The Future of the Bunker // The Bunker of the Future: three sessions proposed for RGS 2017

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I’ve today submitted the formal proposal for a three session bunker strand at this summer’s Royal Geographical Society annual conference (29 August – 1 September 2017, London). Once fully approved and adopted by the RGS I will publish all of the abstracts here. But in the meantime here’s the proposal summary and contribution titles:

Proposal summary

The last two decades have seen increasing public interest in, and engagements with, the abandoned remains of Second World War and Cold War era military and civil defence bunkers. Academics have been busy analysing the motives and forms of this engagement (Bennett 2011; Maus 2017) and also charting the origins and affective-material impacts of those 20th century waves of bunker-building mania (Bartolini 2015; Klinke 2015; Berger Ziauddin 2016). Such engagements and studies have tended to figure the bunker as a now-deactivated form – as a form of contemporary ruin – and as a phenomenon of the (albeit recent) past. This set of sessions seeks to supplement this scholarship by examining the bunkers’ futurity: through considering the bunker as an immanent contemporary and still-yet-to-come form of place. This concern to examine the bunkers’ futurity will be examined in two different, but complementary, ways: first by exploring the ways in which the 20th century’s bunkers are being reinterpreted and/or repurposed for the 21st century and secondly, by analysing what contemporary bunker-building looks like, and here exploring the anxieties and desires that drive it. As John Armitage (2015) has recently argued, Paul Virilio (1994) did not see bunkers as having a singular, fixed meaning or purpose and he instead saw early signs of their semantic evolution and repurposing. The assembled presentations will each consider this evolution, but will also acknowledge that the cultural foregrounding of denatured, “funky bunkers” (Strömberg 2013) is problematic both as regards how it presents (or erases) the bunker-form’s dark history or its ongoing contemporary replication. This unease will be debated in the final session, in which contributors to the recent edited collection In the Ruins of the Cold War Bunker: Materiality, Affect and Meaning Making (Rowman & Littlefield International, Luke Bennett ed. 2017) will be interrogated by John Beck.

Session overview

Session 1: The Future of the Bunker: finding new uses and new meanings for the 20th century’s abandoned bunkers

1. Xenia Vytuleva, Columbia University (architectural historian) – Rethinking the Atlantic Wall: art, death and minerology.

2. Drew Mulholland, University of Glasgow (composer) – Listening to the concrete: re-composing the Atlantic Wall and Scotland’s Nuclear Bunker

3. Michael Mulvihill, University of Newcastle (artist) – The BMEW radomes: reimagining RAF Fylingdales as as military contemporary art complex

4. Kevin Booth, English Heritage (Senior Curator, North) – Re-stocking the bunker: curating creative re-uses at York Nuclear Bunker

5. Rowena Willard-Wright, English Heritage (Senior Curator, South East) – De-bunking the bunker: managing myth and misinformation in the bunkers beneath Dover Castle

Session 2: The Bunker of the Future: how we materialise our contemporary anxieties and desires in the new bunker-building of the 21st century 

6. Luke Bennett, Sheffield Hallam University (built environment) – What do we want from our bunkers? ruins, reinvention, anxiety and power.

7. Emma Fraser, University of Manchester (sociology) – Bunker play: Possibility space and survival in the Fallout series

8. Michael Adams & Carrie Wilkinson, University of Wollongong (geography) – Bugging out and bunkering down: on the sheltering tactics of survivalists and preppers in the 21st century

9. Theo Kindynis, University of Roehampton (criminology) – Subterranean sanctuaries? secret underground spaces today.

10. Session 1 and 2 Q&A and discussion.

Session 3: In the Ruins of the Cold War Bunker: a panel discussion

John Beck, University of Westminster (english) in conversation with Luke Bennett, Sheffield Hallam University (built environment), Kevin Booth, English Heritage (curator) & Kathrine Sandys, Rose Bruford College (scenographer) about their contributions to the edited collection, In the Ruins of the Cold War Bunker: materiality, affect and meaning making (to be published July 2017, Rowman & Littlefield International).

Writing in 2011 Beck declared that the bunker was incapable of cultural recuperation, and that to attempt to do so might put us in thrall to the bunker and cause us to lose sight of its dark exceptionality. Beck also argued that bunkers engender an ambivalence which makes it very difficult to ascribe any stable meaning to them. In the Ruins is an attempt to explore Bennett’s differing interpretation that it is the bunker’s ability to foster multiple parallel, but internally coherent, forms of representation (i.e. multivalence) rather than its ambivalence that calls to be investigated. Accordingly the book explores the myriad ways, practices and logics by which these concrete structures are engaged by a wide spectrum of academics and others and given stable-seeming meanings. This ‘in conference with’ session will enable Beck to engage directly with Bennett about the book’s approach, and to debate with its authors whether the book avoids being in thrall to the bunker: and whether through its focus on multivalence (Bennett), artistic appropriation (Sandys) or heritage curation (Booth).

The panel discussion will be chaired by Nadia Bartolini, University of Exeter (geography).

 

Picture credit: WWII bunker at Cape May Point State Park, New Jersey USA from: http://www.futurenostalgia.org/index.php?showimage=218, some details here: http://www.artificialowl.net/2008/10/abandoned-cape-may-giant-concrete-ww2.html

New Uses for Old Bunkers #42 : Schadenfreude in the swanky bunker-hotel

Here’s a teaser from the final chapter of my forthcoming edited collection, In the Ruins of the Cold War Bunker: Materiality, Affect and Meaning Making…

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“Cheap holiday in other people’s misery”

Sex Pistols (1977) Holidays in the Sun

As Per Strömberg notes, abandoned bunkers have become a ‘cultural playground’ (2013, 67), repurposed via the ‘well-established art practice of borrowing or stealing, making new uses for and changing the meaning of objects, images and artefacts of a culture’ (2013, 67),  and these interventions are usually spurred by economic agendas of re-use and re-generation (driven by a fear of what might happen if any building is left unused: Bennett 2017), thus (so the logic goes) ‘the cultural alchemy of appropriation turns the materiality of bare concrete walls into new economic value’ (Strömberg 2013, 78).

