She stripped out everything behind the proscenium, so the whole backstage area was opened up. It gave it an epic quality. Deborah did a similar thing with 'Julius Caesar'.
Do the odd-shaped spaces at the Barbican constrain the artists?
You've got to take account of the aesthetics. It challenges artists, and in some case it inspires them, but it doesn't have to constrain; it only does that if you let it. In some ways, because it's not a black box or a white cube, you have to fight the building.
The acoustics in the Hall have been criticised. How do you defend against that?
There hasn't been a complaint for a while. The Hall had major faults, which were partially rectified in 1994. By 2000 or 2001, they had been completely rectified, and now not only do people not complaint but we get compliments on the acoustics. So I don't need to defend it - it's been fixed.
Doesn't running thematic programmes mean shoehorning disparate strands into one building for the sake of it?
The short answer is 'no', but it is all too easy to get ensnared and try and fit everything into one theme. With the best festivals, natural links between different art forms appear, and you don't have to force the issue.
If you had to watch one Barbican production for eternity, which one would it be?
One would be the Merce Cunningham Dance Company's 'Biped' [1999]. It was a multi-depth, multi-technology production with real dance alongside 'virtual' dance; the movements were translated simultaneously on to a screen, and it never repeated itself. There's also Robert Wilson's 'The Black Rider', which was a brilliant piece of black comedy.
Have you ever got lost inside the venue?
Of course, everybody does! These days we've got new signage and better orientation, so we don't get nearly so many complaints. It's a bit of a cliche now, but it's still an initiation ceremony, finding yourself in one of the car parks and wondering how on earth you're going to make your way back. It's the Barbican adventure.
If your statue was put at the Barbican, where would you like it to be sited?
The conductor's rostrum in the Hall. It's the only way I'm ever going to get to conduct an orchestra.
What will the Barbican be like in 25 years?
I hope that we'll be able to continue on an upward curve, and I'd like to see us more out in the community and leading the agenda. Do I have a winning formula? I think so, but I'm not telling you what it is. The fact is, you can't just stick to what you're doing. Everything's changing - from the art we create, to how we proselytise it, to how we sell tickets - so you have to be light on your feet. Somebody said recently that the Barbican is a big institution that behaves like a small one, and I'm happy with that.
Finally, where are the toilets?
Finding the toilets is easy. Simply follow the brilliant, logical and very clear new signage.
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