03 May 2017

Bath Bridges: 2. Victoria Bridge


This is the second of three interesting bridges that I visited in Bath. As with Pulteney Bridge, the Victoria Bridge is also very much a heritage site, the oldest surviving bridge by brewer-turned-bridge-builder James Dredge, and a highly unusual design.

I've previously visited the Dredge bridge in Inverness, which is a shadow of its original self, and would like to re-visit the Bridge of Oich some time so I can present it here. Dredge's designs were and are unique, according to his patented "taper principle", whereby links in the supporting chains are progressively diverted downwards to pick up the deck, so that the force and capacity of the main chains both diminish with distance from the supporting towers. In this respect, it more closely resembles a cable-stayed bridge than a suspension bridge.

When I briefly mentioned Victoria Bridge in 2012, the bridge was scheduled for substantial repair and refurbishment work, on account of its poor condition. Many of the bridge's metal elements were cracked or at risk of fatigue damage, and it was both prone to vibration and at risk of damage if subjected to severe crowd loading.

Since then, the refurbishment project has been completed, and I think all involved can be congratulated. However, the works are not without a degree of significant loss, and the line between restoration and vandalism is a fine one in this case.

You can read more about the project in two thorough and informative reports by the restoration engineers, AECOM (see Further Reading for links, below). As part of the works, a thorough evaluation of the bridge's history was undertaken by local engineer Alf Perry (who sadly died in late 2016), although I believe this is so far unpublished.

I think that more than half of the original bridge ironwork has been replaced in modern steel, although actually much of the original fabric had been replaced during a series of previous interventions. All the primary load-carrying elements in the deck appear to have been replaced. Transverse tie-bar elements below the deck appear to be largely intact, although in reality these provide little support and are now largely decorative.

The structural changes both improve the bridge's strength and also reduce unacceptable vibrations, and may be justified in terms of providing a structure with greater longevity.

The deck edge stringers are connected with fishplates, which appear riveted from the outside, but which are actually connected with dome-headed tension control bolts, often used in refurbishment work to give the appearance of rivets. I'm not sure this is justified in this instance for visual reasons, but it's a perfectly acceptable engineering solution.

Large parts of the main bridge chains have been retained, but large parts have been replaced in steel. The detail at the lower ends of the inclined chain hangers is unfortunate, with the flats of the hanger links welded onto threaded rods, and some very modern turnbuckles used on the back-tie elements. Perhaps these were unavoidable, but I thought they looked inappropriate.

By far the most significant alteration to the bridge is that the hanger pattern has been substantially changed, as can be seen by looking at any images of the bridge from before its refurbishment. As built, the structure had an arrangement which had not survived on any other Dredge bridges. Where the hangers diverge from the main chain, at each chain node there were two hangers connecting to two separate deck nodes, creating a series of triangles. On later Dredge bridges, the twin hangers connected to the same deck nodes, creating a series of parallelograms. The reconstructed bridge now adopts the later Dredge design.

I don't know how contentious this change was when design proposals were presented to the local authority and to English Heritage. The engineering justification is straightforward: the original arrangement led to alternating compression and tension in each hanger, resulting in slack hangers and significant stress ranges in the metalwork, which presumably contributed over time to significant fatigue damage. In the new arrangement, nearly all the hangers remain in tension under all loads, greatly reducing the risk of further damage, and also introducing redundancy at each deck node (now supported by two hangers rather than one). However, it seems an enormous shame to have eliminated the bridge's one most unique feature.

The updated bridge now incorporates lighting in the parapet handrail (on one edge only), and seems likely to be well-set for a considerably extended lifespan.

I was able to perceive vibration in the bridge deck, but not at an unacceptable level. Pleasingly, the low headroom at the north end of the bridge over the river towpath has been tolerated without the addition of bumble-bee markings, although the transverse ties are at a level which could easily be struck by taller pedestrians.

Notwithstanding various misgivings, the refurbishment of Victoria Bridge is an impressive accomplishment, and one that those involved should be very proud of.