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Strömberg (2013) provides a striking example of a Swedish bunker refurbishment scheme that tries to reconcile economic regeneration, affective authenticity and heritage conservation. The result reveals something very strange about what we appear to what from the bunker. The scheme concerned the Swedish coastal battery fortress of Fårösund on the northern tip of Gotland. The Swedish State’s National Property Board was keen to repurpose this former military site, and to stimulate local employment to redress the job losses of military closures. Accordingly, it supported a proposal for a ‘sympathetic’ heritage-focussed luxury hotel: one where (as Strömberg 2013, 69 notes):

“you can sleep in one of the former bomb shelters furnished as fancy hotel rooms and enjoy a gourmet dinner prepared by fashionable chefs at the place where artillery pieces once were positioned to command the sea. The whole concept is adapted to a military theme. Everything is low-key in colour, scale and finishes: grey and green. Raw materials of local limestone and steel, articulated in a severe minimalism, arouse ‘post-military’ relaxation in the bunker lounge.”

Meanwhile, the perimeter of the site remains ‘authentically’ edged by rusting barbed wire and deserted defence obstacles (presenting as ‘fossils of the military era’ – Strömberg 2013, 70), all now co-opted into the themed hotel’s ‘design scenery’ (69).

This semantic confusion appears to be a vindication of John Beck’s (2011) ‘ambivalence’ thesis: it seems that we may want contradictory things from the bunker, and resolve that incongruity via a wilful conflation of tastes and registers: military – holiday – future – past, all rolled together to service the taste for novel experiences. Our relationship to bunkers, their past, present and future is complex. Perhaps we can detect some evidence of a sublime nostalgia at play – that we can scare ourselves safely now by invoking the atomic- or military-sublime by choosing to visit these places for a short break: safe in the knowledge that this abjection is temporary, of our choosing and that we can choose to leave this experience at any point. Such experience is sublime because we feel that ultimately we are safe – the Cold War has ended, and we have chosen to dabble in this reminiscence or this abjection-lite. This is the ultimate tourism, safely visiting a sanitised version of the past, tasting a remembrance of a childhood fear whilst sipping fine wine.

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Jonathan Veitch (2010) takes the point even further – reflecting on his visit to the remains of Survival Town, the mock up cluster of buildings and their mannequin inhabitants, blasted in the civil effects tests held deep in the heart of the Nevada Test Site (NTS) in the 1950s. He admits that there is something erotic in the fascination he feels there: ‘these test houses at the NTS convey, more palpably than any other place I can think of, our longing for apocalypse, the desire to bring everything down around us’ (335).

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Meanwhile Marc Lafleur’s (2007) ethnographic study of the 60th anniversary of the Hiroshima / Nagasaki bombings at the National Atomic Museum, Los Alamos, picks out the ‘intimate spectatorship’ and ‘fleeting pit-stops’ (2007, 211) characteristic of touristic/heritage spectacle at Cold War attractions. For him these sites ‘constitute the fleeting and emptied out moments of politics siphoned through shock, sympathy and schadenfreude’ (214). Schadenfreude – because part of the experience is the (sublime-based) knowledge that yours was not the body that was hurt. Shock in the sense of an aestheticized spectacle, the ultimate effect of which is to anaesthetise through overstimulation (in the sense described by Walter Benjamin). Finally, in Sympathy, Lafleur leaves us some glimmer of hope: that such places have the potentiality at least to be ‘gathering points in the new public sphere, places where a ‘we’ can form, however temporarily, in the bloody haze of one more disaster your body has averted’ (215).

References

Beck, John (2011) ‘Concrete Ambivalence: Inside the Bunker Complex’ Cultural Politics 7: 79-102.

Bennett, Luke (2017) ‘Forcing the Empties Back to Work: Ruinphobia and the Bluntness of Law and Policy’ in John Henneberry (ed.) Transience and Dereliction in Urban Development and Property Markets, Chichester: John Wiley & Sons.

Lafleur, Marc (2007) ‘Life and Death in the Shadow of the A-Bomb: Sovereignty and Memory on the 60th anniversary of Hiroshima and Nagasaki’ in Nico Carpentier (ed.) Culture, Trauma, and Conflict: Cultural Studies Perspectives on War. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, pp. 209-228.

Strömberg, Per (2013) ‘Funky Bunkers: The Post-Military Landscape as a Readymade Space and a Cultural Playground’ in Gary A Boyd & Denis Linehan, Ordnance: War + Architecture & Space. Farnham: Ashgate, pp. 67-81.

Veitch, Jonathan (2010) ‘Dr. Strangelove’s Cabinet of Wonder: Sifting through the Atomic Ruins at the Nevada Test Site’ in Julia Hell & Andreas Schönle (eds.) The Ruins of Modernity. London: Duke University Press, pp. 321-338.

