I have an enduring weakness for the sheer magnificence of brick-built silos. Some of them - like the ones in Antwerp and Merksem for instance - are truly vast. I wonder how many bricklayers must have been employed all those years ago to build these monsters! Not to mention the auxilliary industries of brick-making, mortar production, the transport systems necessary to get the materials to site, scaffold construction, tool manufacture and the cleaning up services that would inevitably have been required. Calculating the wall thickness and buttressing, and selecting the most suitable bond to ensure strength at such scale required, I imagine, detailed and expert knowledge. Together with the skill and craft demanded of the bricklayers and their assistants, particularly with regard to the sometimes quite ornate details and unexpected window openings meant that, in their day, these buildings must have been mega undertakings. Here is a selection of some I have come across in The Netherlands and Belgium over the past few years.
Industrial silos are used for the temporary storage of bulk goods, most commonly grain but also for wood chips, animal feeds and cement. Grain brought to a local silo by farmers, for example, is unloaded and lifted by an elevator to the top of one or more tall bins for storage. From there it is subsequently loaded for transport by train or ship to large industrial clients such as flour mills nearer to major cities or overseas. So silos are the scene of the constant noisy, messy - probably very dusty - mass movement of granular goods via these enormous storage bins from one place to the other. As the fine art of bricklaying gave way to cheaper reinforced concrete and the new technique of slip-forming, it was only a matter of time before this method was used for constructing (grain) silos.
First developed in the USA in the early 1900's, slip-forming meant that, after preparing the site, silos could be completed in a matter of weeks rather than months using a form fed with continuously poured concrete; and silos could be circular or rectangular in cross-section. As the technique was steadily perfected from 1950-70 in particular many large and often imposing concrete silos were built to extend or replace older ones. In The Netherlands concrete was used remarkably early: in 1904 for ‘De Sleutels’ in Leiden, in 1910 for the first section of the Maassilo in Rotterdam (for some time the largest in Europe) and in 1924 for the Zwarte Silo in Deventer. Inevitably, over time the relentless activity at these busy interchange hubs has left its traces on the buildings, machines and spaces on site. What started out as taut, gleaming concrete has gradually faded, muddied and begun to show the splendid signs of age. And slowly, slowly these noble monuments have grown into magnificent industrial cathedrals ringing to the ceaseless, sometimes ghostly, swishing of grain in motion...
Lodges, booths, kiosks and other forms of onsite accommodation are an intriguing yet oft-neglected fixture of many everyday sites, factories and facilities. They are usually the all-important point at which the conscientious operator tasked with guarding the gate, weighing vehicles in and out, opening the bridge or the lock gates, issuing you with a ticket or just generally keeping an eye on the place is housed. These functions are clearly important enough to warrant the design and construction of purpose-built accommodation and, perhaps because their architects can freely express their own unfettered vision and ideas, some of them are wonderfully idiosyncratic.
Sometimes just for one person, sometimes larger for two or more, sometimes doubling as living quarters they nearly always have a characteristic look about them, perhaps because they encompass a mix of both residential and work functions. I wonder sometimes what it must be like working in such cramped spaces either alone or, when space or function demands it, with others; or, for more senior staff, living onsite and having one's work so closeby all the time. Clearly a particular set of skills that not all will posess. Here is a collection of some of their places of work that I have documented over the years, some of them perhaps before they disappear for ever...
I have long been fascinated by the splendid organised mess of workshops. For the outsider these workplaces, created mostly by individuals, sometimes by small teams of two or three, appear to be arranged haphazardly. Yet it is obvious that their owners have a very clear and personal idea about just how the space should be organised to suit the way they work. To my eye there seems to have been, at least initially, an underlying logic for determining where the main work area should be, where and how tools are kept, where major power tools should be located and where all the necessary materials, parts, fixings and 'stuff that might be useful' should be stored. Frequency of use and the scale and nature of the work are likely also imortant criteria for where items are located. But after this basic framework has been laid down the design seems to undergo a period of sustained, improvised development, often over many years until it gradually settles down into a structured mess that only those who have created it can navigate. In these grimy, dusty, often unevenly lit spaces one can discover a box of old screws or tin of redundant paint that has clearly been in the same spot for ages, yet which the owner steadfastly refuses to throw away 'just in case'. To remove it would be to disturb the equilibrium irrevocably, something too fearsome to even contemplate. I imagine that most of these spaces probably remain unchanged for years until the owner retires or, perhaps worst of all, has to face the prospect of moving to a new location...
