Zine

AteP

NO 5

11/20

Animals for treatment that is ethical of people

METROCENTRE: The capitalist machine

wormhole through the spacetime of the motorised galaxy

“

I bear a heavy burden on my back, Seldom noticed by the burden itself.

My belly is shelter for those below; A space defended from regulated control.

A tapestry of messages, frozen in a moment, Yet a transient threshold for no permanent inhabitant.

I permit a journey from A to B, as well as X to Y, But I am never a destination.

My purpose is clear, but my motive is confused, interrupted.

My place is nowhere in time, but somewhere at some time.

political palimpsest free from restrict The pedestrian tunnel is as synonymous with Newcastle as the black and white stripes of its football team. The weaving network of central motorways and trunk roads developed through the postwar decades create a complex mesh of pedestrian barriers. In the state prioritization of traffic over foot, the resultant compromise is the concrete underpass, a wormhole through the spacetime of the motorised galaxy.

Vehicular movement takes precedence over pedestrian access, and the tunnel decays as the highway is maintained.

The sheltered environment of the tunnel becomes a space for the disgruntled pedestrian to leave their mark, from poignant political statement to the human equivalent of a dog spraying a tree.

space for the disgruntled pedestrian to leave their mark

tion

In this way, the tunnel acquires a politics of its own, with ad-lib policy making, the over-tagging of previous messages with new ones, and often vulgar disrespect for other’s views. Though the road above serves a simple purpose, the tunnel below is far more than a space solely to facilitate a passage through a barrier. Rather the tunnel develops into a compact political palimpsest free from restriction.

The Cow as a Commodity Fat

Skin

Bones

Hair

Chewing gum

Gelatin

Refined sugar

Hair

Candles

Flavourings

Charcoal

Air Filters

Detergents

Sheet-rock

Fertilizers

Brushes

Fabric Softener

Adhesives

Glass

Felt

Plant food

Deodorant

Medicines

Insulation

Photo film

Shaving Cream

Sweets &

Plaster

Shampoo

Cosmetics

- Confectionery

Creams & Lotions

Manure Fertilizer

Textiles

Nitrogen

Crayons

Phosphorus

Paint

Hooves/Horns Adhesives Plastics Pet food

Conditioner Lamination Wallpaper Plywood

Biodiesel Plastics Cement

Brain

Ceramics

Anti-aging cream Medicine

Chalk Explosives Fireworks Matches Fertilizer Antifreeze

Blood

Insulation

Imitation eggs

Linoleum Rubber Textiles Oils & Lubricants Medicines Waterproofing agents

Milk

Internal Organs Instrument Strings

Cake mixes Dyes and inks Adhesives

Adhesives

Tennis racket strings

Minerals

Plastics

Hormones, enzymes,

Medicines

Cosmetics

vitamins & other medical

Medicines

materials

Laboratory Research materials

“

The problem is that humans have victimized animals to such a degree that they are not even considered victims. They are not even considered at all. They are nothing; they don’t count; they don’t matter. They are commodities like TV sets and cell phones. We have actually turned animals into inantimate objects - sandwiches and shoes”

Gary Yourofsky

There was a time when the Metrocentre was a fun day out.

When I did not think twice about rows of body parts that lined the supermarket shelves. When the red glow of a butcher’s shop, did not remind me of the animals, whose flesh was for sale. There was a time, when a cow was a steak and not a mother, when a chicken came fried in a bucket and not from an animal whose throat had been slit.

There was a time when leather was clothing and not a living beings’ skin.

When milk simply came from a cow and was not for a cow.

But now this has changed, supermarkets are lined with body parts of animals who did not want to die. I look around and see a world of kind people causing pain to others. I see a world of contradictions, stoke the cat, kill the cow, pet the dog, bleed the pig.

I see through the label and adverts, that rely on our ignorance. The pictures and images depicting happy animals in sunny green fields.

The labels that try to reassure us that the body parts wrapped in plastic came from a sentient being who was slaughtered and abused with nothing but, compassion and kindness.

some birds are not meant to be caged

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE PIGEON Our relationship with humans goes back thousands of years. First signs of our co-living can be traced back to 4500BC Mesopotamia, when we first became domesticated.

Throughout history we were used as a commodity, often as a source of food, messengers or as a religious sacrifice. Soon after we became an ornamental commodity with many manor houses including dovecotes for us in their manor houses. During the I and II World War we were used for military reasons, either as messengers or spies. We did quite enjoy it, we felt like we had an important role in the society.

In the second part of the XX century we became more and more common in cities around the world, becoming an iconic view at many urban squares and plazas.

Most humans probably have at least one photo with us from their childhood! For many we became a cheap entertainment in form of racing pigeons, widely popular around the UK. In past few years there have been a shift in approach to us and many councils treat us as pests and find many ways of removing us from the urban areas, such as chemical treatments, spikes on the ledges of the buildings or adding contraceptives in our food to control the growth of our groups.

“

WAR HEROES

RACING SUPERSTARS

CITY ICONS

You have to accept the fact that sometimes you are the pigeon, and sometimes you are the statue.

Claude Chabol

CITY RATS

pigeon species In Britain there are six species of us, sharing our habitat with humans. Apart from few of us, stock doves and summer-visiting turtle dove, who prefer to live in woodlands and scrubs, we all adapted to live within the urban fabric of the British cities. We share the cities with humans, occupying spaces that they abandon or underuse, such as building ledges or unused lofts. Us, the feral pigeons, are direct descendants of the wild rock dove, domesticated by the humans through centuries. Some of us got strayed or lost on the way back to our dovecotes and had to adapt to living withing the human world of the cities

the secret

BIRDS IN

ELDON SQUARE

t life of a british pigeon

It is easy to think there was a clean break between the “before” and the “current”.

As the Powerstation came and went, so will the metrocentre, and so will its successor. As we currently look at the metrocentre in all its capitalist glory, we may consider what will be its legacy. What will be the infrastructure that will enable its future use, and can we use that to not simply design the coming itteration of the space, but instead predict it? Probably not. But an analysis into its fabric and standing in its ecology should give us some understanding of what could be, and perhaps where we as architects could lead it.

As the Powerstation came and went, so will the metrocentre, and so will its successor.

What that once was, what that is, and what that is yet to be are all visible in the landscape. It is easy to think about the Metrocentre in its context as an alien spaceship, that has landed and interrupted its environment, throwing it into ruin. This would be disingenuous however, because what is currently there to be experienced is a direct result of what was before, and that in turn is a result of what was there before that.

It is also easy to think there was a clean break between the “before” and the “current”. But this is also not true. As our current becomes the before, does not vanish in a puff of smoke, but echoes.

The road infrastructure, the lighting networks, the structural towers, the air conditioning, the bus routes, the steel structure, the many international companies inhabiting the lots. Some of these will “disappear� with the metrocentre in its inevitable demise, but some of them won’t.

This will become the legacy of the metrocentre, it echo through the space like a poltergeist declaring its former existence, but like the power station, the metalworks, and the agriculture that once haunted the area, it will fade into the collage of the fabric that frames whatever it is it becomes.