This is partly because of what the
philosopher Walter Benjamin termed "vertical type": in this case,
slogans blazoned all over these temporary structures, exhorting us to
buy and walk and observe and "inherit"-- in short, instructing us on how
to be flaneurs, as if we haven't been doing this stuff all our lives.
The
boxy installations evoke the innumerable railway carriages that
clattered northward from the three great stations -- as well as the
equally myriad narrow boats that oozed through the stygian waters of the
Regent's Canal.
This evocation
somehow counts against the brightly futuristic promise of the new
building developments, and draws us back again to the area's dark past.
King's Cross has this peculiar air, still, of enormous and surly gravity
-- the filth and effluent from the old gasworks that once operated here
compacted to atomic densities -- and an opposing levity: everyone is
hurrying, everyone is going somewhere at speed.
The
Guardian Media Group has its new offices in King's Place, which also
contains an arts venue and exhibition areas, plus the ubiquitous foodie
overkill without which no new public building can pat its glassy,
parametrically designed stomach and announce itself to be complete.
This
publishing company can be seen as the liberal counterweight to the 1
million square feet of office space Google is acquiring in King's Cross
Central (as the redeveloped locale is being styled by its developers).
As
a contributor, I occasionally go into the Guardian's offices, and I've
also taken part in live events at King's Place, after which I've eaten
in its restaurant, looking out at the great scum of oil and pigeon
feathers that swirls over the waters of the canal basin -- a nice
contrast to the acres of blond wood and plate glass within.
There
are shiny new restaurants everywhere, many of them -- Caravan, Dishoom,
the Grain Store -- in striking old industrial spaces. Later this year
Jamie Oliver is opening a canal-side complex in Goods Yard that will
house his company headquarters along with a vast restaurant.
Lisa
Allardice, editor of the Guardian's Review section, told me that when
she moved here with the rest of the paper's staff from the old Gray's
Inn Road offices, "The most exciting thing to do was a trip to the
pharmacy at lunchtime." Now, Allardice is a King's Cross booster: "We
can't move for all the incredible buildings and bright young hipsters
out on a Thursday evening."
This is partly because of what the
philosopher Walter Benjamin termed "vertical type": in this case,
slogans blazoned all over these temporary structures, exhorting us to
buy and walk and observe and "inherit"-- in short, instructing us on how
to be flaneurs, as if we haven't been doing this stuff all our lives.
The
boxy installations evoke the innumerable railway carriages that
clattered northward from the three great stations -- as well as the
equally myriad narrow boats that oozed through the stygian waters of the
Regent's Canal.
This evocation
somehow counts against the brightly futuristic promise of the new
building developments, and draws us back again to the area's dark past.
King's Cross has this peculiar air, still, of enormous and surly gravity
-- the filth and effluent from the old gasworks that once operated here
compacted to atomic densities -- and an opposing levity: everyone is
hurrying, everyone is going somewhere at speed.
The
Guardian Media Group has its new offices in King's Place, which also
contains an arts venue and exhibition areas, plus the ubiquitous foodie
overkill without which no new public building can pat its glassy,
parametrically designed stomach and announce itself to be complete.
This
publishing company can be seen as the liberal counterweight to the 1
million square feet of office space Google is acquiring in King's Cross
Central (as the redeveloped locale is being styled by its developers).
As
a contributor, I occasionally go into the Guardian's offices, and I've
also taken part in live events at King's Place, after which I've eaten
in its restaurant, looking out at the great scum of oil and pigeon
feathers that swirls over the waters of the canal basin -- a nice
contrast to the acres of blond wood and plate glass within.
There
are shiny new restaurants everywhere, many of them -- Caravan, Dishoom,
the Grain Store -- in striking old industrial spaces. Later this year
Jamie Oliver is opening a canal-side complex in Goods Yard that will
house his company headquarters along with a vast restaurant.
Lisa
Allardice, editor of the Guardian's Review section, told me that when
she moved here with the rest of the paper's staff from the old Gray's
Inn Road offices, "The most exciting thing to do was a trip to the
pharmacy at lunchtime." Now, Allardice is a King's Cross booster: "We
can't move for all the incredible buildings and bright young hipsters
out on a Thursday evening."
A friend of mine, the artist Antony Gormley, was throwing his
65th-birthday party in his studio on Vale Royal where for the past 13
years he's constructed vast and steely artworks based on the form of his
own body.
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