London_Vol_4_Issue_1

Architecture in London
Volume 4. Issue 1.
Editors’ welcome
It is with great excitement that this year’s commi ee introduces to you the first
online edi on of the Queen Mary Undergraduate History Journal for the 2014/15 academic
year. Established in 2011, the History Journal con nues to publish brilliant essays from
undergraduates month a er month, year a er year, a fact that pays testament to the high
standard of work expected by the School of History, and of which our undergraduates are
capable.
This year has been no different and, on behalf of our fi een essay-editors, we would
like to thank all of the undergraduates who submi ed their essays for this edi on; it was an
absolute pleasure reading them and pu ng them forward for peer review. The History
Journal would also like to congratulate those of you whose submissions were successful. A
special thank you must also be given to the School of History; without their unwavering
support, the transi on from last year’s commi ee to the incumbent would not have been
nearly as smooth. Furthermore, without their generous funding, we would have been unable
to organise the successful social launch at the beginning of this new academic year.
Queen Mary University of London boasts the largest self-contained student campus
in central London and is minutes away from some of the capital’s most famous landmarks
and ins tu ons. It was with this in mind that the History Journal commi ee chose this
month’s theme of ‘Architecture in London’. We hope that this edi on serves to intrigue and
enlighten you, and that next me you find yourself wandering around the capital, you look
around that li le bit more.
Graciously yours,
Shabbir Bokhari (Editor in Chief) and Catriona Tassell (Commissioning Editor)

Queen Mary History Journal
3
Contents
What was the effect of aesthe c theories of the sublime 4
and the picturesque on Sir John Soane’s architectural designs?
Sam Allen
Why the name brutalism? Discuss the theore cal origins of 15
the English movement by analysing three key projects in London.
Hannah Askari
How is the Classical style expressed in St Paul’s Covent Garden 29
and Christ Church Spitalfields?
Sam Allen
An examina on of All Saints and Margaret Street. 38
Charlo e Herrington
Sam Allen Sir John Soan’s architectural designs
4
What was the effect of aesthetic theories of the sublime
and the picturesque on Sir John Soane’s architectural
designs?
Sam Allen
The designs of Pitzhanger Manor, Ealing and The Soane Museum at Lincoln
Inn Fields are the most expressive representa ons of Sir John Soane’s poe c and
idiosyncra c architectural style. Designed and constructed as personal projects, the
two sites show Soane working without the curtailments of private financiers or the
public authori es and offer compelling demonstra ons of Soane’s personal,
architectural “principles”. Soane drew from a variety of styles; Roman, Greek, Italian,
Gothic, all of which he sought to subvert in some manner. However, it is the effects
of aesthe c theories, namely the picturesque and the sublime, that make Pitzhanger
Manor and the Soane Museum unique. This essay will examine the effect of these
theories. A er a brief delinea on of these aesthe c principles I will examine Soane’s
treatment of space in both buildings and how these are complimented by his
manipula on of light in rela on to contrast and fragmenta on. The exteriors of the
buildings will then be analysed, ending with a considera on of the buildings as
“ruins”. It will be argued that while the picturesque plays a more dominant influence
in the buildings through Soane’s emphasis on variety and ‘the unexpected,’

Architecture in London Issue
5
Soane’s unique manipula on of the observer’s “experience” of his buildings
invokes sensa ons closer to the aesthe c principle of the sublime.
While Soane’s early works demonstrated a preoccupa on with neo-classical
forms, by the late eighteenth century he had begun to develop a more dis nc ve
style, one that was partly informed by a contemporaneous interest in aesthe c
theory.1
The aesthe c theories of the sublime and the picturesque emerged in the
eighteenth century as Roman cism superseded accepted no ons of enlightened
ra onalism in art and literature. With Roman cism came new concep ons of
aesthe cs and the classical concep ons of beauty in art and architecture were
challenged. Edmund Burke’s A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of
the Sublime and Beau ful published in 1756 stands as the most influen al account of
the sublime. Burke sought to dichotomise the sublime on the one hand the beau ful
on the other.2
The sublime, according to Burke, related to the awe-inspiring effect of
a scene o en drawing shock or horror from the observer. Indeed, Burke described
the sublime in physiological terms which emphasised the emo onal experience of
the observer; hence tension playing a significant part in its effect. The picturesque
emerged later in the eighteenth century and it related to the pictorial value of art
and architecture. This o en related to nature and landscape and thus emphasised
variety, irregularity and lack of symmetry.3
Both theories thus deconstructed the
classical concep on of beauty that emphasised order and symmetry and implied the
subjec on of humans to the natural world.
6
These aesthe c principles are par cularly evident in the manipula on of
space in The Soane Museum and to a lesser extent in Pitzhanger Manor. While the
Soane Museum appears to be based on a basic axial plan (fig. 1), the ways in which
space is u lised within this framework is highly inven ve. Robin Middleton observes
that Soane created “what appear to be perfectly regular, symmetrically framed
spaces but wraps layers around skeletal frameworks and subverts geometry by
dematerialising the architecture.”4
This is demonstrated by a sec on of the whole
building (fig. 2). Soane created a “labyrinth of space”5
in which the observer
encountered unexpected views, further complicated by mirrors. The building
cannot be apprehended as a whole but rather experienced in a very individual
sense.
Figure 1. Plan of the Soane Museum.
Ostensibly the building is designed on a basic axial plan but the
several openings of each room provide a mul plicity of passages

