Review: Making - by Thomas Heatherwick

The book that charts Heatherwick's progress from craft enthusiast to the da Vinci of modern design.

2012 has been a big year for Thomas Heatherwick and his eponymous design studio. His first redesigned Routemaster hit the road in February, with seven more slated to travel the streets throughout the Olympics. He also bagged the commission to design the “cauldron” that will house the Olympic flame as it burns throughout the games. Then there’s the studio’s behemoth retrospective opening at the V&A this Thursday, with the less than understated title of “Designing the Extraordinary”. Ten days ago the Guardian called Heatherwick the “new da Vinci of design”.

But how did it all happen?  Making, a hefty tome published by Thames & Hudson, probes that very question. It’s no short story. At 600 pages and weighing more than a rucksack, readers have the opportunity to digest more than two decades worth of Heatherwick’s output. The book is a beautiful, well designed object - one flick through will quell any suspicions that it might be merely coffee-table fodder.  Its dense swath of material is leavened by an airy layout, process diagrams and double page photo-spreads.

It’s also a look into the personal history of a man who stands – as many “starchitects” do – one step removed from the public spectacle of their work. Raised in London, Heatherwick descends from an artistic tradition. His grandfather was a musician who wrote pacifist poetry, his grandmother head of textiles at Marks and Spencer. His mother, Stefany Tomalin, was a painter, jeweller and authority on beading, while his father Hugh Heatherwick trained as a pianist before working as a creative mentor. Trips to exhibitions, crafts fairs, iron forges and futuristic housing projects in Milton Keynes were a routine part of young Thomas’ upbringing.

A fluidity of mediums was central to his education as an artist. Seven years of studies at Manchester Polytechnic and the RCA in London allowed him to dabble in plastics, glassblowing, ceramics, embroidery and woodworking. He lamented the disconnect between the “theoretic” discipline of design and the “practical” skills of craftsmanship. It was during his university years  – Heatherwick acknowledges – that he developed the ethos for which his is now celebrated: one of eschewing a hierarchy of materials, of tolerance for all forms of craftsmanship, of embracing the multivariate nature of design on large or small scales. He writes:

“At his time I became interested in the historic figure of the master builder, who combined the roles and skills of the builder, craftsman, engineer and designer, which mean that the generation of ideas was connected to the process of turning them into reality.”

Along with modernist founders, the bricklayer, the bread maker, the hedgelayer, the telescopic mirror maker and the thatcher all became Heatherwick’s muses. He notes, interestingly, that the division between the architect/engineer and the builder/craftsman was not all that wide until 1818, when the Institute of Civil Engineer was established, followed by The Royal Institute of British Architects in 1834. At this point paths diverged, leaving us with today’s version of the story: architects/engineer as elite conceptual thinker, builder/craftsman as skilled labourer. 

“Instead of rigidly dividing artistic thinking into separate crafts and professions such as sculpture, architecture, fashion, embroidery, metalwork and landscape, product and furniture design," he concluded, "I wanted to consider all design in three dimensions, not as multi-disciplinary design, but as a single discipline: three-dimensional design.”

In 1994 Heatherwick Studio opened for business. The book walks us through his projects chronologically, pausing to illustrate processes of conception and completion. Each project opens with a question, working backwards from the finished object to its driving impetus.  From the pragmatic (can a London bus be better and use 40 per cent less fuel?) to the philosophical (can an object be both abstract and representational?) to the downright near impossible (can a building be made out of a park?), it’s a clever format that lets the author explain his unique creative process. We see early exercises with chain link, plywood and old prams make way for larger experiments with furniture, commercial spaces and built environments. We see his love of dynamic curves, bold angles, natural forms and symmetry emerge, and grow more bold. Coursing throughout is a narrative of adaptability, of a desire to explore the possibility of a material rather than imposing a preconceived “design” or “shape”. 

The journey is peppered with fascinating anecdotes and lesser known projects. A polycarbonate pavilion – inspired by the pitched roof of a crumbling farm shed in Northumberland and built by the artist while still at university - is a particular illustration of a commitment to small scale innovations transposed onto larger buildings. It’s a beautiful gazebo with sepia-sheer walls and a sweeping, curvilinear structure. Other delights include upholstered furniture inspire by Shar-pei skin, a wooden waveform beachside café in Littlehampton, a post-industrial garden-come-power-station proposed for Teesside, and Bleigiessen (meaning “lead pouring” in German), a watery sculpture built from 150,000 glass beads, suspended in the atrium of the Welcome Trust.

The book also details the origins of the studio’s most iconic creation – the UK Pavilion at the 2010 World Expo in Shanghai. Their first “hairy building” was a 1999 proposed conversion of a WHSmith in Notting Hill, a quirky effort to transform a “tired-looking rectilinear shape”. The motif appeared again that year in a design for an outdoor "sitooterie", or Scottish gazebo, using 5,100 wood staves. They completed a permanent version of the project in 2000, this time using hollow aluminium staves, drawing thousands of points of light into the centre of the building.

In 2007 the studio won the chance to design the UK Pavilion at the World Expo, with one stipulation from the UK government: “When people vote for the best pavilion, make sure that you are in the top five!”. Heatherwick used the opportunity to hack away at outdated English stereotypes and instead reflect “the inventiveness and creativity of many people working in contemporary Britain”. They teamed a re-hashed - and infinitely more elegant - rendition of the “hairy building” with contributions from Kew Gardens’ Millenium Seed Bank. The Seed Cathedral was born. The building - with a façade of clear acrylic tubing, embedded with seeds, glowing by night, visited by over 8 million people - saw the UK take home the gold medal for Pavilion Design at the Expo’s conclusion.

