Another Pictish Homage - Mile-End at Beechwood.

Having felt all brave and urban-explorerey looking round Oakbank, we needed to recouperate and sit down and have a nice refreshing and relaxing sip of tea from our flasks. So, looking for a nice place to rest, we found ourselves sitting on the un-dry-stane dyke at the entrance to the new Mile End School off Midstocket Road. The new Mile-End School is on the site of the former Beechwood School, which was for kids with special educational needs. Both schools are integrated now and the former Mile-End School sits empty to the east, about a half mile down Midstocket Road. We'll be keeping an eye on that.

Guarding the entrance to the new school is this homage to the Pictish Symbol Stones which are strewn all over Pict-land from the Forth to Shetland. We've noted the sculptor's work before, at Ruthrieston Pocket Park.

There have been about 350 known Pictish stones discovered to date. Historic Scotland have put together an excellent website which gives lots of information about the Picts and the artifacts and enigmas they left us to wonder over and waste our time blabbering on about. 

There are no doubt many, many more which have been ploughed under fields, biding their time and keeping their council, leaving us to guess and speculate on the nature of the Pictish enigma and their obscure symbol-language. Doubtless many more languish undiscovered, hidden in plain sight having been incorporated into more recent buildings or walls like the Brandsbutt Stone at Inverurie, which has now been restored. 

We don't know what we think about that. Certainly the stone should have been rescued from where it had been unthinkingly secreted -  unseen and unstudied. But some might suggest that the Blue Peter-y concrete patch 'restoration' almost mocks the stone.

Like the Brandsbutt Stone, the new sculpture at Mile-End School shows a "V-Rod" symbol in combination with a crescent.

Beneath the V-Rod and crescent we see a "Z-Rod" in combination with a "Double Sun". As mentioned above, the meaning of the symbols is obscure, but some analysts suggest that the V-Rod is a symbol of death, and that the Z-Rod in comination with the double-disk (or double-sun) represents the solar cycle and by association the cycle of life, death and rebirth into an afterlife. So maybe the sculpture represents the re-birth of the school in its new location.

Beneath the pictograms, we see an inscription in the Ogham alphabet which we can transliterate thus:

BUNIGDIFMNIEDERIT

OBARDHEATHIUN

Though perhaps we've gone wrong somewhere.

The new school with Foresterhill behind, looking to the skyscrapers of Cairncry

Autumn suits Midstocket Road

Oakbank School

Oakbank was, to people of a certain age in Aberdeen, the great threat. Used by our parents to guarantee our good behaviour, the threat of 'Approved School' (let's call a spade a spade: 'borstal') was weilded, Damoclean above our heads, as the place we'd end up if we didn't "learn to behave".

Oakbank main building.

I can just, if I strain, remember visiting Oakbank on an fundraiser open day in the 1970's (most probably the centenary celebration). A family outing to a borstal. Nice. All I can really remember was the celebrity guest of honour performing his tombola obligations. That guest of honour was local superstar continuity announcer Jimmy 'Spunky' Spankie, steadfast and redoubtable stalwart of Grampian Television's 'just like your living room' in-vision continuity suite. A man who's fame was compounded by his trademark plaid trousers, which he always wore. Those were the days.

Jimmy - wearing slippers and looking a bit 'tired'.

Oakbank was founded in 1878 and sited high in the Stocket Forest off Midstocket Road. When it was new it was then what was known as an 'Industrial School'; the class of institution which became know as 'Reformatories', then 'Approved Schools', then 'List D Schools'.  All just euphamisms for children's prison - though these institutions did have an open regime, which set them aside from the pure 'borstal', which is a tougher and more enclosed kind of youth prison.

Midstocket Road at entrance to Oakbank.

Latterly, Oakbank was classed as a 'List G School'; an establishment which catered for the needs of young people with emotional and behavioural disorders and specific mental health issues. We're gratified that over the decades the emphasis and aim of this institution changed from that of disciplined reform of the character to recognising that many of the troubled inmates were in need of intensive support - not punishment. Fees ranged from £93,600 to £179,400 per pupil per year.

The Governor's Lodge - a listed building.

However, nothing good will last forever, and we wonder about the fate of the institution's final pupils who were receiving that support In 2008 when it closed it's doors, the charitable trust which ran it collapsing amidst reports of mismanagement leading to "serious concerns about many aspects relating to the school". 100 jobs were lost. We hope that the skills which were embodied in that staff have not been dissipated and are still being used to help young people who need the support of our society, in order that - in turn and in time, they might become productive, active and supportive members of that society themselves.

