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The Sheffield Urban Study of 1998-2000 started with a consensus among
the staff at the School of Architecture that the context of buildings
is important, and that every designer of a new one should know the
history of the site where it is to be built. This should help an
understanding of how the place was formed and what it means, whatever
use is made of such information subsequently in the design. We were
also concerned with the more general questions of what constitutes a
city, how cities might work today, and how buildings might (or might
not) be integrated within them. Again, the current situation is only
comprehensible with some understanding of the past, with an idea of
how a city grew and how its past states contrast with how it is today.
To understand an urban context more is needed than a peremptory glance
at some old maps, but practising architects seldom have time for deep
and extensive research, and many are ill-equipped to do it.
Architectural students in the fifth year of their course, on the
other hand, have at least the time if not all the skill, and where
their skill is lacking it can be developed as part of their training.
On one level this is a question of developing perception and
understanding, of knowing what to look for and how to look, but
it is also a question of learning how to use maps and archives,
and of getting familiar with the kinds of things that can be found
in them.
How does one study a city systematically? We decided to try to base
our work around a physical model of the whole central area of
Sheffield as it was in 1900. This date finds the city at its
industrial height and the peak of its wealth, before the depredations
of war, redevelopment, and the collapse of heavy industry. The date is
late enough for accurate maps and photography, yet early enough to show
many original features missing today. When we undertook the study, it
marked the passage of a century, coinciding pertinently with the
millennium. Ninety five students took part in the first part of
the study over a period of four weeks, and we divided them into
groups of four or five. A consequent division of the work was needed,
so we imposed on the plan of the city a north/south and east/west
grid. A one in four subdivision of the current Ordnance Survey
grid produced 20 squares with a side-length of 200 metres on the
ground. At a scale of 1:500 this gives a piece of model 40
cm2,
and a whole model of the city centre 2.0 metres by 1.6. The scale
of 1:500 is just large enough to show the forms of individual
buildings and even chimneys, but without in most cases including
such details as door and window openings. Co-tutors Alan Williams
and Jo Lintonbon, then involved in
PhD studies of Sheffield, constructed investigative prototypes to
test the scale and to establish co-ordinated modelling methods.
They also deduced the contour information from modern maps, so
that the layered base of each grid-square could be prepared
before the streets and buildings were imposed. The grey model
of contours alone was temporarily assembled at an intermediate
stage in the model's development to check for inconsistencies.
It was also necessary for groups to collaborate where grid-lines
passed through buildings, but the difficulty of accurate matching
between one grid-square and the next was mitigated by leaving a
gap of 10 mm.
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The initial sources of information for the model were the Ordnance Survey
Maps of 1897 and 1903. The use of two editions immediately highlights
the problem of a changing situation, for even if there had been a map
published in 1900 it would have been out of date, having taken a year
or more to prepare. Inevitably there were places that were cleared sites
in 1900, and there were buildings under construction: one of our model
squares actually shows one of them scaffolded. Groups with sites in
transition soon found out about them, and were usually able to establish
from records what was present in 1900. Things that had existed for a
number of years before or after the date were usually recorded in some
way, but more temporary things proved elusive. The impressive octagon
marked on the map as Sanger's Circus, for example, yielded little,
and seems to have been extremely short-lived.
Some buildings present in 1900 are of course there still and could
be photographed or surveyed in place, but the extent of survival
varied greatly from one grid-square to the next. Some parts of
the city had remained relatively stable, but others - notably
sites of industry, slum housing and post-war ring-road development -
had changed out of recognition. One group found only a single pub
still intact on their site. In dealing with such areas, careful
research was needed to establish the three-dimensional form of the
fabric, and here the collections in the City Archive and Local
Studies Centre proved essential. Ordnance Survey maps give accurate
plot outlines and ground heights, but no information on the number
of storeys or the roof-forms, while courts and light-wells are sometimes
also missing. Much valuable information could be gathered from period
photographs, but the unexpected major source was fire insurance plans.
These not only noted the number of storeys and locations of small
internal courts, but even details such as rooflights.
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The physical model was the focus of the research, but the student groups
were also asked to provide other kinds of information. They were
asked to account for the presence, shape and orientation of every
street within their square, and this meant looking at earlier maps to
trace the growth-pattern. In some cases it was relatively easy, as
for example with the substantial grid-planned layout in the south of
the city, which was designed by James Paine in 1770 and laid out
between 1788 and 1805. Plans in the archive show not only every detail
of the layout, but even the earlier field boundaries. With such
information it is possible to explain the development of nearly
everything in Sheffield since the mid 18th century, for the first reasonably
accurate map by Gosling dates from 1736. From the 1770s onward there
are detailed and well-surveyed maps made by the local firm of John
Fairbank, which are highly reliable. Much more difficult is the
earlier development, which started with the Norman Castle built on a
natural prominence between the rivers Don and Sheaf. The market
developed outside its gates and the parish church that was to become
the current cathedral stood on the hill. The river crossing at Lady's
Bridge was clearly important and the two other major roads leading to
the market place - modern Snig Hill and Fargate - obviously played a
major role. Some aspects of the town's morphology offer suggestive
hints for possible early wall lines and even a plausible medieval grid,
but the evidence is too sparse to support any definite conclusions.