Image credits: (1) Barbed wire stands, Fårösund Fortress in Malmros, Sophie (2008). “Fårösunds fästning: från Krimkrig till lyxhotell” (PDF). Kulturvärden (in Swedish) (1): 24–29 : ill (2) Green roof, grey edges, Fårösund Fortress – http://farosundsfastning.com/ (3) Nevada Test Site Dummies – http://falloutshelternyc.blogspot.co.uk/2011/05/nycs-atomic-mannequin-veterans.html; (3) Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum -http://twilightzone518.blogspot.co.uk/2014/05/atomic-bomb-museum-nagasaki.html

 

 

“The Future of the Bunker // The Bunker of the Future”: Call For Papers: Royal Geographical Society Annual Conference, London: 29 August – 1 September 2017

Call For Papers

Royal Geographical Society  Annual Conference,

London: 29 August – 1 September 2017

The Future of the Bunker // The Bunker of the Future

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“Anachronistic in normal periods, in peacetime the bunker appears as a survival machine, as a shipwrecked submarine on a beach.” (Virilio, 1994)

The last two decades have seen increasing public interest in, and engagements with, the abandoned remains of Second World War and Cold War era military and civil defence bunkers. Academics have been busy analysing the motives and forms of this engagement (Bennett 2011; Maus 2017) and also charting the origins and affective-material impacts of those 20th century waves of bunker-building mania (Bartolini 2015; Klinke 2015; Berger Ziauddin 2016). Such engagements and studies have tended to figure the bunker as a now-deactivated form – as a form of contemporary ruin – and as a phenomenon of the (albeit recent) past. This Call for Papers seeks to supplement this scholarship by examining the bunkers’ futurity: through considering the bunker as an immanent contemporary and still-yet-to-come form of place. As John Armitage (2015) has recently put it (writing of Paul Virilio’s seminal first-encounter with a bunker of the Nazi Atlantic Wall in 1958): “when we face the bunker, we need to periodize our feelings of lurking danger – to insert them into historical time and to identify the periods of relative serenity, when not only the fixed content of the military bunker but also the relation between oblique architecture and the sudden appearance of this object on the beach remain relatively tranquil”.

This call invites proposals for 15 mins presentations originating in any discipline, that speak to this concern to examine the bunker’s futurity. This call is not intended to be prescriptive, as consideration of the bunker’s (benign or malevolent) potentialities requires a degree of speculation and cross-disciplinary thinking. The following list of potential themes is therefore indicative, rather than restrictive:

  • How are the 20th century’s redundant bunkers repurposed, and is this re-appropriation always playful or “funky” (Strömberg 2013). What does the variety of re-uses tell us about the multivalent resilience (or obstinacy) of the bunker-form?
  • How, specifically, has the bunker-form influenced the ‘new military urbanism’ observed by Stephen Graham (2011) at heart of contemporary urban infrastructures and the bunkerisation of otherwise conventional buildings (Monteyne 2014)?
  • How is the bunker-form evolving in its contemporary suburban manifestations as drone command centres, government crisis command rooms and fortified emergency stores?
  • How might the “perpetual architecture” (CLUI 2013) of seed banks, nuclear waste and fissile material repositories and server farms be seen as the bunker’s latest iteration? And following Van Wyck 2004, how can we analyse the time-capsule role of such bunker-forms?
  • How can the present and future of the bunker be publicly presenced? Do the techniques of bunker-hunting applied to the recreational surveying of the last century’s now-abandoned bunkers work for their extant, and forthcoming 21st century variants?
  • How is the image of the bunker evolving in popular culture?
  • Is the intimate association between concrete and bunkers breaking down, and if it is what are the implications of this material change to the bunker-form? Is a bunker defined by it’s poured-concrete construction or by the exceptional, power-concentrated and emergency-driven reasons for its existence?
  • Given the rise of commercial panic room and bunker-builders like http://www.terravivos.com/ has the bunker become privatised, and prospects of survival commodified? What are the emergent inequalities of protection against 21st century existential threats?
  • What and where are the bunkers of future? Space bases, underground or undersea living-stations, cryogenic capsules?

Please send abstracts (maximum of 250 words) to Luke Bennett (l.e.bennett@shu.ac.uk) (Reader in Space, Place & Law, Department of the Natural & Built Environment, Sheffield Hallam University, UK) by 1st February 2017.

 

References

Armitage, John. 2015. Virilio for Architects. Abingdon: Routledge.

Bartolini, Nadia. 2015. ‘The Politics of Vibrant Matter: Consistency, Containment and the Concrete of Mussolini’s Bunker’ Journal of Material Culture 20(2): 191-210.

Bennett, Luke. 2011. ‘Bunkerology: A Case Study in the Theory and Practice of Urban Exploration’ Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 29: 421-434.

Berger Ziauddin, Silvia . 2016. ‘(De)territorializing the Home. The Nuclear Bomb Shelter as a Malleable Site of Passage’. Environment & Planning D: Society & Space, advanced publication online 12 November, DOI 10.1177/0263775816677551.

CLUI (Center for Land Use Interpretation). 2013. ‘Perpetual Architecture: Uranium Disposal Cells of America.’ Lay of the Land Newsletter, Winter 2013 (online) http://www.clui.org/newsletter/winter-2013/perpetual-architecture

Graham, Stephen. 2011. Cities Under Siege: The New Military Urbanism. London: Verso.

Klinke, Ian. 2015. ‘The Bunker and the Camp: Inside West Germany’s Nuclear Tomb’ Environment & Planning D: Society & Space 33(1): 154-168.

Monteyne, David. 2014. ‘Uncertainties: Architecture and Building Security in the 21st Century’ in Benjamin Flowers (ed.) Architecture in an Age of Uncertainty. Abingdon: Routledge.

Maus, Gunnar. 2017. ‘Popular Historical Geographies of the Cold War: Playing, Hunting and Recording Small Munitions Bunkers in Germany’ in Luke Bennett (ed.) In the Ruins of the Cold War Bunker: Materiality, Affect and Meaning Making. London: Rowman & Littlefield International.

Strömberg, Per. 2013. ‘Funky Bunkers: The Post-Military Landscape as a Readymade Space and a Cultural Playground’ in Gary A. Boyd & Denis Linehan, Ordnance: War + Architecture & Space. Farnham: Ashgate, pp. 67-81.

Van Wyck, Peter. 2004. ‘American Monument: The Waste Isolation Pilot Plant’, in Scott C. Zeman & Michael A, Amundson (eds.), Atomic Culture: How We Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. Boulder: University Press of Colorado, pp. 149-172.

Virilio, Paul. 1994. Bunker Archeology. New York: Princeton Architectural Press (translated by George Collins).