7
Figure 2. Sec on of the Soane Museum.
The museum is built on two floors connected
by a spiral staircases. There is no clear route
for the visitor hence the sense of a ‘journey’.
Furthermore, the manipula on of space works on two levels: first within the
rooms themselves, and secondly as a series of connec ng spaces. Richard Lorch has
highlighted the Breakfast Room as a ‘space within a space’ (fig. 3). The dome of the
room provides an addi onal enclosure within the room thus playing with the feeling
of interior and exterior.
Figure 3. The Breakfast Room, The Soane
Museum.
The domed ceiling of the breakfast room
gives a sense of enclosure within an
enclosed space. However, this is
compromised by the opening in the centre
of the ceiling and the spaces between the
ceiling and the walls. Hence Soane plays
with the concept of space to invoke a
peculiar spa al awareness in the observer.
8
This manipula on of internal space and light ostensibly demonstrates Soane’s
preoccupa on with the aesthe c principle of the picturesque. The “labyrinth of
spaces” invokes a sense of the unexpected as the visitor moves through the museum
further reinforced mul plicity of viewing points and employment of mirrors. Indeed,
Soane reflected upon these picturesque effects when he described the breakfast
parlour:
“The view from this room into the Monument Court and into the Mu-
seum, the mirrors in the ceiling and the looking glasses, combined with
the variety of outline and general arrangement in the design and deco-
ra on of this limited space, present a succession of those fanciful
effects which cons tute the poetry of architecture..”6
However, Soane’s “poetry of architecture” effects can be seen to induce a
more profound experience in the observer with closer es to the sublime. As Lorch
argues, the contras ng character of the rooms, the mul plicity of visions, the strong
contrasts of light and dis nct lack of order all serve to build up to an immense
experience that connotes the sublime rather than the picturesque.7
Lorch suggests
that the incomprehensibility and unpredictable aspects of the differing and
connec ng spaces works to leave the viewer “astonished through the unexpected
interrup on.”8
Hence the power of these ‘picturesque’ effects essen ally invokes a
sense of the sublime in that they bring about sensa ons and sen ments of awe in
the observer.

9
Soane also manipulates internal space and light in Pitzhanger Manor and plays
with the no on of enclosed space and implicit routes through his building. Indeed, a
similar use of ceilings in the Breakfast room (fig. 4) and library (fig. 5) focus the rooms
inwards giving the sense of enclosure which is then undermined by the openings of
the walls.9
According to Ptolemy Dean the starfish vault ceiling of the library
emphasises “enclosure and release.”10
Fig. 4. The Breakfast Room, Pitzhanger
Manor.
Soane’s use of light, the several openings
and the domed ceiling serve to give a
similar effect as that invoked in the Soane
Museum’s breakfast room.
10
Fig. 5. The Library, Pitzhanger Manor.
Enclosure and release defines the space in the library at
Pitzhanger manor. The vegeta on detail of the ceiling
nods to the Picturesque principles of nature, while the
various openings lead to a feeling of disorienta on that
can be associated with the sublime.
The exteriors of the buildings also invoke effects of the sublime and the
picturesque. In both the Soane Museum and Pitzhanger Manor, Soane subverts
classical forms to create unique facades. Indeed, the front façade of the Soane
Museum demonstrates a toying with the classical triumphal arch form (fig. 6). The
loggia and por co protrude outwards announcing the building to the street and
giving it a pronounced status. Anthony Jackson has argued that the unique façade
breaks with the uniformity of the surrounding Georgian terraces and thus nods to
picturesque values of variety and the unexpected 11
.

11
Fig. 6. The Front Façade of the Soane Museum.
The façade immediately draws the observer’s
a en on to the museum giving it a marked status
compared to the conven onal Georgian town
houses.
Similar observa ons can be made of the front façade of Pitzhanger Manor (fig.
7), with Soane playing with classical forms. Four fluted ionic columns and the
balustrading all nod to classical Greek architecture. However, the building is
decorated in yellow paint giving it an appearance that evokes a picturesque taste for
variety. The landscape design of the surrounding grounds seem to be directly
influenced by the picturesque with the front gate cons tu ng a triumphal arch which
offers a glimpse to a winding path leading to the façade. The false ruins at the eastern
side of the building complete the effect of the “unexpected”, while also evoking a
scene of melancholic decay. This offers a picturesque landscape view of the grounds
from the house while also hin ng at grandeur and fragmenta on, which can be
a ributed to the sublime in a similar vein to the fragments of an quity in the Soane
Museum.
12
Fig. 7. Front Façade of Pitzhanger
Manor.
Soane plays with classical forms
in the front façade of Pitzhanger.
The fluted ionic columns invoke
a classical Greek por co which is
then mocked in the ruins
connected to the Western part
of the building.
Notes
1. David Watkin, English Architecture: A Concise History (London: Thames &
Hudsonm 1997), p. 143.
2. Edmund Burke, A philosophical enquiry into the origin of our ideas of the
sublime and beau ful: and other pre-revolu onary wri ngs (London New
York: Penguin Books, 1998).
3. Dabney Townsend, “The Picturesque” in The Journal of Aesthe cs and Art
Cri cism, Vol. 55, No. 4 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 365-376.
4. Robin Middleton, “Soane’s Spaces and the Ma er of Fragmenta on” in John
Soane: Architect, Master of Space and Light, eds. by Margaret Richardson and
MaryAnne Stevens (London, Royal Academy of Arts, 1999), pp. 29-30.
5. Ibid p. 29.
6. Sir John Soane, Descrip on of the House and Museum, Lincoln Inn Fields,
London, 1830, 1832, 1835-6, p. 13.
7. Richard Lorch, “The Architectural Order of Sir John Soane’s House,” in
Interna onal Architect, No. 9, vol. 2, issue: 1/1982, pp. 43-48.
8. Ibid p. 45.
9. Ptolemy Dean, Sir John Soane and the Country Estate (Aldershot: Ashgate
Publishing Company, 1999), p. 95.
10. Ibid p. 95.
11. Anthony Jackson, “The Façade of Sir John Soane’s Museum: A Study in
Contextualism” in Journal of Society of Architectural History, Vol. 51, no. 4,
(Dec 1992) p. 424.