Since the closure of the school, there has been all the usual now-you-see-it-now-you-don't bad things made to look good and good things made to look bad real estate dealing bullschist going on about getting the school rennovated to maintain its function (no chance!) or redeveloping it as 'aspirational, exclusive' housing (ker-ching!) or as a business park (the 'park' bit meaning 'carpark', of course). The local press report concerns of anti-social behaviour and vandalism at the abandoned site. There are also reports that dangerous chemicals and personal files are stored on the site. There has, it is said, been fire-raising. Local residents, it is reported, live in fear.

Document box-files plainly visible in office.

All very nasty, we're sure, and local councillor Bill Comrie has lead calls to have the school demolished, saying that the "huge amount of fear" suffered by his residents justifies the indescriminate destruction of the buildings by new site owner "Carlton Rock Ltd" (they don't appear to have a website). Thus conveniently clearing the site and clearing the way for planning consent in the spring (housing, we reckon being favourite). Yes. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good.

But at present, the site is lying vacant and derelict.

Pull up a seat...

And admire the views...

Guerilla, Public and Semi-Public Art in Queens Cross

Returning from our visit to the Crypto-Communist Roof of John Lewis, we walked back to Other Aberdeen Towers in the heart of downtown upscale Pitmuxton via a route suggested by this photo of the view from the Roof of John Lewis.

We're glad that we chose to walk that way, rather than slalom in-and-out between all the chuggers on Union St (bah!). We're glad we went off-the-beaten track, because, as so often, we were delighted by what we saw...

Smile, life is what u make it

This advice reminded us of the fellow psychogeographer (and guerilla artist) who we mentioned the other day, Lewis Dryburgh and his "A Message for You" guerilla art project which he conducted this summer in Aberdeen. It's always comforting to come across stuff like this - strangers sending uplifting and comforting messages out into the world. You could almost feel like you were being benignly watched over.

We said 'benignly"!

Eeek!

We were also delighted to come across a customised example of this most invisible and ubiquitous piece of street furniture; the "Bigg" electrical junction box (they control the streetlamps).

This junction box has been jazzed-up.
Action Art. Dynamic. More, please.

We like garden displays - even the kitschest gnome-tableau speaks of someone who cares deeply about their surroundings - and in Queens Cross the residents bring a sophisticated edge to the traditional garden gonk.

The feeling of being watched over continues.

Who knows what scenarios are played out by the personifications of these characters in this highly sophisticated display (below) with its toy-box juxtaposition of totems, tikis and teddies. Bart Simpson lies supine, his catapult broken and Thomas the Tank engine is derailed. The black horse standing at the foot of the eagle-headed totem-pole consults Scooby Doo for advice. Let's hope he gets it. The wooden woodsman looks stoically and silently on - a knowing smile spreading thinly across his lips, his axe-arm relaxed (but ready) as he surveys the scene with the bucket-living water-spirit. The teddies don't know what to make of it all.

Fantastical. Phantasmagorical. Literally - look it up.

Winner.

The Crypto-Communist Roof of John Lewis

Coincidentally continuing the theme of multi-storey car-park top-decks, today I found myself on the top of the building which is occupied by the John Lewis department store. The top of the building forms an adjunct to the Loch Street car-park of the Bon-Accord centre. The building was formerly called "Norco House" and was occupied by the department store of the Northern Co-operative Society.

The Communist Party and the Second and Third Socialist Internationals paid great attention to the Co-operative societies, seeing them both as a form of communism-in-action but also potentially as a counter-revolutionary lightning-rod sop to the working class; earthing the charge of revolutionary tension through their rosy ideologies; thus preserving the status quo.

As far as the Northern Co-operative Society goes (and, skating all too quickly over the surface of this frozen yet deep pond) its own history of soaring idealism betrayed by mis-management, pilfering, inefficiency, spanish practices, featherbedding, jobsworthy empire-bulding and eventual over-reach and collapse in 1993 (followed by subsequent carpet-bagging and asset-stripping) parallels the history of Soviet Communism itself. In a very approximate way. Sort of.

John Lewis is an employee-owned partnership business, which is managed through a system which resembles that of worker's councils, so it's entirely apt that they should occupy this building in Aberdeen.

The roof of the building is accessed by car via this thrilling sky-bridge from the main section of the Loch St carpark. The sky-bridge straddles Loch Street below. Pedestrians can reach the roof via the stairs inside the John Lewis store itself.