 

Image Credit: Svalbard Seed Vault, Norway via http://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/syria-war-forces-first-withdrawal-artic-seed-vault-n433471

This is New Uses for Old Bunkers #41.

(Almost…) In the Ruins of the Cold War Bunker – materiality, affect and meaning making

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Nearly there – the manuscript will be with the publisher by the end of this week. Here’s a sneak peek at the 14 essays that make up my bunker book (due for publication by Rowman & Littlefield International in August 2017, as part of their Place, Memory, Affect series…

Part I – Introducing the Bunker: Ruins, Hunters and Motives –  features a general introduction followed by a second chapter written by me, Entering the Bunker with Paul Virilio: the Atlantic Wall, Pure War and Trauma, in which I discuss the importance of the seminal bunker hunting of French cultural theorist Paul Virilio, who between 1958 and 1965 systematically visited, photographed and researched the imposing bunker formations of the Nazi Atlantic wall, and who did so at the height of the Cold War. I outline Virilio’s affective engagement with these bunkers, their impact upon his later theorising and argue that this compulsive hunting can be shown to be the product of traumatic wartime experiences. I then use this finding to argue that compulsive bunker hunting of the Cold War’s shelters, may also be understood in this way, with even Virilio having described the nuclear anxiety based trauma of the Cold War as greater than that of the Second World War.

Part II – Looking at the Bunker: Representation, Image and Affect – then presents three chapters written by artists, who each explore how established and newly emergent practices of representation engage with the Cold War’s bunkers and what they formerly, and may now, stand for (both for them and for others). First, in Peripheral Artefacts: Drawing [out] the Cold War, Stephen Felmingham discusses his use of experimental drawing techniques to access the ‘hidden in plain sight’ uncanny qualities of now abandoned ROC Posts. In doing so Felmingham shows how his bunker-entering reconnaissance accessed his sublimated childhood trauma of growing up in East Anglia in the 1980s amidst USAF and RAF nuclear bases, pointing to the potency of material and spatial triggers to memory and feeling. Next, in Sublime Concrete: The Fantasy Bunker, Explored scenographer and sound artist Kathrine Sandys, explores the atmospheres, properties and possibilities of the Cold War bunker, situating an account of her own installation-based works, within a wider discussion of the fact vs fiction confusion of these places, and their link to an emergent military sublime. Sandys finds in these remains, a blankness which calls for meaning making to be undertaken actively by those who engage with the bunkers and their phenomenological properties. Finally, in Processional Engagements: Sebaldian Pilgrimages to Orford Ness, Louise K. Wilson considers the ways in which a variety of artists have engaged the iconic Orford Ness site, and the extent to which those engagements have come to be conditioned by certain strong, framing tropes. Specifically, Wilson considers the enduring influence of W.G. Sebald’s melancholic reading of this site and its most iconic remnant structures. Whilst attentive to recent departures from this representational mould, Wilson chronicles the persistence of engagements which seek to foreground (and/or create) an inaccessible (and open, plastic) ‘mystery’ for the site – thereby producing art ‘about’ the site which relies more on imagination than upon deep engagement with its archival or material facticity.

In Part III – Embracing the Bunker: Identity, Materiality and Memory – the concern is with how an emergent attentiveness to the physicality of the world and our ‘entanglement’ with it (Hodder 2012) (this being the sense in which ‘materiality’ is used in this collection) affects the way in which we can account for human engagements with the remains of Cold War bunkers. The first two chapters in this part examine the entanglement of the material world and the identity of the explorer within the act of interpreting Cold War remains, with each author using experimental writing techniques to destabilise seemingly conventional forms of investigatory narrative. First, in Torås Fort: A Speculative Study of War Architecture in the Landscape, artist Matthew Flintham uses the techniques of speculative fiction to unsettle an account of a geologist’s compulsive analysis of the materialities of the remains of a Norwegian coastal battery, fusing the styles of the natural sciences and horror writing to do so. Flintham’s account reflects the ‘weird realism’ stylistics and concerns of contemporary writers (like De Landa 1997; Negarestani 2008; Bogost 2012; and Harman 2012) who each ascribe ominous, ‘hidden in plain sight’ posthuman mystery to seemingly dumb brute banal geological objects.

Then, in Bunker and Cave Counterpoint: Exploring Underground Cold War Landscapes in Greenbrier County, West Virginia, anthropologist María Alejandra Pérez uses techniques of counterpoint and ethnographic surrealism to juxtapose her autoethnographic accounts of visits to the US Congress bunker built beneath the luxury Greenbrier Resort with the remains of a far more rudimentary public nuclear shelter located within the Organ cave complex, 14 miles away. In doing so Pérez emphasises the iterative, unsettled process of meaning making, infusing her account with the bleed between these places’ multiple histories and uses and also the provocations of her own identity: both as an immigrant with a very different cultural experience of the Cold War, and as a caver.

Thereafter, two chapters address the role of affective-materialities in the production of collective identities via practices of recuperation enacted at particular material sites of encounter. First, in Recuperative Materialities: The Kinmen Tunnel Music Festival, cultural geographer J.J. Zhang explores the important role of the material properties of the Zhaishan tunnel complex, part of a defensive network of fortifications protecting the Taiwanese island of Kinmen from Chinese invasion. Only a few miles from the Chinese mainland the island was the scene of repeated exchanges of artillery fire during the Cold War. Now decommissioned, the tunnel is the site of a classical music festival, which Zhang analyses in terms of the affective-material recuperation afforded by the acoustic properties of the tunnel itself, ascribing to it a sensuous agency and showing how ‘rapproachment tourists’ find the tunnel to act as a healing sensorium – an externalized seat of sensation where humans and tunnel come together. Finally, in Once Upon a Time in Ksamil: Communist and Post-Communist Biographies of Mushroom-Shaped Bunkers in Albania, archaeologist Emily Glass considers the seemingly ambivalent relationship of Albanians with the material legacy of the hundreds of thousands of small bunkers constructed upon their landscape during the Cold War – the physical embodiment of Cold War era Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha’s defensive, isolationist paranoia. Glass shows how a strict control over knowledge about the bunker production during the Cold War era gave way to a multivalent afterlife for these structures, in which locals appropriated them for mundane and illicit uses whilst tourists and the tourism industry adopted them as a symbol of Albania.