13
List of Illustrations
Figure 1. Plan of the Soane Museum:
h p://www.soane.org/john-soanes-diary/archive/august_10th_1812.
Figure 2. Sec on of the Soane Museum:
h p-//archsoc.westphal.drexel.edu/New/ArcSocIIISA7
Figure 3. The Breakfast Room, The Soane Museum:
h p://omelo.co.uk/2012/10/light-in-the-dark
Figure 4. The Breakfast Room: The Times:
h p://www.the mes.co.uk/ o/arts/visualarts/architecture/ar cle3071497.ece
Figure 5. The Library, Pitzhanger Manor:
h p://allthingsruﬀnerian.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/world-of-sir-john-soane.html
Figure 6. The Front Façade of the Soane Museum. The Soane Museum:
h p://www.soane.org/museum
Bibliography
Burke, Edmund, A philosophical enquiry into the origin of our ideas of the sublime
and beau ful : and other pre-revolu onary wri ngs (London New York: Penguin
Books, 1998).
Dean, Ptolemy, Sir John Soane and the Country Estate (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing
Company, 1999).
Jackson, Anthony, “The Façade of Sir John Soane’s Museum: A Study in Contextual-
ism” in Journal of Society of Architectural History, Vol. 51, no. 4, (Dec 1992) pp. 417-
429.
Lorch, Richard, “The Architectural Order of Sir John Soane’s House,” in Interna onal
Architect, No. 9, vol. 2, issue: 1/1982, pp. 43-48.
14
Bibliography
Middleton, Robin, “Soane’s Spaces and the Ma er of Fragmenta on” in John Soane:
Architect, Master of Space and Light, eds. by Margaret Richardson and MaryAnne
Stevens (London: Royal Academy of Arts, 1999).
Soane, John, Descrip on of the House and Museum, Lincoln Inn Fields, London, 1830,
1832, 1835-6.
Stroud, Dorothy, “Sir John Soane and the Rebuilding of Pitzhanger Manor” in In
search of modern architecture: a tribute to henry-Russell Hitchcock, eds by Helen
Searing, (New York: the architectural history founda on, 1982), pp. 38-51.
Townsend, Dabney, “The Picturesque” in The Journal of Aesthe cs and Art Cri cism,
Vol. 55, No. 4 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 365-376.

15
Why the name Brutalism? Discuss the theoretical origins of
the English movement by analysing three key projects in
London.
Hannah Askari
The term Brutalism spread throughout England a er the Second World War
describing ‘a programme or an a tude to architecture’.1
Although it has come to be
iden fied with brutality, it does not advocate anything linked to brutality. It is ‘an
ethic, not an aesthe c’; Brutalism has an impera ve role in recognising the everyday,
the ordinary and the mass culture rather than projec ng a vision of high culture.2
The three Brutalist London projects: The Barbican Complex, Royal Fes val Hall and
Robin Hood Gardens differ slightly in func on, yet all embrace socio-poli cal ideas
crucial to post-war urban planning. Aesthe cally, Brutalist architecture asserts itself
in an una rac ve and threatening way, but ethically Brutalism champions a Welfare
State ideology and seeks to encapsulate a utopian dream.
Peter and Alison Smithson, the most obs nate pair of Brutalist architects,
demanded that this movement ‘tries to face up to a mass-produc on society and
drag a rough poetry out of the confused and powerful forces which are at work’.3
They resisted the simplis c viewing of Brutalism as merely Béton brut (raw concrete)
and stand firm on the fundamentally ethical nature of the architectural movement.
The couple were commi ed to a post-war Welfare State ideology in their
Hannah Askari Brutalism in London architecture
16
architecture. Robin Hood Gardens (fig. 1), completed in 1972, is a residen al estate
in Poplar, East London. It pioneered the idea of ‘streets in the sky’, highligh ng their
devo on to combining amicability and prac cality in social housing.
The Smithson’s denounced Le Corbusier’s architectural philosophy that towns
and ci es should be segregated into specific areas of residen al, occupa onal, and
leisurely. Their ideal city coalesced a mul tude of ac vi es within one area. Thus,
Robin Hood Gardens gives the tower block complex, ‘streets in the sky’, a large
garden space and wide balconies on each level (fig. 2). This was an a empt to
encourage the residents to feel as though they belonged to a community, similar to
those on a conven onal street. Peter and Alison Smithson have gone a step further
in building social housing by thinking about crea ng a social ethos through
architecture that would not usually be found in social housing. It is a housing estate
like no other, recognising that no ma er what class one belongs to, all have a right to
peaceful, healthy and harmonious living, which begins with the structural design of
one’s home.
Similarly, the Royal Fes val Hall (fig. 3), built in 1951 for the Fes val of Britain,
asserts itself as a democra c hall in a number of ways. When it was first built,
everyone passed through the same door upon entering, wandered around the cen-
tral foyer space, had equal vision of the stage and access to fine acous cs wherever
one was sat; due to the fairness which infiltrates the Royal Fes val Hall, it is a
‘monument to the Welfare State’.4
Nikolaus Pevsner described the Royal Fes val Hall

