Tagged: urban-design
Green Squares and Secret Gardens
31 Jul 2021
At the end of July I went to have a look around some of the private gardens opened up by the annual Green Squares and Secret Gardens event. Sadly it was compressed into a single day this year, for various Covid-related reasons, it seems, so I didn't get to poke around too many places. I went to:
- A talk by the oldest resident of Victoria Square
- The St Vincent's Rocks Hotel garden
- The Paragon garden
- Cornwallis Crescent gardens, both east and west
- The Polygon garden
And snapped a few things in between, too. It was a lovely day—a bit too hot, if anything—and it was interesting to get into a few places I'd only ever seen from the outside, especially The Paragon and Cornwallis gardens, which are the least visible to passing strangers of all of them.
You can just about see the profile of Queen Victoria in the keystone; apparently it's the same image as used on the Penny Black.
I've been wanting to go through these gates for a while; you can only get tantalising glimpses of the listed extension from the bit of grass adjacent.
This is how the other half live—making sure that the Suspension Bridge is still there without having to leave one's boules court.
I think at the far left edge of this photo, near the bottom, you can see about as far as I got down the old Prince's Lane on a previous wander. This pic was, I believe, taken looking up at the garden in the foreground. I think the greenhouse there is still being constructed, and wasn't there during my earlier wander, but you can see some of the building materials, I think.
A Long Wander Of Miscellany and Magick
08 Aug 2021
This was a wide-ranging wander. I started off crossing the river to Bedminster, to walk a single little cul-de-sac, Hardy Avenue, that I'd managed to miss on at least one previous walk. Then, pausing only to explore a few back alleyways, I headed for a few destinations related mostly by the Hughes family, who I've been researching a little as part of background for a possible novel, as several of them were involved in the Stella Matutina.
However, mostly it's the artistic side of the family I wanted to explore today, as that's where most of their public history lies (as you might expect, there's often not much in the public record about the workings of an occult organisation.) First I visited College Green, where the façade of the Catch 22 Fish & Chip shop still bears the work of Catherine Edith Hughes. Then I wandered up to the top of Park Street to pop into the Clifton Arts Club's annual exhibition, as Catherine, her half-brother Donald, his wife Hope and at least two other Hugheses were members. Donald was chairman for 40 solid years; Hope was Secretary for eight, and Ellard and Margaret Hughes, two more Hughes siblings, were members along with Catherine.
Finally I walked home with a small diversion to Berkeley Square, to confirm the location of Donald Hughes's house by checking for a particular plaque by the front door.
I must admit I'm not entirely sure where all this research is really leading me, but I'm finding it quite interesting to bump across the faint lines of history that link the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, founded in 1888, to modern, quotidian Bristol.
The extra strip of modular shops and eateries at Wapping Wharf seems to be doing quite well.
The rather derelict looking building on the corner of Prince Street and Royal Oak Avenue was at one point a Seaman's Mission & Instutue, and more recently an evangelilcal church of some kind. It was damaged during the war and seems to now be some kind of Frankenstein's monster of architecture with an odd modern frontage. The rather more together-looking (but still, frankly, unattractive!) building to the left is Prince House.
Edit to add: (19 June 2022): Know Your Place has just tweeted some amazing photos of the chapel interior (here's some more) that have just been added to the Community Layer on their incredibly useful website.
These days it's a fish and chip shop, but it started as the Cabot Cafe.
According to this description of an etching by Alexander Heaney:
Built in 1904 for an estate agent, Walter Hughes, to the design of Latrobe & Weston, architects well known for their cinemas. Above the word ‘Café’ can just be seen the Pomegranate mosaic with enamel insets by the client's daughter, Catherine Hughes, taken from Charles Rickett's bookbinding for Oscar Wilde's A House of Pomegranates, 1891.
Caroline's Miscellany tells us:
Less bright, but equally beautiful, are the copper panels to either side. These continue the pomegranate theme and are pure Art Nouveau. Other details, by contrast, are more baroque (a mixture of styles characteristic of LaTrobe and Weston's work).