The student groups were also asked systematically to chart the
uses of the buildings in 1900, and here contemporary directories
were the major source. Such data allowed a consistent series of colour
coded plans to be drawn showing uses across the city, and it was
immediately obvious that the different squares had very different
characters. Some were devoted entirely to industry or working-class
housing, but in most of the central area uses were mixed, though
in differing proportions. The area around the original markets had
by 1900 become the site for the most prominent department stores
and the densest collection of inns and hotels, while up the hill
towards the Cathedral was an area of legal and commercial offices,
and nonconformist chapels. The most memorable Georgian square in
Sheffield, Paradise Square, also lay in this area. It was built at
the edge of the city, and more sporadically than its form suggests.
We were surprised to discover that it had been the main venue for
political meetings and the site of sermons by John Wesley. Set on
the side of the hill with a central first floor balcony ideally
placed as a pulpit, it formed a natural arena.
Moving off from the market in another direction, commerce
soon gave way to industry, which even as late as 1900 was
located surprisingly close to the centre. The boundary
between the two was sometimes marked by showrooms fronting
industrial operations, notably the prominent premises of Mappin &
Webb, a firm that originated in Sheffield. Moving towards the edges, the
students discovered the less salubrious parts of the 19th century city:
the enormous shambles beside the river where animals were slaughtered, and
the knacker's yard for recycling worn-out horses, placed cheek by jowl
between saw mill and brewery. Illuminated by knowledge of all these uses,
the model conveys the impression of a dense city teeming with activity.
Spatially the city of that time was organised in a clear hierarchical
manner, with major streets giving way to minor, these leading in turn
to alleyways and back courts. The pressure for maximal land-use
conflicted with the requirement for day-lighting to produce a complex
and irregular built pattern of yards and light-wells, a use seemingly being
given to every square foot.
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In addition to the work outlined above, each student within a group
was asked to select a building from the grid-square in question and
to examine it in detail. In some cases these could be unique buildings
of declared architectural significance, such as the Cathedral and the
Cutlers' Hall, but students were equally given the option of looking at
an ordinary building as example of a type. Not only are back-to-back
houses of a particular period very standardised, but also industrial
buildings such as blast-furnaces, and workshops conditioned by
daylighting and shaft power transmission. The variety of forms of
worship can be seen in the many chapels and Sunday-schools, while
the appearance of board schools marks the (in 1900) still recent advent
of general education, rigidly divided between boys and girls on a
symmetrical plan.
The project was accompanied by lectures and discussions, and one of
the topics explored was the nature of building types, and whether they
should be classified on a formal, functional or technological basis. We
stressed that the language of building types is significant in giving a
city coherence both in terms of the repetition that establishes a type
and the contrast that differentiates it from another. A further task
for the students was to identify the equivalent of their chosen building
today, and to pinpoint its location in the modern city. With the later
expansion and loosening of density occasioned by motorised transport,
many are located in relative isolation and more towards the periphery.
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The final assembly of the model was a dramatic occasion revealing a
city none of us had ever seen before, and its riches emerged even
more strikingly as the groups presented their detailed findings in
turn. We were all struck by the way certain areas of the city had
been wholly transformed and by the extraordinary damage inflicted
by post-war road schemes. Also fascinating were the many layers of
construction serially imposed on the original site of development -
the area of the Castle - whose presence today is almost indiscernible
although some foundations remain. The grid system of working,
initially imposed to divide the work between groups, proved an
unexpectedly fruitful analytical tool. A piece of city 200 metres
square is large enough to have two or three streets and a character
of its own, yet small enough to allow a convincing grasp of the life
lived. The possibility of switching from the scale of the city as a
whole to that of the grid-square and back again allows an appreciation
both of part and whole.
Sheffield is not a beautiful city, and it is surprisingly devoid of
pre-modern monuments by nationally known architects, perhaps because
of the small scale of its early industry. The tool and cutlery
businesses for which it is known grew because of the water power
from the steep slopes of the Pennines, the fuel and ore, and the
local millstone grit which served for grindstones. The tool and
cutlery activities engendered that expertise in steel - particularly
Huntsman's crucible process - that made Sheffield world-famous, but
poor communications before the early 19th century meant that its products
had to be portable and of relatively high value. It was the steel
expertise rather than geographical factors that brought in heavy industry,
for by the mid 19th century local ore had been replaced by imported,
while water power had given way to steam. The making of large objects
such as plate feet thick for battleships could only occur after the
arrival of the railways to carry them away. Sheffield's wealth
therefore came late, but even its best display, the Town Hall of 1890-97,
is modest in relation to those of Leeds and Manchester. Cutler's Hall, a
building of great local and social significance, started at a
modest scale and proceeded back into its deep site by piecemeal
extension. It is an architectural oddity rather than an obvious
focus of pride.
If the lack of architectural masterpieces prevent Sheffield being 'worth
a visit' in Michelin Guide terms, it proved an advantage for our study,
turning attention back towards the ordinary and the typical.