You can drive your car on top of that. Really, you can.

As usual, this open-to-the sky portion of the car-park was largely deserted.

Nobody here but us psychogeographers.

And the views are, of course, spectacular.

George St

Rubislaw

Gallowgate

Chapel Street Multi-Storey Car Park

PART 1

One of the things which first got us into this psychogeography lark was the writings of Alex Mitchell in his "Round and About" articles for Aberdeen Civic Society. In documenting one of his psychogeographcal walks, Alex tells us of the panoramic views which are available from the top-deck of Union Square's multi-storey carpark.

More recently,  noted local psychogeographer and guerilla artist Lewis Dryburgh appeared on the Fred MacAuley radio show via high-tech live link-up from the top-deck of an Aberdeen multi-storey car-park, enjoying his packed lunch and promoting his forthcoming attendance at a conference in London where he'll be talking about just this very subject.

There's clearly something in this...

So, armed only with open minds and a digital camera off we went to revel in the delights of the splendidly modernist brutalist pay-and-display municipal carparking facility which squats on the corner of Huntly Street and Chapel Street.

Béton brut

From the top-deck, we're treated to amazing views.

No motorist uses the top deck for parking.

Deserted

Someone's been enjoying a lovely snack ... Lewis?

Pizza, spesh & tabs.

As was mentioned on the Fred MacAuley radio show, because the motorists who park there prefer to use the lower levels (lest they inadvertently catch a glimpse of the sky or are exposed to the wind) the top-decks of these carparks are invariably-deserted splendid urban refuges and viewing platforms for pedestrians where the skyline of the town can be ogled in peace and tranquility, away from the street-level hurly-burly noise and pollution.

Serene

We're not even joking when we say that this aspect of the top-decks should be promoted. A handful of picnic benches could be installed and the area landscaped with a bit of container-planting. We appreciate that readers will draw a parallel between what we're suggesting and what's been proposed for Union Terrace Gardens, but we're not trying to be too-clever-by-half cynical here. The top-decks are a fantastic and extensive pre-existing resource within the heart of the city. We should make use of that resource as if it were urban green space. Even if it isn't.


PART 2

However... as with all things... not all is rosy in our putative urban garden on the top-deck. There are plenty artifacts around the place which signify the security regime to which this carpark is subject.

To intrude, deter and intimidate.

If not; lacerate, injure and eviscerate.

As we went to leave, descending the north-frontage starwell, we heard a voice shouting at us:
"Jist hud on you two, ahm wantin a word with yiz!"

This carpark has an Aberdeen City Council caretaker. Oh no! He's a jobsworth: his jobsworthy credentials confirmed by the fact that he only chose to challenge us as we were on the way out. Squatting in his bothy, pouring over the CCTV footage, he observed us. He watched what we were doing. He didn't like it. He told us that we were "bein checked up on" because "Ahv bin telt te keep an eye on things".

So, you saw us on your monitor and just assumed we were up to no good...
"Aye"

Hmmmm... in which case, why challenge us only when we were leaving - when it was perfectly clear that we'd done no damage, stolen nothing, touched nothing, interfered with nothing. Indeed (and as always) we'd behaved with a high degree of upright decorum. Surely it would have been much better to challenge us when he first saw us. Then we could have had a nice chat rather than him make insulting assumptions about us. Of course, we thought that if you've done nothing wrong - then you've nothing to worry about. Isn't that how the surveillance state was sold to us all? But by this unpleasant encounter we certainly felt we'd been punished for something.

Apparently he's been "telt te clamp doon" because he gets "a lot of Big Councillors" using his carpark.

Clamp down on what? Perfectly legal activity? What are they afraid of? Are they afraid that my act of photo-logging will scratch their car? Or is it like the First Nation people of North America who believed that to be photographed was to surrender a part of the soul? Does my act of photography devalue the car?

One of the reasons why we 'do' psychogeography is to uncover the events and relationships which are encoded within the environment of the town and the behaviours, events and relationships which in turn are moulded and promoted by that environment. Our jobsworth caretaker unwittingly reveals a number of these relationships, events and behaviours.

Do the "Big Councillors" (does that mean fat? he didn't specify) pay for their parking? Or is it a perquisite of their position; is this jobsworth merely a form of subsidised valet parking for the "Big Councillors"?

We can't imagine why so many "Big Councillors" are attracted to the area anyway.