  




Further reading:

01 May 2017

Bath Bridges: 1. Pulteney Bridge

I spent some time in Bath recently to attend an IABSE conference on the subject of "creativity and collaboration". It was a very enjoyable conference, with plenty of material relevant to bridge designers, but I doubt I'll have time to capture any details here.

However, I did get time to visit three of the city's most significant bridges, which I'll feature across my next three posts.

First up is probably Bath's best known bridge, the Pulteney Bridge. This is one of very few historic inhabited bridges still existing in the UK, although at one time there were many, with fine examples in London, York, Durham and Newcastle, to pick just four.

The survivors include the High Bridge in Lincoln, a somewhat unprepossessing structure in Frome, and the well-known house on a bridge at Ambleside.



Approached from the south, Pulteney Bridge is an impressive structure, its three arches sitting astride the River Avon, a splendid backdrop to the crescent-shaped river weir. When first built, it connected the city of Bath to the Parish of Bathwick, an estate owned by the Pulteney family since 1726. In 1769, William Pulteney advanced plans to replace the existing Bathwick ferry with a permanent toll-free bridge, petitioning for the first of two Acts of Parliament.

The initial plan for a three-arch masonry bridge was prepared by Thomas Paty. This did not include the rows of shops which are now the bridge's most notable feature. Robert and James Adam became involved in the project in 1770, and progressed on the basis of an inhabited bridge, a concept which at the time may have been considered a relic of the past, with the well-known British examples being mediaeval in origin. Indeed, Bath Corporation objected to the proposal: "It has been for some years past an uniform practice throughout the Kingdom to avoid and condemn incumbrances of this kind".

Robert Adam's proposals owed much to an unused proposal by Palladio for the Rialto site in Venice, although more practical and less extravagant. Adam designed an entirely symmetrical structure, supporting twenty-two shops, each with an attic and some with cellars hidden within the arch spandrels (the circular cellar windows are a highly visible feature). The bridge was completed in late 1773, at a construction cost of £8,183.

Significant changes to the bridge were made in 1792-1794, to a design by Thomas Baldwin, increasing the height of the shops, knocking some shops spaces together, adding second storey windows and making other alterations. Author Eric de Maré commented on the result of this and other works that "the original house part has unfortunately been pathetically travestied by alterations".

In 1799 and in 1800, flooding cause severe damage to one of the arch piers, resulting in several of the shops being demolished. A design by Thomas Telford for replacement with a single-span cast-iron arch bridge came to nothing, and instead the north elevation of the bridge was rebuilt to plans by John Pinch, which echoed but did not precisely match Adam's design. The difference is readily visible on the road elevations.

Although the bridge was not damaged by flooding again, the rows of shops saw significant alterations during the course of the 19th century. Cantilevered structures began to appear on the external facades of the bridge, like isolated barnacles on the southern face and eventually encrusting the whole of the north face. These provided additional space for shop tenants, and echo the cantilevered structures which still adorn Italy's Ponte Vecchio, and which were common on other inhabited bridges in the middle ages. They seem to be a popular idea in Bath: I spotted them on other buildings elsewhere in the town.

Today, the entire north façade remains cantilevered, its appearance having been largely fixed since the 1870s.

Further alterations were made to the bridge in the early 1900s, with the west end of the southern row of shops being demolished and reconstructed, so that the end pavilion now sits above the arch rather than above the abutment. I doubt that many visitors spot the loss of symmetry, although Robert Adam undoubtedly would.

More recent changes have been with a conservation and restoration ethic, removing the "blisters" from the southern façade and between 1938 to 1951 reinstating parts of the elevations (with work interrupted by war). Further changes to the shopfronts were made in 1975 with a view to more closely matching the original designs.

What I find most interesting about Pulteney Bridge is the contrast and tension between the perfection of form sought by its original designer, and the loss of integrity of the original design over time. I like the extent to which this humanises the bridge; after all, we all acquire an accretion of defects, blemishes and a loss of symmetry as we age. The restorationists may not have got their hands on the jumbled north elevation yet, but clearly would like to gradually obliterate each departure from the original concept as time and funds permit. My guide here owes more to the ideas of Stewart Brand in his excellent book "How Buildings Learn" - that a successful building is one which can adapt to use.