17
as ‘a freedom and intricacy of flow in their own way as thrilling as what we see in the
Baroque churches of Germany and Austria’.5
This is a telling associa on not just
because of the reference to historicism (something that is rarely found in Brutalist
architecture), but because it is a direct reference to the way one encounters space
(fig. 4), no ma er what the building type. One can argue that, whether religious or
not, feelings of peace, approval, awe and social harmony are just some senses to
describe encounters with some religious loca ons. These are similar feelings one
acquires when entering the Royal Fes val Hall, especially for the first me. The
building creates a sense of space and draws one to think about how we feel about
the space. Similarly to a church or cathedral, the sense of hierarchy is broken down
deliberately and cleverly. Therefore, the comparison draws impera ve reference to a
welfare ideology; in religion everybody is equal in the eyes of God and, similarly,
Royal Fes val Hall gives the feeling that everyone is equal in the eyes of a Welfare
State. Consequently ‘its significance as architecture, its aesthe c or poli cal being,
does not reside in its concrete, steel, glass and marble elements, nor in their
combina on but in the minds of those who have gone into it’.6
Therefore, to argue
this building is democra c, one must think about the experience not its material
features, emphasising that Brutalist architecture is ‘an ethic, not an aesthe c’.
The Barbican Estate (fig. 5) was built in an area of London that had been al-
most completely devastated by the Blitz bombing in 1940 during the Second World
War. It should therefore encompass the idea of rebuilding Britain from scratch with a
18
Welfare State ideology. However, it is arguable that despite being built a er the war,
when the country was commi ed to consensus poli cs and seeking regenera on,
the Barbican Estate is an estate that does not have the inten on of providing for
those who depended upon the Welfare State. ‘Chamberlain, Powell and Bon
recognised that only upper and middle-class housing would provide the required
return for the area’.7
Therefore, the Barbican Estate cannot be regarded as a success
to social housing. Despite the capitalist no ons, one can not deny the posi ve sense
of community it seems to have provided amongst residents: ‘re red people - doc-
tors, lawyers, lords and ladies - love it. They join its socie es, hold compe ons for
the best window boxes and generally fuss over the place as they do over
grandchildren’ (fig. 6).8
Ul mately, Brutalist architecture does aim to have a Welfare
State ideology, which Robin Hood Gardens and Royal Fes val Hall manage to exert.
Whilst the Barbican Estate is only a ainable as housing for a select elite, it does
manage to achieve a utopian dream, arguably more superior than the other two
buildings.
The Barbican Complex succeeds in ‘providing an experience that mixes
exhilara on with hesita on’.9
It is a concrete complex that exposes rawness and
brings new life to the city, flaun ng its concrete utopia. The rough, exposed concrete
is dis nctly six es and as one enters the estate it feels as though they are walking
back in me; at first glance the concrete is punishing to fresh eyes, yet through
explora on of the Estate, one discovers lakes, gardens and waterfalls which clash

19
beau fully with the sinister concrete (fig. 7). Furthermore the Barbican Complex
represents a mood of hope and creates an insight into the Brutalists utopian dream
which, in turn, makes it an incredible success story for the aggressive Briutalist
aesthe c. Equally, as one gets tangled up in this utopian dream it is incredibly hard
to pry yourself away from its magne sing concrete (fig. 8.).
The Royal Fes val Hall in 1951 had the similar quali es: Bernard Levin
reminisces that ‘at the end of a concert, the audience could not bear to leave, to go
from this beauty and opulence into the drab world of postwar Britain’.10
This
describes the powerful impression that the Royal Fes val Hall had on its visitors, one
that portrays a utopian dream and outside of it lays a postwar nightmare. Today,
although the Fes val Hall has given in to consumerist requirements, it s ll has a
se ling atmosphere, a place where one can just be without needing an excuse or
reason to be there (fig. 9). Compare this to the recep on Robin Hood Gardens has
recently received; crime, decay and social deteriora on encroach the Brutalist
masterpiece to the extent that Tower Hamlets Council believe its fate is in
demolishment. Thus, unfortunately, Robin Hood Gardens has ceased to realise the
Brutalist utopian dream even though it is a pioneering piece of architecture. In
ques oning why this has happened, one could argue that it is a social problem, not
an architectural one. However, the ominous concrete mass that is Robin Hood
Gardens does not render its survival to some. As one approaches Robin Hood
Gardens ( see fig. 1 again), the first reac on is that of surprise. Although it is very big,
20
it is not as tall as the tower blocks that encircle it. As one gets closer and recognises
the drab and abandoned aura (fig. 10) the concrete transfers the sense that ‘the 40-
year-old building is having a mid-life crisis’.11
However, it is simple to discover that
flats under social housing are not made like this anymore. Robin Hood Gardens is
successful as ‘streets in the sky’(fig.11) but the Smithsons’ housing clearly differs to
social housing today which suggests that the higher the tower block, the be er.
The demoli on of Robin Hood Gardens signifies the end of an era for a part of
Britain’s housing history; it represents the end of democra c housing that provided
for the masses whilst simultaneously considering harmonious living. Equally, if we
compare Robin Hood Gardens to Park Hill in Sheffield (fig. 12), a Brutalist housing
estate opened in 1961, which by the 1980s had ‘descended into dilapida on and was
no longer a place people wanted to live in’.12
Park Hill has now been listed as a Grade
II building and has thus been the recipient of some much needed admira on, yet s ll
has almost ‘gone to rack and ruin’.13
There is a clear difference in the management
to fulfil the Brutalist utopian dream between the Barbican Estate, Royal Fes val Hall
and Robin Hood Gardens; possibly because of the different amount of care and
a en on each has experienced since its construc on. This emphasises that Brutalist
social housing tends to go unno ced and is o en disregarded. Many do not care for
Brutalist architecture because it asserts itself in an ugly, confronta onal and fierce
way (fig. 13). However unsightly brutalism is for some, ‘the problem was not the
fabric of the houses, but the depriva on of the people who lived in them’.14