This is needed, for architectural history started in connoisseurship,
with the object extracted from its context, and could only engage a
few special cases. A project such as
Pevsner's Buildings of England
would have been swamped if it tried to do more:
hence his now untenable remarks about bicycle sheds, cathedrals and
the intention of aesthetic appeal. But if one is trying to understand
the nature of places and the forms taken by society, the typical is
more telling than the exceptional, while the personal creativity of the
architect may be an irrelevance and a distraction. In 1900, in any case,
the professional title 'architect' was not yet protected, training was
in its infancy, and few buildings involved their skills. The new more
socially based view of history that has taken over in the last twenty
years would suggest an emphasis on 'society and its buildings' rather
than the individual hero's oeuvre. Sheffield, with its mixture of
commerce, administration and industry, and its rich texture of contrasting
types, lends itself well to this approach. Its relatively late growth
from a small medieval core also means that it is relatively rich in
evidence and much of its story can be reliably established.
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As an educational vehicle the Sheffield urban study project teaches students
some social and architectural history as well as how to use maps and
archives. More fundamentally, exposure to the evidence of the relationship
between social forms and architectural forms should make them more
socially conscious as designers. Although some initially regarded the
study as a distraction from the more essential activity of design,
nearly all seemed by the end to acknowledge the value of their achievement
and many were astonished by the sheer scope of ninety-five combined
contributions. Never before to our knowledge had the city been looked
at in this way, and never had the archive material been assembled in
such form. Being able to locate the positions of photographs from
Local Studies within the model, for example, gives them a fresh
significance. The generous collaboration of both the
City Archive
and the
Local Studies Library
, run respectively by Ruth Harman and Doug Hindmarsh, was essential.
Both went out of their way to offer training sessions in the use of
their material and put up with an onslaught of enquiries that
stretched their services to the limit. Anyone contemplating a similar
study elsewhere should certainly approach their local Archive early and
organise their visits carefully.
Interest from Janet Barnes, then director of the
City Museums
, resulted in an exhibition being built around our model, which took place
in the year 2000. Since then the model has been retained within the school
for reference. In addition, via AHRB funded research projects we explored
ways of recording the data electronically, and set up the
SUCoD web-site
, in order to relate the model
directly to the modern electronic survey and to make it more easily
retrievable and convertible. This threw up a number of methodological
issues, particularly questions of how to select a given part of the
information and move on to an adjacent part without the process
being too long and cumbersome. Also it became evident that the
information needed to be more precise and more definitively
categorised than our paper files, which could include, for example,
handwritten notes, photographs, tapes of interviews, photocopies of
archive material, and other such 'grey' material which defied categorisation
or remained of marginal relevance. The computer tends to force you to make
decisions: to divide and categorise, to transform your information
into standard form. Its most seductive promise is the flying visual
visit to the city at will, with the added possibility that it be
chronologically layered so that you can move in time as well as space.
This, however, requires enormous data storage and computing power, and
involves endless progamming, and can remain slow and cumbersome. More
immediately useful in our experience are some less dramatic techniques,
such as the ability to make stacks of colour-coded maps with different
sets of information and to flip at will electronically from one to
another, or the ability to make data simultaneously searchable in a
multitude of ways.
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The Model
A5 West Bar and Furnace Hill, leading up to Scotland Street.
Though of mixed commercial and residential use by this time,
this was an important early industrial area and the site of Benjamin
Huntsman's invention of the crucible process.
A5 from above.
A5 from SE.
B2 The present centre of the city with the Town Hall 1893 and St.
Paul's Church to the south of it, Fargate to north. St. Paul's is
the site of the recently reconstructed Peace Gardens.
B2 from above.
B2 from NE.
B2 from NW.
C1 Turning point in the city geometry where the grid imposed
by James Paine in the 18th century meets older fabric to north.
Although initially planned as an estate of gentlemen's houses, it was
finally built as an area of small workshops and factories with residences
attached. This part of the city was altered beyond recognition by the
imposition of Arundel Gate, the inner ring road.
C1 from above.
C1 from NW.
C4 The original market place, with the two original roads
High Street arising from the south-west, and Snig Hill departing
to the north west. The original market square had long been filled
with buildings, the main market being contained at this stage within
the market hall in the south-east corner. The tall block on the west
side of the market place is Cockaynes department store.
C4 from above.
C4 from E.
D1 Sawmill complex in the Sheaf Valley, with the river and railway
on the east side. On the west side is workers housing, with a knacker's
yard behind.
D1 from above.
D1 from NE.
D1 from SW.
D5 Lady's Bridge (south west corner) and the bend in the
river Don. The site along the south edge was once occupied by the
castle, the starting-point for Sheffield, but by this time was the
Shambles, where meat was slaughtered. The river Sheaf had largely
been covered over, but its meeting with the Don is still visible to
the south east.
D5 from above.
D5 from E.
D5 from NE.
D5 from NW.
D5 from SW.
All photos of the model are by Peter Lathey of the University of Sheffield
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