I think the main failing of the original design is commercial - the desire to maximise income by lining every inch of each edge of the bridge with shop units. Compare the Rialto Bridge in Venice, where there are gaps in the retail arcades at the crown, and also walkways outside the shops, so that bridge users can enjoy the river more directly. Even the heavily-built Ponte Vecchio has openings from which the river can be viewed. It would be interesting to see the different reactions which would arise if it were proposed to open up any of Pulteney Bridge's retail units as public space, so that road users can also view the river.

The bridge also makes me wonder about how a modern inhabited bridge could be designed. A criticism often expressed whenever such a thing is now proposed is of the extent to which it inevitably blocks views up and downstream. The proximity of tall buildings to the riverside edge is such that Pulteney Bridge is less guilty of this than it might otherwise be. The question also arises as to how an inhabited bridge can be designed to be adaptable, with the design life of retail units being significantly shorter than the design life of the supporting bridge. Symmetry is much-prized in design, but a bridge which starts life with asymmetrical blisters and blemishes would be an interesting concept.

Further reading:

28 April 2017

Folly's end

So ... it was the Pontist wot won it*. Just a mere 5 days after I extensively documented the Garden Bridge's multitude of failings, London's Mayor Sadiq Khan has pulled the plug on his financial support for the scheme, almost certainly killing the project.
It's great that someone finally grew some balls and did what was necessary, but it's a scandal that it took so long and that £46m of public money had to be wasted first.

The Garden Bridge Trust has said little in response, but without government support, I anticipate that further private funders will withdraw their commitments, and the Trust will rapidly have to declare a halt to its activities in order to be able to meet its existing obligations to creditors. Without the mayor's financial guarantees, the Trust cannot start work on site as it cannot discharge a key planning condition.

Opinion on Twitter seems split about 90% against the bridge, and 10% in favour, with most celebrating the demise of this ignominious project (I guess not all my readers will have spotted that the Pontist is on Twitter now as well).

The death blow to the project came with Margaret Hodge's damning report released three weeks ago, but much of what Hodge said was only possible because of the investigations by Will Hurst at the Architects' Journal, who deserves some kind of award for his persistence in uncovering many of the saga's most sordid details.

There was an interview with Hurst on LBC Radio today, and students of this story should definitely listen to the interview and read the LBC's thorough report, both of which give a very clear idea of quite why the whole Garden Bridge stinks so highly.

The bridge's "demented enemies" (to use Boris Johnson's typically colourful phrase) will now turn their attention to seeing whether those responsible for this colossal failure can be punished or at least humiliated. Some are calling for public funds to be repaid, but there is no chance whatsoever of that happening.

So far as I can see, the project's key protagonists (Johnson, Lumley, Heatherwick) have yet to say their piece, but I don't think they will do anything other than blame the malice of the bridge's opponents for its failure. It will be interesting to watch the accusations and counter-accusations over the next few weeks, but I'll be surprised if anything more comes of it than that.

One folly may be at an end, but the folly that led to it will continue to resurface on projects of this ilk, those that are only kept afloat by delusions of grandeur and by their ability to skirt proper scrutiny.

*(for non-UK readers, see here, and I'm only joking).

23 April 2017

Has the irresistible force finally met the immovable object?

As the Garden Bridge saga appears to be drawing to an ignominious conclusion, it's a good time to ask how much this sorry tale owes to simple incompetence and how much to a more flagrant disregard of consequence.

It's a good time because Margaret Hodge’s recent report into the project lays bare many of its failings.

Hodge's report is incisive and damning. The Garden Bridge Trust's response to it is feeble-minded and exemplifies the wilful deafness to criticism which has marched the entire project into a mire of failure.

Hodge has, probably sensibly, avoided any consideration of whether the world's most expensive flowerpots would be a "good thing", although there is much to criticise here.