Cabot Cafe suffered damage in the Second World War. We are fortunate, then, that this intriguing facade nevertheless survived to delight us today.
As I mentioned, these pomegranates were made by Catherine Hughes, daughter of the estate agent who commissioned the cafe.
The Hughes name is one to conjure with. I'm specifically interested in the Hughes family as I've been researching the Golden Dawn1 for a novel, and at least three Hugheses were members of its later offshoot, the Stella Matutina. Catherine Hughes (Lux Orta Est), who made these tiled pomegranates was, I believe, the first Imperatrix of the No. 28 Bristol Hermes Temple of the Stella Matutina, running it to begin with from her home at St Vincent's Studio, Redland, just off the top of Whiteladies Road.
We'll be hearing a bit more about some other members of the Hughes family in a little bit, as I decided to turn this wander into a bit of a magical excursion, for fun and research and because of handy timing and geographical coincidence.
I don't know if these pomegranates from 1904 predate Catherine Hughes's interest in magic per se, but they were made years before she joined the Stella Matutina, in early 1908, so I can't say that they were created by a practising magician!
1 No, not the Greek nutters. The British Victorian, er, eccentrics.
I wandered into a back alleyway that I hadn't explored before.
I reckon this is the back of Denmark Street, around where Smoke and Mirrors is.
I reckon this is probably the Co-Op's air conditioning. Don't tell me I never take you anywhere exciting.
Currently the University of Bristol's Beacon House, it was originally the Queens Hotel, built by William Bateman Reed, who also built a stretch of Victoria Square, among other things. Every Bristolian older than thirty probably still thinks of it as "the old Habitat building", though. I've got curtains in this very room that were bought there...
Museum of the Moon, and a Bit of Redland
21 Aug 2021
Lisa and I mostly went out to have a look at Luke Jerram's Museum of the Moon as its tour hit Bristol Cathedral—I missed it when it was previously in town, at Wills Hall, I think—but we also took a trek up to Redland. Lisa's kind enough to indulge my strange current fascination with the Edwardian eccentrics that made up the Stella Matutina, so we swung by a couple of places with a vague connection to the Bristol branch of the organisation. Well, it was good walking, anyway...
As a stunning bonus, one of the picture's descriptions has more information than you'd probably want on the Bristol Port Railway and Pier's Clifton Extension Railway line, but I did happen to coincidentally write up this wander after reading about the extension line during my lunch hour at work today. It's a thrilling life, I tell you...
Mostly the Metal Animals of a Clifton Garden
30 Aug 2021
Lisa and I went for a longish walk, but I didn't take many photos. Mostly we just wandered and nattered. Unusually, my target was outside my 1-mile radius on Burlington Road in Redland, where I snapped quite a few photos of the collection of artistic animals by Julian Warren. This was mostly to provide a fairly arbitrary destination for a roundabout walk in Clifton...
I don't know enough about fruit trees to know what this was, but I can tell you that the fruit was apple-ish and very sharp indeed.
Unusual to see an espalier on a north-facing wall. This one faces the little car park behind Freeland Place
The controversy about the pedestrianisation of this section of Princess Victoria Street continues to rage on NextDoor (seriously; I just had a look and the most recent thread about it had more than three hundred comments!)
Anything to do with parking/people driving into Clifton Village is always an insanely hot topic. I've never been able to get that worked up about it, myself, but then I live within walking distance (and I'm not trying to run a business that relies on people driving to me...)
Local councillor Katy Grant had this to say in a Nextdoor post:
...many sonar and other tests have been carried out to see if felling it could be avoided. Sadly, there has been no way out, and there is a risk that the tree will imminently start to be a danger to passers-by.
So this has been the sad outcome. A three metre monolith will be left behind, as a feature, and a habitat for insects and other creatures. A new beech will be planted alongside during thus winter's planting season. And six other trees will be planted along the edge of the Park Place green slope.
Short and Sweet
06 Sep 2021
As if to prove that I don't have to go on giant rambles, here's a quick four-photo trip up to Clifton Village for a bit of cake. No new streets, just a tiny slice of life.
