"Art produces ugly things which frequently become beautiful with time." Jean Cocteau

South ramp, Cumbernauld Town Centre, during final days of Phase 2 demolition

During a recent period of research in London, I stayed at a friend's flat in the Barbican. It was quiet at night, well placed for early work, a model of functional availability. It was a Time/Life magazine fantasy of businesslike vectors, crisp communications, financial infrastructure and utilitarian technocracy. Looking out over Golden Lane Estate I felt strangely at home. This wasn't altogether due to the science-fiction Alphaville elements of my surroundings, although that added a layer of warmth to my perceptions.
Deeper was a sense of familiarity, of belonging, both at the level of the apartment and of the layout of the district. The design of the split-level flat was a close echo of the house I lived in between the ages of 9 and 15. I grew up in Cumbernauld.

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