By Douglas Kruger
IN a previous column, I looked at beauty in modern architecture. Globally, there appears to be a popular preference for classical buildings over the newer forms of brutalism, minimalism, and all things post-modernist.
Researching that topic has affected my algorithms. YouTube now presents me with a daily dump of exquisite buildings and elegantly arched bridges in a variety of foreign nations, in addition to exotic belly dancing videos. Not sure how the latter got there.
Watch enough documentaries on beauty in architecture, and you pick up some common themes. For example, the presence of water.
Many globally renowned views incorporate bodies of water, whether pre-existing or designed. Some have channels that forge a path right through areas of habitation, like the Thames through London, canals in Venice and Holland, or even the humble addition of fountains, ponds or pools to public works. Surprisingly, they abound in Moscow, which is prettier than I’d ever have guessed.
In the simplest terms: water is beautiful.
It’s true here too. Whether veiled in a ghostly mist, or reflecting bright spring sunlight, Jersey’s harbours are surely our most Instagrammed features. Guernsey’s St Peter Port even more so.
Have we ever considered extending this visual theme beyond our ports?
Two options spring to mind.
Jersey has previously practised land reclamation. Given our pressing needs for more entertainment, more living space, more room to breathe, why not do it again? And if done, why not make water the primary visual anchor?
I dearly love a gracefully arched bridge. Most people do. They look so elegant. They render Singapore, Sydney and even the Severn estuary unspeakably lovely.
And the scale can be humble. The cobbled footpaths over the Dutch channels are among the nation’s comeliest features. Take a few minutes to watch a video on the new jogging area beside the Brisbane River in Australia, which is replete with them. It’s phenomenal. We could do that here.
So, where?
St Helier is always the default. But one design expert, who argues for the beautification of modern cities, points out that the worst thing planners do is to make public spaces unipolar.
A unipolar space has one interesting bit only, generally in the middle, where we keep our cathedrals, squares, shopping, and everything of visual interest. This is then surrounded by an ever-expanding wasteland of nothing but beds-in-boxes.
Instead, he says, the most beautiful cities are multipolar. Multipolar cities have “interesting bits” in different areas.
The principle is to take the most beautiful part of your city, and duplicate it many times over, in cells. We use the word “duplicate” loosely. It’s not the same as “replicate”. Each cell can and should have its own character. Done right, there is more than just one place to go.
Have we been taking a unipolar approach with Jersey? All new things in St Helier, no new things anywhere else?
Instead, what if we erected something interesting in a different locale, say, facing our prospective customers on that big chunk of land called Europe, off to the right?
Imagine building something gorgeous and enticing near Gorey, using land reclamation for minimal disruption, in order to add a whole new “centre of interest” to a different spot?
It’s quite the mindset adjustment, I know. But tell me that tourists wouldn’t more than cover the cost, if that side of the Island, visible from France, had its own sea-adjacent theatres, Ferris wheel, high-end restaurants and museums?
Add the capacity to stroll out to sea and walk back and forth over our new waterways on charming little bridges… wouldn’t they come flocking?
And the cost?
Let international entrepreneurs pick up the bill. We have a bad habit of assuming government should pay. Instead, best proposal for an exciting new waterfront project wins. Specifically, they win the right to build it, then pay tax.
Chuck in connectivity to France while they’re at it, either over a gracefully curving above-water highway, or below, by tunnel, as proposed by our friends from the Faroe Islands, and they could radically elevate the vibrancy of the Island. Tourism could double.
I’m somewhat amazed that connectivity did not become the highest priority for Jersey after the Second World War. As I understand it, this island nearly starved to death waiting for supplies to arrive. In the wake of that, how is it possible that no one in authority conducted a basic SWAT analysis and said, “That cannot be permitted to happen again?” Do we assume that there will never be another such threat?
Here is a second option for waterways in Jersey. You could do it in the Fort.
It’s exciting to see plans for the rejuvenation of that space. What if the team considered a design cue from my native South Africa?
There’s a building in Johannesburg called Montecasino. Now, please, don’t let the casino part derail the conversation. The facility also boasts theatres big enough to host full-scale Disney productions, four- and five-star restaurants, a multiplex cinema, and arcades and games areas for kids. It is similar to our Fort, both in its proportions, and in its intent.
The designers went with a Venetian-style interior, which was immensely popular from day one. Beneath a domed ceiling that looks convincingly like a clouded sky, there are riverbeds running all through the facility. They flank the pedestrian paths, with occasional small bridges crossing back and forth. The effect is lovely.
Adding water adds charm. It’s a natural theme for an island. What if we did it consciously, and not just in one place? Imagine if we took to heart the idea of unipolar beauty, and added elements of interest in different locales?
No need to destroy anything that makes our island what it is. There is ample acreage all around it, waiting to be reclaimed. We’ve done it before. Why not do it again?
Douglas Kruger is an author and speaker who lives in St Helier. His books are all available via Amazon and Audible.