Shiny New Hope
24 Sep 2021
A quick lunchtime jaunt to Clifton Village. Along the way I admired the new sign on Hope Chapel and added to my tsundoku collection.
There's a mason at work on the carved pilaster tops on the frontage of the old Coventry (and before then, Stroud and Swindon) Building Society. They've moved everything to a central branch in town in the interests of efficiency, so now I have to go to bloody Broadmead to do anything.
(Yes, I actually went into town to get a cheque out of the building society just the other day, in 2021. I know I should chuck this old-fashioned malarkey in for a shiny electronic account, but it's for the management committee of the house I live in, so there's complexity and inertia involved...)
A Morning of Research and a Cafe in a Castle
25 Sep 2021
I needed to pop to the library, as they'd kindly dug a book out of the reserve store at the B Bond warehouse for me and emailed me to let me know it was ready. So, I took a little trip to town, straight down the Hotwell Road, and spent a few hours reading before stretching my legs with a walk to a new cafe in the actual castle (or remnants thereof, anyway) of Castle Park, before heading back home down the other side of the harbour. As well as books and coffee, I bumped into a remote-controlled pirate ship, which isn't something you see every day, even in Bristol.
There are some unexpected links between Triodos Bank and some of the magical stuff I've been researching. I first found out when I checked the upcoming events at the Bristol Theosophical Lodge and saw a director of the bank would be giving a talk there. Apparently the bank is rooted in the ideas of Rudolf Steiner's anthroposophy. The Guardian says:
Its roots (like the UK bank Mercury Provident, which it took over in 1995), are in the anthroposophy movement. This refers to the ideas of the Austrian spiritualist thinker Rudolf Steiner, who died in 1925 and whose interests included education, 'biodynamic' agriculture, eurythmy (movement as art) and therapeutic medicine.
Triodos Bank's statutes committed it to anthroposophical principles until 1999, when this formal link was dropped, and in recent years the bank, under its current head Peter Blom, has embarked on a policy of reaching out beyond Steiner adherents and of broadening its appeal. Nevertheless, Triodos's origins are reflected in the fact that most of the Dutch directors come from within anthroposophy, and it is banker for many Steiner-inspired projects.
I like this little watery installation at Castle Park, so I try to cut through here if it's on my way.
The chambers were apparently once the entrance to the castle's great hall. Historic England has this section of the castle at 13-14th century
I was interested to see it, but a little underwhelmed, if I'm honest. A fairly bland interior and a perfectly adequate flat white—not much "wow" factor.
And towering over one of Bristol's oldest buildings, here's one of Bristol's newest, Castle Park View. Its 26 storeys towering up at 98 metres, it's now Bristol's tallest building, having beaten the 80m Castlemead and St Mary Redcliffe to joint second earlier this year. I'm not sure I'd fancy living in one of the 375 flats, but the view must be nice.
It's bad enough that the terrace opposite was demolished, without some hurriedly-qualified HGV reversing into the new1 buildings on this side...
1 I suppose "new" is relative. But on most of the maps I've been looking at recently these flats don't exist yet. I think the earlier buildings included a smithy and at one stage what looks like a tap-room, the Stork Tap, for the larger Stork pub that used to occupy what's now Stork House on the main road below. You basically couldn't move in Hotwells without falling into a pub throughout most of its history. The modern-day suburb seems positively teetotal in comparison...
I recently indulged myself by buying a little piece of history. I've mentioned Samuel Loxton and featured and linked to his drawings before, often in the eminently browsable Loxton Collection albums that Bristol Libraries has on Flickr. So when I saw a Loxton drawing of Hotwells pop up on eBay, I decided to get myself a little treat.
I don't think there's any Loxton drawing that features the road I actually live in—it's not very visible from anywhere else, not being one of these Clifton terraces that's perched at the top of a hill, or anything like that, and it's invisible in most views of the area. However, this Loxton drawing, Hotwells, Looking across the river from near the Clifton Bridge station, is probably the closest near-miss I've seen.