In principle, the idea of a garden above the Thames has some merit, but it must be offset against its adverse impacts. Published views of the bridge usually adopt a pigeon's perspective, disguising the extent to which this massive structure would blot out views across and along the river. I also think that we should all have had enough of privatised public spaces subsidised with public money, and like other heavily-surveilled areas of "public" realm, it is difficult to see the case for taxpayers funding a new garden so hemmed about with constraints on use as this one is.

If it doesn't properly consider value, the Hodge report does at least consider value for money. When the project's designers were appointed in mid-2013, the bridge was estimated to cost £60m, more than double the cost of any previous or projected footbridge elsewhere on the Thames in London. At this stage, the fee for the lead designers was anticipate to be £4m (roughly 7% of capital cost, already a very high figure for a team who would not actually deliver the detailed design).

Just one year later in June 2014, the total cost had mushroomed to some £159m. By July 2015, the sum had hit £175m, then £185m in August 2016. The Garden Bridge Trust has more recently confirmed the likely final figure to "substantially exceed" that figure, with a sum "north of £200m" reported to Margaret Hodge during the preparation of her report. And yet, the project has rolled steadily onwards, with some £46m now spent or committed without a spade so much as hovering over the ground (indeed, the detailed design of the bridge is not yet complete). This is a steam-roller set in motion but seemingly without anyone sitting in the driving seat.

Cost escalation can arise for many reasons, but chief amongst them on projects of this sort is simply that initial estimates were wrong. Scope and risks are not understood properly at an early stage, project promoters are biased towards optimism, and we are all reliant on a QS industry which isn't fit-for-purpose. There are few meaningful benchmarks for iconic projects so it's not a disgrace that the initial estimate was wrong. It is, however, a disgrace that the project was not stopped when its true costs began to emerge, and it remains a disgrace that nobody involved has the balls to stop it now as costs continue to rise.

At the same time as costs have risen, funding available has actually decreased. Although the government funding bodies have meekly handed over yet more cash every time their funding ceiling has been breached, the private funders on whom the project ultimately relies have been backing off. In spring 2015, donors had pledged £85m towards the scheme; by August 2016, the total pledge had dropped to £69m and has not increased since.

We are witnessing the collision of an irresistible force with an immovable object. The force originates in the vanity and ego of the project's promoters, principally the much-lampooned Boris Johnson. This was facilitated by a cultural failing, an uncritical adulation of celebrities (in this case, Joanna Lumley and Thomas Heatherwick) which diminishes what few critical faculties our public bodies can bring to bear at the best of times. Once the beast has been set in motion, it is simply "face" that continues to propel it forwards, the false hope that eventual project success will vindicate the troubled journey. We've also seen, writ horribly large, the sunk cost fallacy, with several of the project's fans noting that so much money has been spent, it would simply be wasted if the project were now to cease.

It seems overwhelmingly likely that it will now be wasted: £46m of public money pissed into the Thames without any of those responsible having to suffer the just consequences of their monumental failure.

The seemingly irresistible force is hitting its immovable object: the money simply isn't there. The government and current mayor have hedged their bets even as the costs continue to mount, readying their excuses for abandoning this sinking ship.

Sometimes when costs escalate, they can be tolerated on the grounds of the project's final value, an economist's totting up of the public benefit. That has been attempted here, with a business case thrown together in May 2014 after the project was already well underway, with design team appointed, costs rising, and up to £60m of public funding already announced. Hodge rubbishes the business case, which had already been found to be questionable and weak by central government.

One of the most damning aspects of Hodge's report is her criticism of the appointment of the project design team. I think this is symptomatic of a much wider failure of accountability and effective project control, exemplified by the lack of a properly motivated driver at the controls of the steam-roller, anyone who would feel it in their own pocket when things went wrong.

Hodge records that in March 2013 Heatherwick Studio was appointed to design the bridge, having won a quickly concocted procurement exercise against Marks Barfield and Wilkinson Eyre. This particular farrago has been dissected elsewhere, so I'll just summarise the key points. The three competitors were invited to bid for a "feasibility study", despite the fact that Heatherwick had been discussing the project with the London Mayor since July 2012, and seems to have already had a giant flower-point design stuffed down a back-pocket.

