Towards Croydon

Seen from above, seen from below.

The view from Taberner House

It is to do with the height of the buildings. By surrounding myself with tall buildings, I create a particular perspective. I frame my body in a relationship to the scale of the environment. This is the core of my experience. The truncated skyscrapers that punctuate the view seem terribly un-english – rather impolite for a suburban market town. Momentarily I feel that I am on holiday, the sense of alien familiarity that one gets in a foreign city. This is the dream of Croydon. At its heart is an old surrey village, but it dreams of being Marsailles.

A walk to Croydon

The dramatic verticals dare you to climb them, tease you with vistas seen only by a select few. In my mind I climb higher and higher, scale the brick and glass, until I become those gods and builders. But even The Great Architect is subject to the whims of another: The Great Planner, who sketches out masterplans and zonal development schemes across the canvas of time. Croydon is a present from him: a seed, a late flowering perennial, a sterile mutation that needs needs human assistance to propagate, but which gives to lifea rare flavour.

A walk to Croydon

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