In Part IV – Dealing with the Bunker: Hunting, Visiting and Remaking – the attention shifts to how meaning making is organised.  In the first pair of essays, the focus is upon heritage practices and specifically the lay/professional divide. First, cultural geographer Gunnar Maus, applies Theodore Schatzki’s practice theory to an analysis of the parallel bunker hunting by heritage officials, bunkerologists and geocachers in the former West Germany in Popular Historical Geographies of the Cold War: Hunting, Recording and Playing with Small Munitions Bunkers in Germany. Maus finds structural affinities in the ways in which these three communities of bunker hunters seek out and interact with Sperrmittelhäuser: demolition charge storage bunkers that formed part of West Germany’s ‘preconstructed obstacle’ system of Cold War defence. Maus explores the important difference between motivations (which here were divergent) and methods of practice (which both demonstrate affinities and evidence of collaboration between these diverse communities of bunker hunters). Then in Why the Cold War Matters: Exploring Visitors’ Identity Constructions at Cold War Sites in Britain, tourism studies researcher Inge Hermann, reports her study of the ways in which visitors engage with UK Cold War bunker ‘attractions’, highlighting the ways in which individual visitors actively form their own interpretations of Cold War ‘attraction’ sites. Hermann contrasts the vitality of this active reading by audiences with, what she regards as a rather closed approach imposed by heritage professionals, arguing that the effect of an ‘authorised heritage discourse’ in relation to the rendering of Cold War bunkers as ‘heritage’, pays insufficient regard to how individual visitors react to these places.

Hermann’s analysis is then followed by Rachel Bowers’ and Kevin Booth’s discussion of the decisions necessitated in their curation of English Heritage’s York Cold War bunker in Preserving and Managing York Cold War Bunker: Authenticity, Curation and the Visitor Experience. This both sets up a counterpoint to Hermann’s argument – with Bowers and Booth presenting an insiders’ account of the emergence of the Cold War as heritage’ discourse, and also their attentiveness to matters of affect and materiality (alongside discourse) within their reflexive analysis of their own experience of presenting this place as a heritage ‘attraction’. In their focus on the physical limits of curation, and the affective potentialities of place (re)making, Bowers and Booth then set the scene for Dutch architect, Arno Geesink, who considers the spatial possibilities and limitations of his proposals to redevelop a Dutch former nuclear shelter into a public events space in The Anomalous Potential of the Atoombunker: Exploring and Repurposing Arnhem’s Ruins. Geesink shows how his search for sites for redevelopment is informed by his interest in military history, once more disrupting a simplistic dichotomy of enthusiast vs professional bunker hunters.

In the concluding chapter, Presencing the Bunker: Past, Present and Future I pull together the book’s themes and contributions in order to examine the tension between on the one hand the politically-inspired desire to reveal and preserve the bunker as an unmasked cypher of state power, and on the other hand, pressures (and enticements) to re-appropriate bunker-ruins and to move beyond Cold War memorialisation. This enquiry into the question of the bunker’s futurity pits concerns for authenticity and sincerity against the opportunities of plasticity and playfulness, a quandary that appears to affect many contemporary engagements with the ruins of the Cold War bunker.

Image credit: Matthew Flintham, Torås Kommandoplasse (2010) (four frame captures from Lehmann’s footage of Torås). Digital video. Reproduced by kind permission of Matthew Flintham.

This is New Uses for Old Bunkers #40.

Virilio’s trip: The seaside, purposeful places and their afterwards (plus a pointer to the next SHU SPG event)

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Trudging slowly over wet sand, back to the bench where your clothes were stolen.

This is the coastal town that they forgot to close down.

Morrissey (1988) Everyday is like Sunday

In the Summer of 1945 a 14 year old Paul Virilio encountered the seaside for the first time, a space which had been forbidden to him and his compatriots during the war. In the preface to his Bunker Archeology (1994), Virilio presents a vivid account of the unfurling of this new zone in his consciousness, and his initial attempts to characterise and make sense of it. Recounting his arrival at the Atlantic Coast, Virilio’s experiential processing at first foregrounds the abundance of space and emptiness of sand and sea, of the vastness of the “oceanic horizon” (9). The removal of the beaches mines and tank obstacles opened up this “liquid continent” (9) to view and access. Virilio recall’s the luminescence of the coast – its vivid sky, the transparency of the water, and the August sun “a magnifying glass scorching away every relief and contrast” (10) to leave a hybrid desert/deserted battlefield.

However Virilio is only too well aware that whilst mysterious, previously denied for him, the coastal strip had very recently been a place of intense activity for France’s Nazi occupiers and their forced labourers, who during the war had embarked there on the world’s largest ever construction project: the Atlantikwall, the building of a network of coastal bunkers and related infrastructure to deny the Allies access to the European continent via the shore. Exploring the physical legacy of this Virilio turns his attention to the action of walking between the remains of the coastal inhabitations – the evacuated village housing and the abandoned coastal defences, and in doing so he starts to outline the after-time effect of this place, for he is walking amidst somewhere that in other (very recent) times has had a surfeit of occupants and an intensity of purpose – and whether as vibrant coastal resort or nodal point in a wartime coastal defence line. In short, this place’s time (for the present) has gone. Here is ghost town, a phantom place defined by past activity and currently purpose-less. And it is a liminal place in another sense too – for this (currently thwarted) attempt at an aggregated human dwelling (an urbanity of sorts) is physically perched at an edge: the sudden end of all things land-based, as the ground gives way to sand and then vast water. Dwelling at this edge has a special character, particular attractions (aesthetic and other) but also a socio-economic structural vulnerability. Coastal dwelling, in both the sense of habitations and inhabitants, is especially precarious – exposed both to the physical proximity to the dynamic sea and coast and to the vulnerability that comes from a settlement being originated for only one, or only a limited few, purposes: fishing, tourism or coastal defence.