Hodge's report documents in detail what a farce this procurement exercise was, with several iterations of a briefing document showing how Heatherwick's key role was openly acknowledged then gradually cut out to ensure that a "neutral" procurement document could be presented to others.

I'll take the position that the evaluation of the tenders was utterly incompetent, but frankly it stinks of worse, and clients are normally careful to avoid such an impression. Heatherwick Studio scored above the other contenders both on "relevant design experience" and "understanding of the brief". On the first point it seems inarguable that Heatherwick actually demonstrated the weakest relevant experience to conducting a footbridge feasibility study. The commercial evaluation was even more of a joke, with Heatherwick's proposed fee of £173,000 dwarfing the other two proposals (£49,939 and £15,125). The client team sought clarification from Heatherwick, who then significantly reduced their fee, allowing them to win the work.

Heatherwick have been paid over £2.6m for their work on the project, which may sound like a lot of money, but will sound like a lot more if it turns out to be for something that is never built.

The appointment of the project's engineer and project manager seems to have been little better. Thirteen consultancies bid for this role, with Arup winning in July 2013. Arup had already been working with Heatherwick Studio, but they were placed only 7th in the initial tender evaluation due to the level of their fee. Despite this, they were included among 5 bidders shortlisted for further consideration. Of those, Arup were the only bidder contacted specifically and asked to revise their charges, which they did before then being appointed.

Elsewhere in Hodge's report, she notes that the key official most most directly responsible for both procurement decisions had come from Arup to Transport for London, and subsequently returned to Arup in 2016.

As of April 2015, Arup had been paid £8.4m for their work, and I would not be surprised if the total has now reached eight figures. There must have been some interesting discussions about "change control" given that the original funding authorised to commence design (for both architect and engineer combined) was only £4m. The £8.4m fee is only about 4% of the latest forecast capital cost, which might seem reasonable given that the detailed design is being done by others (as part of the design-and-build contract), but it's still a struggle to imagine quite what all that money was spent on.

There is much more of interest in Margaret Hodge’s report, and I recommend it to anyone interested in how grand and foolish projects of this type are procured. It should certainly be required reading for anyone with direct responsibility for procurement or project management of schemes which are iconic, vanity-driven or otherwise dubious in real merit.

If the current Mayor of London decides to proceed further with the Garden Bridge, then he is clearly a fool, and he will join the long list of those associated with the scheme who will have stood watch while costs continue to escalate. If as, seems more likely, he decides it is time to throw in the towel and cease providing financial support, an almighty mess can be expected to ensue.

Without financial support from Transport for London, the Garden Bridge Trust, which is already barely a going concern, cannot continue. TfL and the Department for Transport have already under-written the Trust’s cancellation liabilities, but these are capped and I suspect will not be resolved cleanly. There has been a contractor appointed since March 2016 (Bouygues), who in turn have a designer and who are presumably not carrying any of the risk of project cancellation. They will wish to be paid in full for all their costs incurred.

Much of TfL's funding for the project is in the form of a loan to the Garden Bridge Trust, which would be written off. All this would form part of the estimated £46m of taxpayers' funding which will never be recovered.

The blame game that will commence will then form the real interest. Teflon-shouldered Boris, and the ever-defensive coterie of Garden Bridge zealots, will blame the project's failure on the naysayers and the (sadly accurate) prophets of doom, and will never accept or acknowledge their own role in this all-too-avoidable fiasco. The many individuals whose incompetence and cowardice enabled it all to happen are likely to get off scot-free.

If history can tell us anything, it is that flagrant malfeasance shall have no consequences, and that lessons will be stated clearly but not learned. I'm reminded, inevitably, of Sunderland’s River Wear Crossing fiasco, with its overly-ambitious iconic design, the deafness of all involved to external criticism, and the millions of pounds pointlessly wasted. Those responsible in that case also suffered no consequence.

Readers may also fondly recall Glasgow's Broomielaw to Tradeston footbridge, where the promoter again ploughed on despite expert criticism, before eventually being forced to abandon increasingly expensive plans. I discussed the invulnerability of the Garden Bridge's ambitious yet deluded proponents to reasonable criticism in a previous post.