21
Ul mately, Brutalism is ‘an ethic, not an aesthe c’ and I would argue that it is
because of this, that it has o en been overlooked because of its unusual beauty.
Jonathan Meades claimed that ‘something that is universally tolerated is likely to be
pre y boring. Anything that's any good, and original, is going to incite hatred as
much as it does adora on – because of the very fact that it's so unfamiliar’.15
Arguably, this is true of Brutalism. The beauty is in the ethics it yields: a Welfare
State ideology and its aspira ons for a utopian dream for the people. Robin Hood
Gardens (fig. 14), the Barbian Estate and the Royal Fes val Hall are all fundamental
buildings of the Brutalist movement and encapsulate these ethics; however some of
them are less successful in impar ng the ethics in today’s individualist society.
Notes
1. Reyner Banham, The New Brutalist: ethic or aesthe c?, (The Architectural
Press, 1966), p. 10.
2. A term introduced by Reyner Banham.
3. Alison Smithson and Peter Smithson, "The new brutalism." MIT Press (2011).
4. Adrian Forty, The Royal Fes val Hall – A Democra c Space?, p. 206. In eds.
Iain Borden, The Unknown City: Contes ng Architecture and Social Space (MIT
Press, 2002) pp. 200-212.
5. Susie Harries, Nikolaus Pevsner: The Life, (Random House, 2011) p. 514.
6. Adrian Forty, The Royal Fes val Hall – A Democra c Space? p. 206. In eds. Iain
Borden, The Unknown City: Contes ng Architecture and Social Space (MIT
Press, 2002) p. 204.
22
7. Elain Harwood and Andrew Saint, London: Exploring England's Heritage,
(Sta onery Office Books, 1991), p. 125.
8. Jonathan Glancey , The Guardian, "A great place to live.", 2002. h p://
www.theguardian.com/educa on/2001/sep/07/arts.highereduca on
(accessed 24 Mar 2014).
9. Ken Allinson, London’s Contemporary Architecture, (Architectural Press, 2006)
p. 44.
10. Bernard Levin, Enthusiasms, (Jonathan Cape, 1983), p. 176. In Adrian Forty,
The Royal Fes val Hall – A Democra c Space? p. 206. In eds. Iain Borden, The
Unknown City, p. 206.
11. Chris Beanland, The Independent. "Robin Hood Gardens: An estate worth
saving?." 2012. h p://www.independent.co.uk/property/house-and-home/
robin-hood-gardens-an-estate-worth-saving-7440094.html (accessed 24 Mar
2014).
12. David Sillitoe, the Guardian, "The utopian estate that's been le to die." 2014.
h p://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/the-camera-eye/2014/mar/05/
park-hill-sheffield-utopian-estate-le -to-die (accessed 24 Mar 2014).
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid.
15. Jonathan Meads, ‘Bunkers, Brutalism, Bloodymindedness: Concrete Poetry',
BBC4, February 2014.
Bibliography
Allinson, K. London’s Contemporary Architecture, (Architectural Press, 2006) p. 44.
Banham, R. The New Brutalist: ethic or aesthe c?, (The Architectural Press, 1966).
Beanland, C. The Independent. "Concrete buildings: Brutalist beauty." 2014. h p://
www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/concrete-buildings-
brutalist-beauty-9057223.html (accessed 26 Mar 2014).
Beanland, C. The Independent. "Robin Hood Gardens: An estate worth saving?."
2012. h p://www.independent.co.uk/property/house-and-home/robin-hood-
gardens-an-estate-worth-saving-7440094.html (accessed 24 Mar 2014).

23
Bibliography
Forty, A. The Royal Fes val Hall – A Democra c Space?, p. 206. In eds. Iain Borden,
The Unknown City: Contes ng Architecture and Social Space (MIT Press, 2002).
Glancey , G. the Guardian. "A great place to live." 2002. h p://
www.theguardian.com/educa on/2001/sep/07/arts.highereduca on (accessed 24
Mar 2014).
Harries, S. Nikolaus Pevsner: The Life, (Random House, 2011).
Harwood, E. and Saint, A. London: Exploring England's Heritage, (Sta onery Oﬃce
Books, 1991), p. 125.
Meads, M. ‘Bunkers, Brutalism, Bloodymindedness: Concrete Poetry', BBC4, Febru-
ary 2014.
Rose, S the Guardian. "Don't knock brutalism." 2008. h p://www.theguardian.com/
artanddesign/artblog/2008/jun/26/dontknockbrutalism (accessed 26 Mar 2014).
Sillitoe, D. the Guardian. "The utopian estate that's been le to die." 2014. h p://
www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/the-camera-eye/2014/mar/05/park-hill-
sheﬃeld-utopian-estate-le -to-die (accessed 24 Mar 2014).
Smithson, A and Smithson, P. "The new brutalism." MIT Press (2011).
24
Fig. 1.Robin Hood Gardens.
Image by author.
Fig. 2 Balconies on every level,
because everyone deserves a balcony!
Image by author.
Fig. 3. Royal Fes val Hall from the
south east. Image by author.
Image collection

25
Fig. 4.The democra c foyer
of the Royal Fes val Hall
Image by author.
Fig. 5. Picture of a map of the
whole of the Barbican
Complex. Image by author.
Fig. 6. Very well kept homes
from the outside. Image by
author.
Image collection
26
Fig. 7. The utopian dream.
Image by author.
Fig. 8. Raw concrete and raw
edges at its ﬁnest. Image by
author.
Fig. 9. Mothers and mee ngs; a
contrast of people taking advantage
of the ‘se ling atmosphere’. Image
by author.
Image collection

27
Fig. 10. Abandoned
Image by author.
Fig. 11. A street in the sky!
Image by author.
Fig. 12. Park Hill,
‘framed by itself’.
Image by Davis S lli-
Image collection
28
Fig. 13. ‘ugly, confronta onal and ﬁerce’ (and stunning) Image by author.
Image collection