We will be exploring the precariousness of coastal settlements at out next SHU Space & Place Group meeting (details below). We won’t be talking about bunkers, but for me the ruminations of Virilio (and Morrissey) help to situate the thrall of the seen-better-days coastal town, one of which I grew up in.

Here are the details for the event:

“Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside” – two representations of coastal towns (and SHU SPG next steps discussion)

Wednesday, 30 November 2-4pm, Cantor Building Rm 9231

The SHU SPG is keen to investigate an ever wider array of studies and interrogations of place. For its next themed session we will be exploring two different studies of the lived reality of UK seaside towns and contrasting their methodological approaches and aims. Our speakers will be:

  •  Prof Christina Beatty, from SHU’s Centre for Regional Economic and Social Research who will outline her recent investigation into Seaside towns in the age of austerity, and its characterisation of recent trends in employment in seaside tourism in England and Wales:

http://www4.shu.ac.uk/research/cresr/ourexpertise/seaside-towns-age-austerity; and

  •  Dr Harriet Tarlo (Reader in Creative Writing, in SHU’s Humanities Dept) and  Dr Judith Tucker (Senior Lecturer in Art & Design at Leeds University) who will showcase their Project Fitties: image, text and memory in place, a multi-modal affective investigation of the inhabitation of the North East Lincolnshire coast: http://www.projectfitties.com/about.

Joanne Lee (Senior lecturer in Graphic Design, SHU Institute of Arts) will chair this session, and in doing so, Jo will draw upon her recent work The Good Place That Is No Place, a photography/audio work which explores a deprived ward of tower blocks and low rise maisonettes near Grimsby docks, as part of the Lightworks Festivalhttps://wemustcreate.co/blog

Following open discussion on the two projects, there will be time set aside in which we can then discuss future projects and directions for the SHU SPG group in 2017 and beyond. This discussion will be led by Dr Luke Bennett (Reader, Dept of the Natural & Built Environment, SHU) and Dr Carol Taylor (Reader, Sheffield Institute of Education, SHU). As part of this session Dr Kiera Chapman from the Department of Urban Studies & Planning, University of Sheffield will outline the University of Sheffield’s Space & Place Reading Group and our joint plans for a collaborative Sheffield Space & Place Network along with Morag Rose’s Sheffield Psychogeography Action.

All are very welcome to attend this event (and regardless of institution, discipline or whether you’ve attended any SPG event previously).

The event is free – but please register on Eventbrite (https://www.eventbrite.com/e/oh-i-do-like-to-be-beside-the-seaside-two-representations-of-coastal-towns-and-shu-spg-next-steps-tickets-28815466837)  so that we can keep an eye on numbers.

This is New Uses for Old Bunkers #39.

New Uses for Old Bunkers #37: the many lives of Greenham’s GAMA silos

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Sitting in the cinema watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) I was suddenly surprised. As Resistance fighters ran around their base on the planet D’Qar readying X-Wing fighters for launch there was something about their bunkers that looked strangely familiar. Then the penny dropped – I was actually looking at USAF Greenham Common’s GAMA (GLCM Alert & Maintenance Area) cruise missile ‘silos’: these silos were horizontal in form, not vertical, they were hardened garage-bunkers from which cruise missile launch vehicles would drive out and deploy when prevailing geopolitical circumstances required. During the 1980s GAMA was the focal point of what Eric Hobsbawm called the “Second Cold War” (1995: 244), triggered by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the arrival in 1983 of US ground launched cruise missiles in Europe, 96 of which were stationed at Greenham Common.

Greenham Common was one of only six European GLCM bases, and for a UK audience at least was by far the most well-known. ‘Greenham Common’ soon came to be synonymous with this stage of the Cold War and of opposition to it, with its world-famous Women’s peace camps ringing the sites perimeter fences. As a result, the site’s GAMA silos are now protected against alteration or destruction via their designation in 2003 as a Scheduled Monument. But the GAMA silos are now effectively all that remains of USAF Greenham Common, they are iconic but isolated, redundant grass-humped tumuli set in two rows, served by decaying concrete aprons. The base was handed back by USAF in 1992, and Ministry of Defence closed the site in 1993. In 1997 it was bought by a public/private sector consortium, The Greenham Common Trust (for £7 million), which then sold the open land to the local council (for £1), and converted the base’s service buildings into a business park. The former base’s runway (the longest in Europe) was also grubbed up, its one million tonnes of asphalt and concrete then being consumed in local road building projects. Meanwhile, the former base’s open land was returned to its pre 1941 common land status, much of the site’s security fencing was removed and sheep now graze upon it.

In their timeline of the changing face of Greenham Common during its military era (1941 – 1992) John Schofield and Mike Anderton (2009) show how the site continually fluctuated between phases of use and abandonment; between significance and insignificance. Indeed, even within this site’s GAMA phase was remarkably short – spread between NATO’s decision in 1979 to develop European GLCM capability to counter the already deployed Soviet SS-20 mobile launchers, the early 1980s preparatory works to create the compound and the receipt of the site’s 96 GLCMs in the mid-1980s. But then in 1987 the US and USSR signed the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, eliminating all GLCMs from Europe and by 1991 all of GAMA’s GCLMs had repatriated to the US for decommissioning.

