Experience Tomorrow A Glimpse into the future
Duncan Sparks
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Experience Tomorrow A Glimpse into the future
Duncan Sparks 3
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Experience Tomorrow A Glimpse into the future
Duncan Sparks 5
The following work of fiction is based upon a young man who is travelling from Portsmouth to London to visit the Festival of Britain in 1951, it is written in the narrative form of a picaresque novel. The story is written in first person as an autobiographical account, and normally depicts, the adventures of a roguish character of low social class who lives by his wits in a corrupt society, in realistic and often clever detail. The Festival of Britain was seen as an opportunity to save Britain, a war stricken land wounded by the Second World War. Post War Britain was in austerity trying to stand tall once again, the nation’s morale had been badly affected and people
looked
to
the
festival
to
reconstruct
Britain’s spirit. The festival was a celebration of Britain’s History, achievements and culture; British identity was shown and exhibited in view of the seat of power on the South Bank, and the event is fondly remembered and intensely evocative to those who were there.
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It is May bank holiday, and a small metropolis has evolved, London is glowing brightly once again. A young man not more than eighteen years of age is on the 06.47am train with his family from Portsmouth Harbour to London Waterloo. In anticipation of the day’s events Eric starts to envisage the festival.
ERIC: Gazing out of the wet carriage window, grey clouds lingering overhead, I watch as trails of rain drops stretch down the glass and distort the view of the countryside behind, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and am reminded of those long war years. They were hard and our existence has been simply that, a life not worth appreciating. ERIC: Looking down at my lap viewing a festival paper pamphlet which I clutch tightly; triggering a quickening of my pulse, I feel my heart beat faster and the anticipation and hope of what the festival might bring becomes alive, colour, spectacle and wonder; a stark contrast to the existence my family are hoping to leave behind. As I gaze back to the window and the distorted image, I look closer and peer through, searching for the brightness of London that I know is coming. 8
At 09.32am Eric and his family arrive at Waterloo Sataion; it is his first time in London and the station was so full of activity, he frantically checks a map, and they head north for the Station Gate. They then venture forward through the urban labyrinth that is presented to them; there is a sense of anticipation from bustling city dwellers.
ERIC: It is immediately apparent that there is atmosphere that pulls my eyes up into the visual motion surrounding the crowd, no longer is my neck craned over my feet kicking the dust upon the ground. The swathes of sightseers at Waterloo is electric; to the right through the sea of hats and faces I can see a wonderland, full of colour and visual energy. In between the heaving crowds we wait for an inordinate amount of time, creating a palpable anticipation of the day ahead. As soon as we enter through the turnstiles, there was a sense of space and freedom, everyone seems to be enjoying the extravagant dreamland. The sunlight glistens upon all the joyful faces and the festival is already full of activity, nevertheless the cool air from the river is enough to temper the mood. 9
ERIC: I can see the tip of the Skylon peering over the top of the Royal Festival Hall, like the horn of a unicorn revealing itself. As we meander through the site and around outskirts of the pavilion buildings we find the floating sculpture, the full majesty of this unicorn’s horn comes into view. A superior statement of intent, encapsulating the hope of a nation with its immense yet slender scale, I am able to envisage a sense of the great power held within something so gracefully poised. Crowds are drawn as if magnetically to the base of the audacious structure, people queuing in turn to stand on a small brass plaque underneath it, and to look up inside from below. ERIC: The expressions on faces around me show wonder,
questioning
how
such
a
graceful
and
streamlined silver rocket could float in the air, poised defiantly to the ground on which are we stood. In looking closer, within the skin, the rational thinking behind the engineering elegance became visible, and all I could think was that the manufactured might of this enormous structure was surely a symbol articulating the future and how at this instance we were experiencing tomorrow. 10
Nearby a notice board gives a description of the floating sculpture, an eccentric piece explains origins of the name Skylon.
”The Skylon was thought up by Mrs. Sheppard Fidler. By combining the suggestions of Pylon, Sky and Nylon (a new material in 1951), it was wonderfully descriptive name”.
After Eric and his family had marvelled at the Skylon they proceeded to explore the festival further, across the site Eric is presented with a scripted journey through the South Bank exhibition denoted by a dotted red arrow labelled ‘Recommended Circulation’. With the choice of upstream and downstream pavilions, they headed for the ‘The Lion and the Unicorn’ pavilion.
ERIC: I then travelled to a certain a hidden gem, the characterised exhibition of the Lion and the Unicorn, this was a wonderfully peculiar event. Within the exhibition the curators produced a
theatrical
dichotomy
when
representing
our
national identity; with the physically powerful lion symbolising courage and strength. 11
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ERIC: The unicorn on the other hand was more of a whimsical character displaying eccentricity and hope. Along with other magical pavilions such as Dunkirk and the Blitz, or Power and Production the festival held a great variety of displays which were all in high spirits. ERIC: Walking along the irregular landscape of the festival, had a certain appeal, a kinetic relationship between displays and visitors, the site was intimately planned, like rooms opening out onto one another. By creating such spaces I would pass through different portals, which would be sporadically broken through the playful interjection of such bizarre materials as chicken wire and asbestos to form energetic sculptures. Such novelty and ingenuity was employed throughout the festival, and these figures would play out British identity also
through
displaying
realism
and
independence
strength and
whilst
imagination.
It appeared that everyone felt the stirring of new hope, all the buildings were touched with a magical inspiration, all the exhibits were alive with innovation and creativity. 20
Many of the exhibits were full of life and colour; they were light hearted too, which created such an environment even the most demure people began to dance in the open air beside the Thames. Eric and his family walked along the riverbank and explored the promenade.