29
How is the Classical style expressed in St Paul’s Covent
Garden and Christ Church Spitalfields?
Sam Allen
If we are to define classical style as one that derives its decora ve elements
from the architectural canon of Greek and Roman an quity1
, a comparison of Inigo
Jones’ St Paul’s Church Covent Garden (1630-1633) and Nicholas Hawksmoor’s Christ
Church Spitalfields (1714-1729) offers significant insight into how the interpreta on
and appropria on of this ‘architectural language’ changed and developed during the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Constructed nearly a century apart, both
buildings display an adop on and manipula on of the classical style to project
contras ng concep ons of the Anglican Church. Whilst Jones opted for the primi ve
grandeur of the Tuscan temple, Hawksmoor evoked towering authority through
Baroque crea vity.
Both Jones and Hawksmoor give their church facades an austere
appearance through their use of minimal decora ve ornamenta on and choice of
the plain Tuscan order to define their exteriors. However, as one of the earliest
examples of classical architecture in England, Jones’ faithful adapta on of the Roman
temple keeps St Paul’s piazza-facing façade strictly within the parameters of Roman
classical style (Fig. 1).
Sam Allen St Paul’s Covent Garden and Christchurch Spitalfields analysis
30
Jones employed the basic port and lintel system with four widely spaced Tuscan
columns suppor ng the trabea on. This forms the un-ornamented
architrave and the base of the large pediment that together with the columns
makes up the church’s Roman inspired por co. The widely spaced Tuscan columns
(fig. 3), each with squared plinths, and the plain architrave work to give the por co a
primi ve and func onal appearance. The wall on the inside of the por co is
dominated by a large doorway that is flanked by arched windows on each side (fig.
4). This is mirrored on the West-facing façade, the primary entrance to the church.
Much has been wri en about the adop on of the Tuscan temple as the
church’s architectural template, resul ng in widespread agreement that it was an
a empt to emphasize the austere mentality of the Protestant religion, which was
also a demand made by the financier of the project.2
Giles Worsley advances this
theory by contending that Jones a empted to architecturally restore the church
building to its early Chris an age by alluding to late pagan and early Chris an
architectural forms, such as the Prostyle temple plan (fig. 2).3
St Paul’s Covent
Garden was one of the first churches built in London following the establishment of
the Anglican Church and it was highly likely Jones’ was cognizant of the growing
debate concerning the appropriate character of the Protestant church.4
While it is
almost impossible to postulate Jones’ true objec ve, it is clear that his employment
basic and func onal classical elements reflected a par cular concep on of the
Anglican

31
Church.
Whilst Hawksmoor also used Tuscan columns to evoke an austere mood in
the West-facing façade of Christ Church Spitalfields (fig. 5), his inversion of many
classical conven ons gave Christ Church a very different impression compared to
that of St Paul’s. The front façade can be divided into three stages. The first incorpo-
rates two sets of Tuscan columns suppor ng separate por cos joined by an arched
pediment which shelters the entrance to the Church (fig. 6). While Jones elected for
a plain architrave for the por co at St Paul’s, the pediments at Christ Church are
more sophis cated and nuanced (fig. 8). Indeed Hawksmoor embellishes the entab-
lature through the installment of a frieze and a pronounced cornice that is cyma-
bracketed.5 The por co resembles a Vene an window that features in truer form in
the rear façade of the church (fig 7.). The round arch features as a mo f throughout
the rest of exterior and in par cular the upper two levels of the front façade.
These upper levels feature more inven ve manipula on of classical ele-
ments with Hawksmoor experimen ng with round and linear shapes such as arch
headed openings that would come to define the English Baroque as well as porthole
windows that feature on all four sides of the church. The installment of the steeple
completes the progression from the classical to gothic and gives the church its dis-
nc ve and towering presence (fig. 9).6
32
Hawksmoor’s inclusion of large pedestals suppor ng the Tuscan columns,
aided by the large set of steps leading up to the front façade of the church, helps
augment the feeling that the observer remains below the structure if observing
from the front. Indeed, this works to establish Christ Church as a towering
structure raised above the level of the surrounding area. While the financing and
construc on of Jones’ St Paul’s was a private undertaking, Christchurch on the
other hand, was commissioned by the government following an Act of Parliament
in 1711. The state commissioning of the church certainly influenced the manner in
which Hawksmoor designed the building. The imposing structure would have
stood as a beacon of Anglican authority reflec ng contemporary efforts to combat
the growing religious non-conformity in the surrounding area.7
A comparison between St Paul’s Covent Garden and Christ Church
Spitalfields simultaneously charts the changing appropria on of the classical style
in English architecture, as well as the development and changing conceptualiza on
of the Anglican Church. While Jones strived to evoke grandeur by communica ng
through ancient simplicity and austerity, Hawksmoor crea vely combined the
classical and the gothic to highlight the poli cal and religious superiority of the
Church of England.