At Greenham Common, the sustained attention paid to the GAMA silos by the women peace campaigners who occupied make-shift protest camps around the site’s then-fenced perimeter between 1981 and 2000, has had a significant influence upon GAMA’s ongoing valence. The peace women sought to challenge GAMA by presencing and subverting its form and its functioning through direct action ranging across obstructing site traffic, symbolic actions involving the perimeter fence (cutting it; attaching pictures, pledges and weavings to it; joining hands around it) and incursions into the site. In 1983 50,000 women encircled the site, and pulled down sections of the fencing. Earlier that year a cadre of protestors had made it into the GAMA compound, joined hands and danced on top of one of the part-built silos. Raissa Page’s iconic photograph of this trespass announced to the world both the protestors and silo’s soon to be earth-covered thick concrete roof. As Anne Seller put it:

“…we have done two or three things at Greenham. We have made the abstract concrete in the silos of Greenham, pinned it down to place and time, so that it is no longer part of the unremarked but debilitating atmosphere we breathe. We can now see and name. And we have made our response sane – brought it out of ‘foolish tears, silly emotional women’ – so now those who fail to weep are the inadequately matured.” (1985: 28)

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Meanwhile Ann Snitow (1985: 49) testified to the affective heightening caused by living in close proximity to the GAMA silos: “Immense London, with its illusion of solidity: we imagined it melted in a moment. In fact, living next to the silos at Greenham stirs the imagination in all directions. One’s fear increases, but the direct action always possible there keeps down despair.”

As Tim Cresswell (1996) has shown the essence of the women’s protest was to emphasise their difference to the masculine-military complex they faced, a strategy aimed at inflicting “cognitive confusion” (Snitow 1985: 47) upon those running the base: or as Schofield and Anderton (2009: 107) have put it “to subvert the fence; to make it less male, less military, less functional… and more ridiculous”. But the protests also showed a bunker-hunting affinity, captured in Snitow’s observation that the women:

“breach base security daily, symbolically enacting their belief that the missiles do not represent security for anyone. Slipping under or cutting doors through the wire, they wander around inside, painting women’s symbols, picking up secret memos from office desks (an important one on preparedness for chemical warfare was filched and widely distributed among the women while I was there), and fiddling with mysterious machinery” (1985: 47).

But, it is now over 15 years since the peace camp left, and nearly 25 since the GLCMs were removed. It is clear that whilst mindful of the valence given to GAMA by the peace women, those now occupying Greenham Common and in charge of deciding its current and future uses, wish to broaden the site’s connotations, and the framings have moved on to matters of economic development, wildlife and recreation. However, even within this altered discursive terrain there is some value to be found in pointing to the site’s Cold War heritage and the essential qualities (and connotations) of residual bunker architecture: for example, where organisations emphasise their resilience by pointing out that their IT severs are safely ensconced within the former command and control bunker at Greenham Common, acquired by The Bunker Secure Hosting Ltd in 2004.

The transformation of GAMA into Cold War ‘heritage’ started soon after the site was decommissioned, and negotiations for the Greenham Women’s departure in 2000 included agreement for a memorial, to commemorate their presence there. But (apart from scheduling the GAMA silos as protected Scheduled Monument) there appears to have been little will to actually turn the GAMA site into a Cold War museum-type ‘attraction’. As Ronald Hinchliffe (1997) laments (in relation to the failure to secure sufficient political and financial support for a proposal to turn the former USAF Upper Heyford air base into a Cold War museum) it appears that many regard such sites as suited better to new uses, and that the Cold War is too ambiguous to ‘celebrate’.

Surprisingly, GAMA has never attracted the same level of post-Cold War attention as Orford Ness, despite access to the site having been afforded to artists from the early 1990s, with John Kippin (2001) and Frank Watson (2004) featuring the GAMA silos in their photographic surveys of the Cold War’s “deactivated landscape” (Watson 2004). But it is installation and video artists Jane & Louise Wilson who claim to have had first access – entering it when it was still Ministry of Defence property in the mid 1990s. In their resulting work, the 1999 Turner Prize nominated Gamma, the sisters explore the atmosphere of the abandoned GAMA silos, and in doing so they inevitably projected their own meaning making endeavour upon GAMA. Art critic Matthew Collings (1999), reviewing Gamma, noted how the Wilsons chose to film the bunkers in an alienated, disconnected style – as though with roving security cameras – making it seem like a science fiction film, confounding our expectations because this place was real. He also remarks on the absence of any celebratory ‘the war is over’ air, and detects instead the intention to create an unsettling atmosphere, a feeling that something malevolent remains even though the cruise missiles have gone. Thus, whilst enacted within a Cold War bunker, the resulting work speaks more generically to a sci-fi movie-inflected world in which surveillance CCTV, and modern ruins are proliferating. The work, then is (inevitably) of its time: as much expressing millennial angst as it is Cold War trauma.  But, perhaps here the Wilsons are accessing that transcultural sense of the bunker’s essence – returning us to Virilio’s first impressions as he entered his first bunker at Saint-Guénolé and felt assailed by “cultural memories” of “the Egyptian mastabas, the Etruscan tombs, the Aztec structures” (1994: 11).

Our ability to make sense of the bunker is inextricably bound up with our popular cultural framings of such places. And so it was that I recognised the GAMA silos brief appearance in the Star Wars film because they have – in their slightly run-down form – previously featured in episodes of the BBC Top Gear series, in particular a 2008 feature in which the irreverent presenters raced around the GAMA compound pitting ‘communist’ cars against their Western counterparts. This is as close as the site owners have got to establishing a Cold War museum at the site since purchasing it in 2003 for £315,000. Their efforts to make GAMA remunerative remain ongoing, and planning permission is needed to enable the compound to be used permanently as a storage yard, it having previously had time-limited permission for the storage of up to 6,000 cars on GAMA’s extensive concrete apron. In 2011 a planning inspector refused an application for permanent storage use, based on heritage grounds: the importance of preserving the open character and clear views of the GAMA silos. Thus the Scheduled Monument status of the silos enables this ‘blocking’ of new uses, but it cannot itself compel a heritage-led redevelopment of this iconic site. So, the site limps on via a succession of occasional uses – such as driver training, classic car rallies and film shoots. And the latest instalment in the site’s history of female infiltration and creative resignification of the GAMA compound, is Beyoncé attendance in 2013, to record scenes for a music video within one of the, now ageing, silos.