I decided to wander out one morning and see if I could reproduce the picture, and also take a photo or two of what's now become of the Clifton Bridge Station, which is still just about discernible in places.
(Then on an even stranger whim I decided to check out a possible little cut-through from Cumberland Road to the harbourside I'd been eyeing up on my commute to work, so walked to Wapping Wharf for a croissant via this potential new route, but that bit's not quite as interesting...)
I'd broadly planned to figure out the vantage point Loxton had used for his drawing by lining up Windsor Terrace with The Paragon, so I started taking bearings fairly early.
Which is why swapping to this side of the river seemed like a good plan. Coronation Road is bloody noisy at the best of times, and it's currently got all of Cumberland Road's traffic diverted down it.
This, on the higher level, is the garages around the back of the houses on Cumberland Road.
And that, on the far side, is my regular commuting route in the mornings (and often the evenings—I only walk along the north side of the harbour if I'm late for work or if I fancy a change, as the Hotwell Road is a bit too trafficky to be that pleasant.)
So, this must be where everyone from the harbourside flats parks their cars. I never really thought to wonder where the parking was before.
Docks Heritage Weekend Day One
09 Oct 2021
I could spend a lot of time at the Docks Heritage Weekend, poking my nose into industrial places along the harbourside that are usually closed off, but throw open their doors once a year to show off a bit of the backstage area of Bristol's floating harbour. In fact, I warn you: the next wander is a long one, and will have quite a few photos.
However, for today's wander, on the Saturday, my friend Lisa needed a shorter walk than our usual long rambles, as she's recovering from an operation and still a little under the weather, so we just wandered into town for some food and back, with me making mental notes of the places I wanted to come back to on the Sunday... We walked through Underfall Yard, along to the L Shed (this is the warehouse next to the M Shed museum, where they still have the kind of fun old industrial stuff that used to be crammed into the M Shed's predecessor, the old Industrial Museum), through the street food market in town to Ahh Toots for cake and then back home. So, still quite a walk, but no hills and not so much of Lisa having to hang around waiting for me to fool around taking photos as usual, at least...
I wasn't expecting to see a train carriage in the Lloyds amphitheare. Apparently it's got something to do with Stephen Merchant's new drama The Outlaws. They're filming some of it down at my end of the harbour soon, too; I've had a letter through the door about night shoots that'll be closing sections of the Hotwell Road.
I'm afraid that this is a bit of a badly-curated wander, where I mostly just popped out to find out a little of the history of Underfall Yard and poke around the various open workshops, and, in hindsight, really didn't take pictures in any kind of coherent order. So there's a lot of pictures, but they don't really tell the story that, in hindsight, I seem to have been trying to tell, of the unusual electrical substation in Avon Crescent, the Bristol Electricity that predates the National Grid but is still in use, the history of the hydraulic power house... It's a bit of a mess.
But I suppose sometimes these wanders—always chronologically presented in the order I walked and took photos—simply will sometimes be a bit of a mess. Let's hope you still get something out of it, anyway...
It's very hard to get a decent look at this building. This is the top half of the back of it.
I have now moved buildings, to the Power House. This was the hydraulic cornerstone of the power for many of the key docks systems in Bristol. The hydraulic system powered from these electric (formerly steam) pumps was responsible for opening lock gates, moving sluices, operating cranes, and turning or raising some of the heftiest swing bridges in Bristol.
Here I've finally found my target, according to the nice man giving the demonstrations. The electrical control system used to control the hydraulic system's pumps, along with the pumps themselves, would have been too complicated and time-consuming to re-engineer to modern electrical standards when the National Grid came along, to say nothing of having to close down this cornerstone of many of the important mechanisms of a busy working dock while it was done, so some arrangement was come to with the electricity company to simply keep supplying the old, non-standard 360V electricity, which is why it still comes that way from the Avon Crescent substation.
I can rarely resist snapping this house on the end of Freeland Place at this time of year, especially when the sun's catching both of the ivy-covered sides (well, Boston ivy, anyway; parthenocissus tricuspidata, I think.)