33
Notes
1. John Summerson, The Classical Language of Architecture (London: Thames
andHudson, 1980), p. 8.
2. John Summerson, Inigo Jones (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000).
3. Giles Worsley, Inigo Jones and the European Classicist Tradi on, (New Ha-
ven: Yale University Press, 2007), pp. 134-135.
4. Ibid.
5. ’Christ Church: Architectural descrip on’, Survey of London: volume 27:
Spitalfields and Mile End New Town (1957), pp. 169-177. URL: h p://
www.bri sh-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=50166 [Date accessed: 12
November 2013].
6. Pierre de la Ruffiniere Du Prey, Hawksmoor’s London Churches: Architecture
and Theology (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000), p. 104.
7. Ibid., p. 99
Bibliography
John Summerson, The Classical Language of Architecture (London: Thames and
Hudson, 1980).
John Summerson, Inigo Jones (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000).
Giles Worsley, Inigo Jones and the European Classicist Tradi on, (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2007).
’Christ Church: Architectural descrip on’, Survey of London: volume 27: Spitalfields
and Mile End New Town (1957), pp. 169-177. URL: h p://www.bri sh-
history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=50166 [Date accessed: 12 November 2013].
Pierre de la Ruffiniere Du Prey, Hawksmoor’s London Churches: Architecture and
Theology (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000).
Images
Figure 1: East-facing façade of St Paul’s Covent Garden (Allen, Samuel, 2013)
Figure 2: Tuscan columns of St Paul’s Covent Garden (Allen, Samuel, 2013)
Figure 3: (Allen, Samuel, 2013)
34
Images
Figure 4: Plan of St Paul’s Covent Garden (Allen, Samuel, 2013)
Image collection
Figure 1: The East
facing façade of Inigo
Jones’ St Paul’s
Church Covent Gar-
den. The pediment is
supported by four
Tuscan columns to
form the structure’s
por co.
Figure 2: Plan of St Paul’s. The Church is based
on the Roman Temple plan which takes the
form of a Prostyle temple.

35
Figure 3: Two of the four Tuscan columns that
support the pediment of St Paul's East-facing
facade. The outer columns are squared con-
tras ng with the two round central columns. All
four columns have squared plinths.
Figure 4: The doorway, which is
mirrored in the Western entrance
to the Church, cons tutes the only
decora ve detail.
Image collection
36
Figure 5: The front façade of Christ
Church Spitalﬁelds.
Figure 6: Christ Church Spitalﬁelds’ arched
por co supported by Tuscan columns and
large pedestals.
Figure 7: The rear of the church features a
Vene an Window with an emphasised cor-
nice. This mirrors the design of the por co at
the front of the church.
Image collection

37
Figure 8: The entablature of Christ
Church’s arched por co.
Figure 9: The steeple tops the front-
façade of Christ Church Spitalfields. It
was originally decorated with chains of
acanthus.
Image collection
Charlo e Herington All Saints and Margaret Street analysis
38
An examination of All Saints, Margaret Street, with a focus
on its architectural style and the relationship between this
and the key material employed; brick.
Charlo e Herington
Designed by architect William Bu erfield the construc on of All Saints,
Margaret Street, began in 1850 and, with it, the High-Victorian phase of the Gothic
revival emerged.1
Built of brick, All Saints’ is one of the first major buildings to make
use of colour through construc onal polychromy; a crucial characteris c which is
present throughout the church. In this piece I will look more closely at the Gothic
style of the church and the way in which this is expressed. As well as focusing on the
employment of its key material – brick. By analysing the material and construc onal
details, I will explore their links to the architectural style, and the more general
context, of the church in High-Victorian London.
The origins of All Saints is closely linked with the Ecclesiological society
because Alexander Beresford-Hope – one of the founders of the society - funded its
construc on. The society sought to rekindle Anglican ardour by encouraging a return
to the glories of medieval architecture. It was quickly iden fied with Tractarianism.
Which sought to restore tradi onal Catholic teachings and ceremonies within the
Church of England following the Catholic Emancipa on Act of 1829.2

39
When the Ecclesiological society proclaimed its desire to erect a model church the
decision was soon made that Margaret’s Chapel – originally located on the site of All
Saints – would be rebuilt for this purpose. However, the chapel had a Tractarian
congrega on and as such was unfit for Anglo-Catholic ceremonial.3
The
Ecclesiologists decided that Middle-Pointed – otherwise known as fourteenth
century Gothic – would be the style for its model church.4
When facing the façade of All Saints from Margaret Street Bu erfield’s
masterful exploita on of a limited space is striking. He accommodates not only the
church, but also a choir school and a clergy house. The seemingly individuated
components are situated around a small entrance courtyard which is dominated by
the church’s overbearing tower and steeple. Gothic embellishment is evident in the
lancet arch entrance, in the recurring gable mo f of the buildings that flank the
church, and in the arched clerestory windows (1,2). Furthermore, the bu ress,
which is constructed in stages and terminates in a pinnacle, appears to be typical of
fourteenth century Gothic buildings. Notable amongst these Gothic elements is the
widespread use of brick throughout. This choice of material seems prac cal for the
sooty atmosphere that permeated London at the me of the church’s development.
It also connotes a strong sense of modernity and urban character at a me when
brick was being mass produced.
40
Fig. 1. Photograph of parish rooms
which flank All Saints to the le . Red
circles highlight the recurring gable
mo f which is also apparent on the
entrance archway.
Herrington, C., 10/02/2014.
Fig. 2. Photograph of All
Saints southern façade from
Margaret Street. The Gothic
lancet creates the entrance-
way to the courtyard and
shapes the clerestory win-
dows.
Herrington, C., 10/02/2014
For a deeper understanding of the use of brick and its relevance to
Gothic ,revival though we must turn to the influences of architectural theorists. For
instance, Augustus Pugin and John Ruskin. As a Catholic, Pugin proclaimed Gothic’s
superiority. Its architecture, he believed embodied the Chris an faith. For him it was
impera ve that a building’s style fi ed its purpose and he saw the revival of medieval
architecture as linked to the revival of Catholicism. For the Ecclesiologists and
Tractarians however, it signified the poten al for the much needed Anglican
resurgence. John Ruskin published his Seven Lamps of Architecture in 1849,
coinciding with Bu erfield’s designs for All Saints, and much of it is based upon