 

References

Collings, Matthew (1999) This is Modern Art. Seven Dials: London.

Cresswell, Tim (1996) In Place/Out of Place: Geography, Ideology and Transgression. University of Minnesota Press: London.

Hobsbawm, Eric (1995) The Age of Extremes: the short twentieth century 1914-1991 Abacus: London.

Hinchliffe, Ronald (1997) ‘The Cold War: the need to remember or desire to forget’ History Workshop Journal  43 234-239.

Kippin, John (2001) Cold War Pastoral. Black Dog Publishing: London.

Schofield, John & Anderton, Mike (2009) ‘Greenham Common Airbase’ in John Schofield, Aftermath: Readings in the archaeology of recent conflict. Springer: New York pp 99-112.

Seller, Anne (1985) ‘A concrete reality’, Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies, 8 (2): 26-31.

Snitow, Ann (1985) ‘Pictures for 10 Million women’, Frontiers: A Journal of Women’s Studies, 8 (2): 45-49.

Virilio, Paul (1994) Bunker Archeology. Princeton Architectural Press: New York (translated by George Collins).

Watson, Frank (2004) The Hush House: Cold War Sites in England. Hush House Publishers: London

Images:

Raissa Page, 1983 (via https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2011/sep/21/raissa-page-obituary)

Stray off the path, 2015 (via http://www.strayoffthepath.co.uk/raf-greenham-common-gama.html)

Perec’s Borescope: urban exploration with a fat book and fully charged power tools

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“What is there under your wallpaper?”Georges Perec (1973) The Infraordinary

Earlier this week, I was a presenter at the AHRC/University of Sheffield symposium on Georges Perec’s Geographies. I’m not a Perec scholar, but was invited because – so I was told – my work has an affinity with Perec’s methods and chosen point of focus: the infraordinary. In opening the event Richard Philips (University of Sheffield), pointed out that much that is labelled ‘psychogeography’ these days has an un- (or under) acknowledged affinity to Perec’s literary project, and perhaps even a stronger connection to Perec than to the Situationists. I think he has a point – and I can certainly see more of Perec than Debord in (for example) Nick Papadimitriou’s writings.

The cast for the event featured a great spread of disciplines. The literary types drilled into Perec’s body of work (across text, stage, radio and film) and drew out connections, disjunctures and influences. Perec characterised his writing as having four modes: the ludic, the narrative, the biographical and the sociological. We saw how each piece of work brought one or more of these to the fore, but each time with a sombre, restless searching lying somewhere beneath the surface – no matter how playful the project in hand seemed to be. In the early 1970s Perec engaged in a variety of projects seeking to exhaust the everyday spaces of Paris – seeking to describe everything that would normally be left out of anyone else’s depiction of any place, on the grounds of being unremarkable. Thus his Attempt to Exhaust a Place in Paris (1973) is a 40 page account of watching buses, people and pigeons come and go at the same Paris street-corner over a three day period.

Having paid £10 for this slim book and sat down avidly to read it in my prep for the symposium I was left underwhelmed. In this text Perec resisted any urges to find a narrative – storylines – to join these observations together, or to follow their hints towards more interesting conjectural spaces.

This and the other projects of that time mapped the groundwork for Perec’s novel Life: a User’s Manual (1978), which he started writing a couple of years later. In his influential extended essay Species of Spaces (1974) Perec had alluded to this embryonic project, stating that he would write an exhaustive account of the life of an apartment building, its residents, their rooms and lives.

The gist of my presentation (as shown in the slides below) was to note that Perec’s sociological mode, to the fore in Attempt sharply fell away in Life, and that instead a narrative concern took over – the denizens being giving stories which intricately interconnect them into the lived totality of this place. This narrative imperative is – I think – inevitable. Who would read a 600 page stream of pure observational data? But I think this set of choices emphasises the impossibility of capturing everything and that some frame or other will have to apply to the infraordinary’s infinity.

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In my talk, I went on to reflect on how Perec’s approach in Life might speak to contemporary urban exploration. In conclusion I presented at first a positive – that Perec reminds us of the importance of people and their making of place through myriad actions and daily concerns. Contemporary urban exploration writing often foregrounds the solitude of the lone explorer or the place itself and these wider connections to a social world of living, feeling, otherwise-preoccupied people gets lost. But my second concluding point was the inverse of this Perecquain virtue – and which, I concede, is a point that comes into being in the early 21st century in way it possibly could not in 1970s French literary culture – is the paucity of attention given to the apartment building and its materiality and its other residents. Perec’s focus in Life is almost exclusively a human one. I illustrated this by complaining about the ease with which Perec dissolves the apartment’s exterior wall in order to ‘see’ the people inside. I then ruminated on techniques (literary, artistic and technological) that would enable a lingering within the wall.

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And it was at that point that I got out a power drill and suggested drilling into the lecture theatre’s wall to insert there a borescope – a probe for cavity inspection. Borescope also offers up a nice Perecquain duality – both the name for the probe, but also a new name for Perec’s infraordinary investigations: of scoping (intently looking into) the boring.

I closed out my talk by contrasting the wall-noticing (and multiplying) work of Gregor Schneider, who modifies residential buildings, principally by shrinking their rooms and thus creating ‘spare’ voids beyond the reduced rooms. These are then unsettling extra spaces – some accessible, some not – that disrupt the otherwise homely feel. These spaces emphasise the spaces of the walls rather than effortlessly passing through them.

Schneider gives a fascinating account of his work in this 80 minute lecture from the Architectural Association:

 

Image credit:

http://www.877quicdry.com/inspection_hi_tech_equipment.cfm;

https://aadivaahan.wordpress.com/2013/01/20/two-hammer-blows-and-a-random-walk/