I find industrial doors intriguing, perhaps because they are an example of a purely functional item. In contrast to residential or office doors, they do not have to convey any status or be pleasing to the eye, although of course there are always some nice exceptions. These doors are devices for moving from the public realm to the realm of work, through which materials enter and finished products leave, for personnel to use day in, day out when they arrive on-site and leave when the day is done. There are naturally differences in scale, the materials used and method of operation. The metal sliding door seems to be a firm favourite, often featuring excentric mechanisms for attaching the doors or sliding their substantial mass back and forth. Wooden planks on a stout frame is another common design although these doors seem to be mostly hinged. An intriguing item is the door-in-a-door where a human-sized opening is created for workers to use so that the main door does not have to be - time-consumingly - put into action. And naturally, as the years pass, the signs of wear begin to show, forming a quiet testament to the thousands of forgotten movements back and forth...
Factories are buildings for working in, where productivity is key and for the most part where form is determined by function. It is perhaps not surprising that daylight has always been a recurring consideration in the design of a factory. Particularly throughout the 19th century, construction technology permitting, factories were equipped with the largest windows possible so that work could continue in the days before gas or electric lighting was available. But even when artificial light became commonplace, provision was still made for fresh, bright daylight to work by. Sometimes windows were quite small where maybe only machines were at work, whilst in those spaces where people were at work large areas were given over to glazing. From the early part of the 20th century and particularly after WW2 modern factories were fitted with large windows in the form of a classic saw-tooth roof or large vertical lights in the walls or gable ends of the building.
Workers were naturally happier in brighter conditions and efficiency and productivity increased; and businesses were able to demonstrate concern for the employees in these industrial palaces. Besides daylight the design of factories was also determined by the complexity of the manufacturing process on hand, perhaps requiring several floors for example, or a central covered space for the construction of large structures with the concomitant large-scale doors for entry and exit. The ready availability of (steam-powered) energy to drive machinery was another important factor, as was the need to protect buildings from fire with water systems to extinguish any blaze. In this collection of factories that I have photographed over the years it is interesting to see how many of these characteristics keep turning up...
Warehouses have long played an essential role in the short-term storage of goods en route from supplier to client, starting with an early need to keep excess grain for the proverbial rainy day. As ever, those that interest me the most are the architecturally impressive examples from the 19th and early 20th centuries. Bricks and mortar were then the main method of construction with the new kid on the block, reinforced concrete, making its entree whilst wood had all but disappeared due as much as anything to the increasing size of the new buildings. Internally wood was still important for the hefty, closely-spaced floor joists and - often - double-layered flooring to carry the immense weights involved. For the many support pillars required, initially cast iron and later concrete 'mushroom' pillars replaced their older wooden counterparts. Depending on the nature of the goods involved, floor-heights were often only as high as necessary to keep the overall construction strong and compact. When included, windows tended to be on the small side in contrast to contemporary factories where it was necessary for workers to be able to see what they were doing.
A sack of coffee beans waiting for distribution is much less demanding as long as it is dry, secure and free from infestation... Of necessity warehouses of this era were usually located at an interchange point between sea, rail, canal or road transport systems with clear acces on each side for (un)loading. Unlike silos where loose, bulk goods such as grain are stored, most warehouses cater for items in an easy to handle form such as sacks, bales, barrels, crates, etc. Goods would be raised up by hoists mounted at the top of the building and manhandled inside via large doorways placed at each level. From there they would be transported internally to their storage location using trolleys or raw manpower. Individual industries often built more specialised warehouses for fish, cotton, grain, tea, coffee or spices, sometimes with names that reflected the exotic origins of their wares such as Santos, Java or Africa... Much of this romance has sadly disappeared and modern distribution centres don't have the same architectural presence for me as their predecessors. I'm sure that internally they're extraordinarily efficient but visually they leave a lot to be desired...