41
Pugin’s principles. Most importantly, Ruskin advocated the natural use of colour as
seen in the polychrome architecture of Italy. Although he, among others, s ll viewed
stone as superior his influence and the search for coloured materials seems to have
led to a new evalua on of brick under Bu erfield. Influenced by Ruskin and the brick
churches of Italy and northern Germany All Saints displays the characteris cs
admired in medieval buildings. However, it expresses this through the materials of
the modern industrial age. The exposed red brick of the church’s exterior includes
bands and zigzags of black brick. In addi on to, the inser on of broad bands of stone
which great an extraordinary contrast that highlights the arched windows and
doorways (3). This polychrome pa erning is confronta onal to some extent but the
sober colouring prevents the structure from capturing the eye. Perhaps crucial given
its already hidden nature? Chris Brooks has argued that Bu erfield’s use of
polychromy reinforces the honest and expressive values of Gothic principles
highlighted by both Pugin and Ruskin.5
Fig. 3. Photograph showing the
structural polychrome pa erning of
All Saint’s street-facing façade. The
black zig zags of black brick injected
into the red brick is circled. The
bands of stone stand out in contrast
to the brick, highligh ng the window
and the door into the bap stery.
42
The journey made through the courtyard to inside the church creates a sense
of being progressively drawn into the most important holy area. Light pours in
through the western stain-glassed window to illuminate the construc onal
polychromy which suffuses All Saints from floor to ceiling with ornate detail.
Consequently, on a dull day the colours are not highlighted to their full poten al.
Nevertheless, when stood within the nave, confronted by the rich colour and decora-
on you might mistakenly think you were in a Catholic church. As we have seen,
however, this was the whole idea of the Anglo-Catholic movement; the colour is an
asser on of Catholicism in the Protestant church. The polychroma c effect of the
exterior con nues internally but is much richer and more strident. Brick is s ll appar-
ent but the materials and pa erns vary remarkably. Decora on is linked with sepa-
rate construc onal parts of the church and so the boundaries of different pa erns
meet abruptly; brick encountering stone, coloured le, granite and marble. This is
apparent in the contrast between the predominantly brick wall of the bap stery
which is more muted in its colour and design, and the elaborately pa erned marble
and le spandrels of the nave arcade (4). The construc onal polychromy is even
present in the pulpit which is constructed of various types of marble which create a
geometrical colour mosaic. Furthermore, Bu erfield’s led floor exhibits
polychrome design, the nave featuring a deep red background with white stone
diaper and black check. These different classes of material - rare and common,
expensive and cheap - are placed in juxtaposi on. Represen ng the openness of the

43
church at a me when the Anglo-Catholic movement was trying to reinforce the faith
of the masses.
Fig. 4. Photograph depicts the
contrast in the colour and
pa erning of the
predominantly brick
polychromy of the northern
wall with the elaborate and
mul -coloured spandrels of
the nave arcade. These
pa erns alter abruptly.
With regard to the interior, All Saints suffers from a chequered history. It
took many years to complete, with altera ons made to original aspects of
Bu erfield’s design. This includes the grand ‘re-redos’ of the chancel; originally
completed by William Dyce in 1853-9, it was reproduced in 1909 by Ninian
Comper.6 Bu erfield’s inten ons are s ll very apparent in All Saints however. He
was clearly influenced by Ruskin and his endorsement of construc onal polychromy.
But what Bu erfield has managed to do, according to James Steven Curl, is create a
percep on of the medieval architecture so yearned for, combining the differing
influences at the me to produce his own original design.7
Bu erfield, with the
prac cality of brick, which was mass produced and weathered well, created a
modern church. The inser on of lavish colour and decora on, as well as the large
size of the chancel, despite the restricted space, fulfilled the demands of revived
44
Anglican ritual. Overall, All Saints marked a new stage in the Gothic revival. Indeed,
Paul Thompson has claimed that the influence of the widespread and excessive use
of construc onal polychrome became the hallmark of High-Victorian church gothic.8
Notes
1. See number of sources for arrival of High-Victorian Gothic with construc on
of All Saints’, including: Brooks, C., The Gothic Revival, (London: Phaidon,
1999), p.309 and Curl, J. S., Victorian Churches, (London: B.T. Batsford, 1995),
p.66.
2. Curl, Victorian Churches, pp.27-29.
3. Thompson, P., ‘All Saints’ Church, Margaret Street, Reconsidered’, Architec-
tural History, vol.8, (1965) p.74 .
4. McIlwain, J., All Saints Margaret Street, (London: Jarold, 2005) p.4
5. Brooks, The Gothic Revival, p.301.
6. McIlwain, J., All Saints Margaret Street, pp.16-17.
7. Curl, Victorian Churches, p.67.
Bibliography
Brooks, C., The Gothic Revival, (London: Phaidon, 1999).
Curl, J. S., Victorian Churches, (London: B.T. Batsford, 1995).
McIlwain, J., All Saints Margaret Street, (London: Jarold, 2005).
Thompson, P., ‘All Saints’ Church, Margaret Street, Reconsidered’, Architectural
History, vol.8, (1965) pp.73-94.
Thompson, P., William Bu erfield, (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1971) p.349.

45
Editor-in-Chief
Shabbir Bokhari
Sub-editor
Becky Adkins
Commissioning-editor
Catriona Tassell
Design-editor
Nirah Knight
Head of Design
Sandip Kana Social Secretary
Phoebe Cousins
Queen Mary History Journal Committee 2014/15
Essay-editors
Mamataj Begum
Lisa Bull
Pearce Branigan
David Clements
Rhiannon Doran
Kieran Jones
Carl Lentz
Essay-editors
Sebas an Lowe
Anna Macaninch
Lauren Macaskill
Vivan Nabukenya
Lucrezia Raggio
Amy Sinclair
Jake Stephen Vo
Poppy Waring
Contributors
Sam Allen
Hannah Askari
Charlo e Herrington
ISSN 2049-3134

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