Grand Central, Birmingham
Occasionally subjects collide and reverberate on an inward trajectory like the clash of cymbals and more rarely still, light scatters to spotlight a hidden area which would otherwise remain silent. There are other image collections where lens flare plays for attention and its effects are welcome in embedding the physical materials of nature within the frame and extending breathability. There is however, one image in this collection, where like a divine providence its hexagonal haze carries just enough light to detect a crouched figure. Accompanied by shopping trolley and discarded cup his plight remains hidden from the crescent moon that adorns the Premier Inn towering behind the mirrored facade above him.
The Grand Central makes a reckless playground for photographers. The active eye skies the undulating curves and as a proper swimmer the cloud-scape flips to sea, but it’s in reflecting the epoch of the Anthropocene where this recumbent beast excels. There are no other welcome species here only rivers of steel and token foliage clinging on. Like big brother the indefatigable advertising eye stuns its prey into submission, ensnaring the sufficiently solvent into the light-filled atrium to quaff toxic particulates with the fizz.
This aggrandised refurbishment is not without merit though clearly it has been compromised by project management when compared with architect AZPML’s (Alejandro Zaera-Polo and Maider Llaguno) original plan. The concept of a light-filled atrium and stainless steel skin reflecting movement of trains, commuters, shoppers and sky-scape remain integral albeit dumbed down. Nonetheless, its assets radiate liability. Leaving aside the endemic shortfalls of property developers and project management the playful element of this inside out hall of mirrors is heavily tempered by the all too real phantasmagoria contained and revealed. The bigger selfie exposes, a permanently dependent pseudo-apprenticeship, minimum waged, frequently zero hours contract, service economy and perhaps worse yet a complete lack of any other identifiable, sustainable form or life. The ‘We’re transforming Birmingham New Street’ billboards on Navigation Street promises metamorphosis. If only this lumbering mass of concrete and steel had the power to transmute the all too evident narcissistic personality disorder and fill it with light.