The culture of impunity enjoyed by the celebrity-addled nincompoops who are appointed to, supposedly, spend our money wisely, seems unlikely to change any time soon. They will not even feel the shame that they so clearly ought to, the loss of face is too much to contemplate.

I would hope, however, that the various professions and professionals involved in this and other similarly sorry stories might pause to consider the ethics of our own positions.

Can we simply say that it is the fault of the farmer for providing us with an over-sized trough from which to guzzle? Are we right to say that decisions on what to spend and how to spend it are for the promoters and politicians, and we will simply close our eyes and hold our noses and follow their bidding? Are we also too eager to be blinded by glamour and the excitement of association?

More positively, what are we doing to assist our clients and the wider public to understand our project risks, to understand the primacy of project value, and to help them with better evidence so that they can make better decisions, ideally before the steam-roller is ever put into gear?

Previous posts
Garden Bridge proposed in London
£4m to design white elephant
Heatherwick's Garden Bridge gains planning consent from Lambeth Council
London's Garden Bridge: grumbling rumbles on, but here's a wrinkle
London's Garden Bridge: to build, or not to build?

31 March 2017

The Great White Hoop: Five years of the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge

Here's an interesting article on a Calatrava bridge in Dallas, Texas. I don't like the bridge, but the piece offers an interesting perspective on the limitations of building such a monumental structure without any real regard to its context. I'm mainly sharing the link, however, because there are some excellent photos at the end of the article.

http://www.dallasnews.com/news/news/2017/03/24/great-white-hoop-five-years-margaret-hunt-hill-bridge

19 March 2017

"The Ha'penny Bridge, Dublin" by Michael English

In a recent post, I reviewed Annette Black and Michael Barry's "Bridges of Dublin", a survey of the many bridges spanning the River Liffey in Ireland's capital city. This time, I've been reading a rather more singular volume.

"The Ha'penny Bridge, Dublin" (Dublin City Council / Four Courts Press, 272pp, 2016) [amazon.co.uk] documents only one of Dublin's bridges, although certainly the best known.

Built in 1816, the Ha'penny Bridge (named for its toll) was the first iron bridge in Ireland. It was designed and fabricated by the Coalbrookdale foundry in Shropshire, the same as had built the pioneering Iron Bridge in 1779. The new crossing replaced an existing ferry, and was promoted by the ferry proprietors William Walsh and John Claudius Beresford as a private initiative.

The bridge has survived two centuries of often eventful Irish history, and this book wisely takes a very open-ended approach to documenting its subject.

The author, Michael English, is a graphic designer and photographer, and the book is beautifully presented and laid out throughout. It is filled with depictions of the bridge in art and photography, both historical and contemporary, and many of the excellent photographs are the author's. There are pictures of souvenirs, bridge poems, anecdotes, a plethora of directly and indirectly relevant material. In this respect it is a truly exemplary publication: any bridge would be proud to be recorded in this manner.

Different authors contribute different chapters to the book. The text drives onto, across, beneath and away from the bridge; treating it as a vantage point to explore the bridge, its surroundings, and its context from many angles.

David de Haan offers a history of Coalbrookdale, source of Englands' best known iron bridge, and of the cast iron shipped to Dublin. This explains everything from the iron smelting process to the broader industrial transformation which allowed iron to challenge stone for economy. Gerard Smyth recounts the main points of the bridge's history, while Logan Sisley describes the the fortunately ill-fated 1913 plan to replace the bridge with the Hugh Lane Gallery.

Michael English recounts the history of some of the people who passed beneath the bridge most often: the Guinness company, whose barges transported Guinness stout below the bridge for many years. Annette Black offers a more cultural history of the bridge, probably my favourite chapter. It's a history of the bridge, but also a history of Dublin with the bridge as merely a convenient nexus. For me, this gets under the skin both of the bridge and the city: the bridge is not a monument, or an icon, but a site which features in people's everyday lives, a home to the homeless as much as a crossing for others.