According to the jobsworth, cars have been stolen from that car park. And so, having been "telt te keep an eye on things" the jobsworth believes that all non-conforming behaviour is challengable. The car-thiefs, it seems, can be detected by their enthusiasm for photo-location-logging.

Odd. We'd heard that over-indebted motoristis had been abandoning their heavily-financed hire-purchase cars in this facility. Quite the opposite of car theft.

Can't pay? Then just walk away.

And, as so often, as we make our way through life in the surveillance state and the empowered jobsworths it begets, we find ourselves thinking of he words of Bryan Finoki from his 'Field Guide to Military Urbanism' blog. The blog mostly refers to urban situations in war zones, siege areas, divided communities and the like - but these words are pertinent to us, now, here:

[The] contemporary city is defined by a kind of de facto psychopathology that is embodied in the very spaces and architectural rationales that order urbanization today, from gated communities to urban surveillance landscapes, to the last dying refuges of public space that have been [will be?] overwhelmed by privatization and a complete hyper securitization of the built environment at all scales.

One might ask... what is the current diagnosis and mental health state of western democracy? Or, how can the city be viewed as an architectural weapon to enforce behavior, to mandate neo-liberalism in a way, to turn a population into an obedient supporter of rampant commerce? What are the inherent narratives of power that run through spatial constructs like maximum-security prisons, shopping malls, refugee camps, suburban sprawl, and the hardened borderzones between nation-states? Is there a psychopathological connection between them? Is there a new urban archetype here to be deconstructed?

Yes. There is.

Something to See at the Traffic-Free Fernie Lea.

Traffic-free

The fernie-lea. No ferns, though.

Cycling along the pedestrian-and-cyclist-only hyperspace-shortcut-bypass that is Fernielea Road, overlooking the broad shallow valley of the Denburn at Summerhill, our eye was caught by a piece of public art - a mosaic - embedded in the wall of Hazelwood special needs school.

Out of the corner of the eye...

We were first put in mind of the Nasca desert lines and the characters which they depict. We were secondly put in mind of Hindu imagery.

Here's the whole thing - but a photo doesn't really do it justice.

And it put us, thirdly, in mind of an award-winning piece (it turns out, by the same artist) which we saw at the Aberdeen Artists exhibition at Aberdeen Art Gallery a few years back. Investigating closer, we see that the artwork is composed of many smaller ceramic artworks and found objects (or are they things made to seem as if they are found objects?) making up visual puns and cultural references which can be read and interpreted on several levels.

Geddit?

It's entertaining and thought provoking. We were surprised, amused, engaged, challenged and, to an extent, unsettled. The piece is signed (cryptically and pictogramically) and so, just a little Googling delivers us to the artist's - ceramicist Stephen Bird - website.

On his profile page you can read details of the project at Hazelwood and learn that it was one part of a commission which also included work done at Woodlands special needs school. The Woodlands piece was a 'huggable vase' which has been described as a "fascinating blend of childhood pleasures and fantasies".

Pride, achievement, ability - priceless.

The commission which resulted in the creation of the mosaic and vase explored the fundamental issues of disability and inclusion; the pieces having been created by the artist working alongside the pupils to use art as a means of two-way communication. Some children with special educational needs find it difficult to communicate and express themselves, and these artworks use the unique nature of art to communicate and stimulate; to empower and enrich  - thus transcending the linguistic and social difficulties which some of the children suffer, and giving them a great sense of pride, achievement and ability. So these pieces have an inestimable value (which is not the monetary kind!)

The site of the Woodlands special needs school and hospital has now, of course, been comprehensively redeveloped into a prestigious, exclusive, upscale development of aspirational housing for the affluent: "Woodlands at Pitfodels".

PaveParking at Woodlands at Pitfodels

The special needs school has relocated to Regent Walk in the north-east of the town, where we're told (thanks very much to the curators of Aberdeen Art Gallery for this essential information) that the 'huggable vase' can still be seen. We'll get along there at some point and report back.

The results of the commission (which was funded jointly by Aberdeen City Council and the Scottish Arts Council - now "Creative Scotland") received a Scotland Visual Arts Education Award which celebrates creativity and well-being. The awards panel recognised the transformative nature of the project: "Together, the artist's and children's sensitive collaboration produced artworks of deep meaning for the schools, the participants and future audiences." It would be a great pity if - in their quest for savings - national, regional and civic government were to make less funding available for similar commissions and awards in the future. That would be to mistake cost for value; to confuse money with wealth. The two things are, of course, quite different.