The only sorrow felt while reading Making is that more of these building haven’t been actualised. The model for the glorious Doah Grand Hotel in Qatar sweeps up from the sea like a technocratic volcanic island, while an extraordinary spiralling seashell design proposed for the Great Hall at Windsor Castle (which burnt down in 1992) begs the thought, if only! The studio even pitched a concept for the 1996 Millennium Bridge. Beginning “tight and directional” at the corporate northern end and concluding “wider and more generous” on the shores of the artistic Southbank, the structure undulates open like a drop of ink in water, creating wide public berths. It is, somehow, an even more elegant vision than the Norman Foster/Anthony Caro design that won the space.

If any issue faces this book, then it’s the issue that faces nearly every art book (especially ones which tackle three dimensional subjects), and that is the issue of presentation. Can books, as a format, do justice to works of art designed to be seen in galleries, on screens or in public forums? This particular volume manages to sidestep what could have been a case of poetic injustice. By placing the emphasis on process, rather than result, we read the book for its insight rather than its high impact imagery. If you want to see a Heatherwick in the flesh, go sit along the 38 bus route. But read this book to get under his skin. 

Heatherwick Studio's UK Pavilion at the World Expo in Shanghai, 2010

Charlotte Simmonds is a writer and blogger living in London. She was formerly an editorial assistant at the New Statesman. You can follow her on Twitter @thesmallgalleon.

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Don’t worry, Old Etonian Damian Lewis calls claims of privilege in acting “nonsense!”

The actor says over-representation of the privately educated at the top of acting is nothing to worry about – and his many, many privately educated peers agree.

In the last few years, fears have grown over the lack of working class British actors. “People like me wouldn’t have been able to go to college today,” said Dame Julie Walters. “I could because I got a full grant. I don’t know how you get into it now.”

Last year, a report revealed that half of Britain’s most successful actors were privately educated. The Sutton Trust found that 42 per cent of Bafta winners over all time were educated independently. 67 per cent of British winners in the best leading actor, actress and director categories at the Oscars attended fee-paying schools – and just seven per cent of British Oscar winners were state educated.

“That’s a frightening world to live in,” said James McAvoy, “because as soon as you get one tiny pocket of society creating all the arts, or culture starts to become representative not of everybody but of one tiny part. That’s not fair to begin with, but it’s also damaging for society.”

But have no fear! Old Etonian Damian Lewis is here to reassure us. Comfortingly, the privately-educated successful actor sees no problem with the proliferation of privately-educated successful actors. Speaking to the Evening Standard in February, he said that one thing that really makes him angry is “the flaring up recently of this idea that it was unfair that people from private schools were getting acting jobs.” Such concerns are, simply, “a nonsense!”

He elaborated in April, during a Guardian web chat. "As an actor educated at Eton, I'm still always in a minority," he wrote. "What is true and always rewarding about the acting profession is that everyone has a similar story about them being in a minority."

Lewis’s fellow alumni actors include Hugh Laurie, Tom Hiddleston, Eddie Redmayne – a happy coincidence, then, and nothing to do with the fact that Etonians have drama facilities including a designer, carpenter, manager, and wardrobe mistress. It is equally serendipitous that Laurie, Hiddleston and Tom Hollander – all stars of last year’s The Night Manager – attended the same posh prep school, The Dragon School in Oxford, alongside Emma Watson, Jack Davenport, Hugh Dancy, Dom Joly and Jack Whitehall. “Old Dragons (ODs) are absolutely everywhere,” said one former pupil, “and there’s a great sense of ‘looking after our own’." Tom Hollander said the Dragon School, which has a focus on creativity, is the reason for his love of acting, but that’s neither here nor there.

Damian Lewis’s wife, fellow actor Helen McCrory, first studied at her local state school before switching to the independent boarding school Queenswood Girls’ School in Hertfordshire (“I’m just as happy to eat foie gras as a baked potato,” the Telegraph quote her as saying on the subject). But she says she didn’t develop an interest in acting until she moved schools, thanks to her drama teacher, former actor Thane Bettany (father of Paul). Of course, private school has had literally no impact on her career either.

In fact, it could have had an adverse affect – as Benedict Cumberbatch’s old drama teacher at Harrow, Martin Tyrell, has explained: “I feel that [Cumberbatch and co] are being limited [from playing certain parts] by critics and audiences as a result of what their parents did for them at the age of 13. And that seems to me very unfair.”

He added: “I don’t think anyone ever bought an education at Harrow in order for their son to become an actor. Going to a major independent school is of no importance or value or help at all.” That clears that up.

The words of Michael Gambon should also put fears to rest. “The more Old Etonians the better, I think!” he said. “The two or three who are playing at the moment are geniuses, aren’t they? The more geniuses you get, the better. It’s to do with being actors and wanting to do it; it’s nothing to do with where they come from.”

So we should rejoice, and not feel worried when we read a list of privately educated Bafta and Oscar winners as long as this: Chiwetel Ejiofor (Dulwich College), Emilia Clarke (St Edward’s), Carey Mulligan (Woldingham School), Kate Winslet (Redroofs Theatre School), Daniel Day-Lewis (Sevenoaks School, Bedales), Jeremy Irons (Sherborne School), Rosamund Pike (Badminton), Tom Hardy (Reed), Kate Beckinsale (Godolphin and Latymer), Matthew Goode (Exeter), Rebecca Hall (Roedean), Emily Blunt (Hurtwood House) and Dan Stevens (Tonbridge).

Life is a meritocracy, and these guys were simply always the best. I guess the working classes just aren’t as talented.

Anna Leszkiewicz is a pop culture writer at the New Statesman.

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