ERIC: Once again I can see the Skylon, a point of reference which gives an assurance to my mother, for if I ever get lost the Skylon will be the safe meeting point. Royal Festival Hall along with other architectural delights sweep across the promenade with fountains and flags, dancing and open-air restaurants. The day is moving extremely quickly and the colour and activity of the festival site gives a certain balance to the river-scape replacing the war stricken imagery of the site that once appeared in a newspaper my father read years ago. Eric and his father stopped to absorb the festival, there
always
seemed
much
incident;
fountains
played and duck bathed. Helium balloons were set off into the sky above with tickets attached for lucky passers-by, and people stopped to catch their 21
breath while watching cascading water sculptures.
ERIC: As we stopped to eat dinner, while perching on one of the many chairs scattered about the site, resting one of the many open-air cafes in the shade of a coloured umbrella. The festival is still densely crowded as the sun begins to disappear behind the dome of St. Pauls Cathedral. I start to realise that the occasion of the festival was an ephemeral one, from the moment I had stood underneath the towering Skylon, I grew in confidence exploring the fanciful festival further, all the time knowing that was a unique event. ERIC: Looking across the Thames gave magnificent views towards the Houses of Parliament, Waterloo Bridge and St Paul’s; London’s illustrious skyline was finally in full view. I would notice different aspects of those buildings as my line of sight constantly altered with teasing changes in levels along the concourse, with steps and walkways taking us up and down, to gaze over at these continually varying views was a treat. As the day draws to a close, conversations begin all 22
over the site, on the subject of the illuminations at the festival. This just a few years before blackout curtains had hung in every window, only searchlights were allowed, their giant shafts of light penetrating the sky, hunting enemy bombers. The dynamics of the scene would change once again, generating a brightly lit Shangri-La.
ERIC: As darkness falls upon us, the pavilions slowly
glow
and
illuminations
radiate
across
London, the festival coruscates with light but one daring beam of light floats above all, hundreds of feet tall, a character of triumph and belief in Britain’s future. The Skylon, lit from within and glowed like a blade of light piercing into the night sky. The design raw and industrial, even insectlike, the dramatic lighting only intensifying its skeletal quality; such ambitious thinking I had never observed before. ERIC: In the background the Dome of Discovery was lit from underneath, like the prow of a spaceship, it cuts the phosphorescent ocean that has washed London’s waterfront with an iridescence of beauty and excitement. The South Bank at night is dreamlike 23
and I am able to fashion a fantasy, whilst the aluminium shell hovers in mid-air, gesturing to the future a brave new world. From the embankment, it was possible to witness the transformation of the site as night fell, and crowds would gather at midnight just to gaze over at the floodlit dreamland on the other side of the Thames. As the night draws to a close Eric and his family, travel to the festival exit, to catch the final train back to the west country.
ERIC: As I stare in amazement at the wondrous fireworks, and marvel at the castles in the air along the Thames, half real, half fantasy. They ascend the Westminster night sky, as the Cotswold water
moves
eagerly
down
to
the
sea
mouth,
momentarily imprisoning, but never carrying away, the extravagant light that is London on the Thames.
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Images references
1. ‘Portsmouth Habour’ - Taken by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 2. 2012
‘The Journey’ - Taken by Duncan Sparks 17 October,
3. ‘Clutching Pamphlet’ - Taken by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 4. ‘At Waterloo’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.museumoflondonprints.com 14 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 5. ‘Skylon’ - Banham, Mary. A tonic to the nation : the Festival of Britain 1951. (London: Thames & Hudson, 1976) p.69 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 6. ‘Dome of Discovery’ - Conekin, Becky. The autobiography of a nation” : the 1951 Festival of Britain. (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003) p.56 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 7. ‘Looking up!’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.fulltable.com/vts/f/fbt/j.htm 14 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 8. ‘Houses of Parliament’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.google.com/maps 12 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 18 October, 2012 9. ‘Ticketed Balloons’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.fulltable.com/vts/f/fbt/r.htm 14 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 10. ‘London at Night I’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.google.com/maps 14 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 11. ‘Skylon at Night’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.ribapix.com/index.php?a=wordsearch&s=it em&key=Wczo2OiJTS1lMT04iOw==&pg=1 11 October, 2012
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12. ‘London at Night II’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.google.com/maps 14 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012 13. ‘Fireworks’ - Atkinson, Harriet. The Festival of Britain : a land and its people. (London: I.B.Tauris & Co 2012) by Duncan Sparks 15 October, 2012 14. ‘London at Night III’ - Anon, Unknown, Undated, Retrieved from www.google.com/maps 14 October, 2012 edited by Duncan Sparks 17 October, 2012
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Printed and bound in Great Britain by Remous Ltd, Milborne Port
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The following work of fiction is based upon a young man who is travelling from Portsmouth to London to visit the Festival of Britain in 1951, it is written in the narrative form of a picaresque novel. The story is written in first person as an autobiographical account, and normally depicts, the adventures of a roguish character of low social class who lives by his wits in a corrupt society, in realistic and often clever detail.
The Festival of Britain was seen as an opportunity to save Britain, a war stricken land wounded by the Second World War. Post War Britain was in austerity trying to stand tall once again, the nation’s morale had been badly affected and people looked to the festival to reconstruct Britain’s spirit. The festival was a celebration of Britain’s history, achievements and culture; British identity was shown and exhibited in view of the seat of power on the South Bank, and the event is fondly remembered and intensely evocative to those who were there.
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Duncan Sparks ©