I was a little disappointed in Michael Barry's chapter describing the bridge's 1998-2001 refurbishment and restoration. There are a few extracts from drawings and one engineering diagram, but I felt there was just too little detail on what appears to have been a very sensitive and carefully-considered project.

The penultimate chapter, by architect Seán Harrington, describes his design of Dublin's Millennium Bridge, now one of the main places from which to view the Ha'penny Bridge, and a structure where the various differences and similarities are constructive. The final chapter consists of Michael English's photographs of the bridge taken at different times of day and different periods in the year. These are excellent, well portraying way in which such a simple structure can appear so very different as hours and seasons pass.

Although the book is extensive in its coverage, one area where it is lacking is in any discussion of the Ha'penny Bridge's siblings. The distinctive form of its cast iron ribs, with two layers of quadrilateral braced ribs (like the more modern Vierendeel girder), was not new in 1816, indeed the appearance of the bridge was essentially a copy of Thomas Telford and Thomas Stanton's Meole Brace bridge, completed in Shropshire in 1811 and supplied by William Hazledine. The same or very similar design was used again in 1813 for the Cantlop Bridge, and then repeated after completion of the Ha'penny Bridge, in 1818 for the Cound Bridge (now reconstructed in Telford) and in 1823 at Stokesay. If you look at close-up images of Cantlop Bridge, the relationship is very clear.

Overall, however, this is an excellent book, highly relevant to anyone with an interest in Dublin or in bridges, particularly the role that they play in urban history. As already noted, it's a very attractive book, exceptionally well-illustrated, and a great example of what can be produced by people who allow their passion for a subject to drive what they do.

14 March 2017

Winner announced in Upper Orwell Crossings competition


The winner of Suffolk County Council's competition to choose an architect for two new bridges across the Upper Orwell has been announced as Foster and Partners.

I discussed this RIBA-organised contest at length last August, and again in September. You may recall that this is not a conventional bridge design competition: it's quite possible that the winner's designs will never get built. It was a contest to select an architect to partner the project's engineering consultant, WSP | Parsons Brinckerhoff, who had already been selected.

There was much to criticise in how the contest was initially set up: its limitation to large firms (overturned after protests), the desire for an arranged marriage rather than allowing natural design partnerships to form, and the intention for architects to demonstrate their worth in isolation i.e. without actually working with the project's engineer. Of the various shortlisted firms, several either had internal engineering expertise anyway or brought along their own choice of partner.

As originally promoted, entrants had to submit two entries for both bridges required, and would be evaluated 40% on price. I wonder whether these criteria survived, as only one design has been released from the winner, and they do not have the reputation of charging at the bottom of the scale. Alternatively, maybe they were the cheapest, and the design presented was only second best. I think we may never know.

It's difficult to comment in detail on what can be seen of the winning design. Without drawings or context, they say little. However, a few things are clear.

The competition jury appears to have treated this like a conventional contest: they praise the "economical elegance" of the designs, and comment specifically on how pedestrian routes have been integrated with the highway bridges. On both bridges, the walkway / cycleway is a separate structure tacked onto the main bridge, although not gratuitously, instead allowing the designer to consider what is best for different flow preferences.

The high-level bridge is the more exotic of the two, reminding me of a treetop walkway, with the non-motorised path nestled at the top of giant steel tree-trunks and below the fumes of the highway canopy. It has an expensive rather than structurally rational appearance, and in this regard it's interesting to read what local MP Ben Gummer has to say:
"The fact that we will have what will be a globally recognised bridge of beauty will say something powerful about our town's ambition and our place not just in our county, or our region, or our country, but in the world."
At the risk of offending locals, this is Ipswich, not Paris or Geneva. It's hard not to wonder how well a forced marriage between the incumbent consultant and a big-name architect will work. Ambition should not be scoffed at, but I do wonder whether Ipswich really needs something world-class, or whether they would have been better to set their sights a little lower.

The RIBA Competitions office has a track record of limited success (6 out 8 competition-winning bridges were never built), so it will also be interesting to see whether the Upper Orwell Crossings project bucks that particular trend.