Written by Hannah. L. Hamilton, design by Luna Jezzard.
The decimation of city spirit in Dundee is nigh and it is due, at least in part, to the abandonment of individuality within the urban landscape. Think of your Belmont and Gilson Gray flats - these are essentially cereal boxes that have been assigned as spaces of residence. Every new stack of student accommodation or obnoxiously shiny office space is a harbinger of the bland upon an otherwise vibrant city. The price range is exclusionary and limiting, as well as the type of activity they encourage - residing or working. In combatting this scourge, our first line of defence is the aged, the untidy, and the otherwise ‘ugly’ aspects of a cityscape. I am talking about the graffiti, the crumbling back alleys, the quirky stone buildings with awkwardly shaped staircases and gaudy visages hanging over their doorframes. They do not maximise occupancy or productivity, but instead generate atmosphere, visible culture and, most importantly, they are affordable.
Jane Jacobs - a journalist whose work has shaped urban studies and economics as we know them - tells us that the quirks of one era’s buildings can be ‘useful aberrations’ to modern cities. A grotty relic of the 70’s such as Dundee’s own Keiller Centre might at first seem to be only an eyesore, but in truth it holds great value. The Keiller is a prime example of how old buildings incubate small businesses. A clear success story is Cake or Dice on Commercial Street, whose ideas expanded from its incubation period within the Keiller. The quirks of the Keiller, it’s labyrinthine halls and eerie shuttered shop faces, become boons to those who set up there. It allows for a wide variety of enterprises to exist in proximity to one another.
In one Keiller unit, there is a charity shop selling various curios, in another an art gallery that changes installation monthly, in the next a recreational room containing a ping pong table, in another a counter for teas and coffees to rest in. All of these provide social value aside from mainstream, financially taxing enterprises. The Keiller is a true third place - a space in which community is at the forefront of the purpose, providing people with an accessible place to be that is neither home nor work. Businesses, on the flip side, are allowed affordable space in which to grow their enterprise and ideas.
In the case of Cake or Dice, their incubation period was cut short by technical trouble after flooding. Maintenance is a concern with old buildings; upkeep must be consistent to make them safe and stable elements of the city. This issue is not one inherent to the age of a building, but rather to the neglect of the owners and the city in updating it. With the proper care and given appropriate cultural relevance, old buildings are rehabilitated and ‘filter up,’ as Jane Jacobs tells us. In doing so, we retain a diversity in the cityscape that makes it not only a more pleasant place to live, but one with the opportunity to facilitate enterprise from citizens of varying means. A healthy city needs the cross-pollination of high-yield and low-yield enterprise. If we stop trying to build anew our world and start imagining how we might repurpose it, we will find ourselves living in cities that thrive on the mingling of many lifestyles, social classes, eras, ethos, and personalities. There is a reason business parks built outside cities end up as eerie ghost towns; no imagination is spurred by an existence within a banal, monotonous environment built from one era’s intimation of what supreme efficiency looked like.
The grittiness, the filthiness, the otherwise uncoordinated aspects of a city - that is truly what denotes a place with heart and purpose. We inherit diversity, and this generates more diversity. We ought to preserve and encourage the admiration of those aspects of our history that are left before us like colourful crumbs, all proof of those who came before us, proof that the ideas being realised today, the buildings we live in, and every other aspect of modern convenience, comfort and sustenance we enjoy and live with is because of those who came before us. If an enterprise itself does not begin in an old building, you can be sure that those who conceived of it needed the ideas, opportunities, and inspiration that came from bricks laid down before their time. Interesting cities are not purpose-built but built and repurposed repeatedly. As Jacobs tells us, ‘Old buildings will still be a necessity when today’s new buildings are the old ones.’ The city, then, is not a slate wiped clean every generation or so, but a palimpsest of culture. Let us keep it that way.
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