Visions of Urban Mobility

The concept of limited access highways in the city could be considered as the epitome of modernity; reflecting the ever increasing speed of everyday life and the distancing of individuals from communities (cf. Simmel, Tönnies). Separation from contact with the landscape and its effect on space-time relationships creates a new spatiality (see Augé, 1995). While laying concrete across the countryside over such huge areas is dramatic enough, the building of highways through and over whole neighbourhoods in the city has to be one of the most significant actions ever taken in altering the urban landscape. The elevated highway project opens up the possibility of a completely new perception of the city, from above and at speed. The Westway, opened in 1970, is a two and a half-mile long elevated highway linking the centre of London with the west of England route to Oxford. I will discuss the space of the Westway in three particular ways; firstly as a modernist marker, symbolic of prevailing national urban aspirations, secondly as autonomous, machinic entity and thirdly as cinematic experience. My intention is to demonstrate that the visualities developed in “reading” the Westway as text cannot adequately describe the meaning of the spaces and that the material surface and form, with its “invisible” means of production and the sensually visual qualities of the cinematic experience of moving through the city are equally important in contributing to our understanding of urban spaces of mobility. “I gazed down at this immense motion sculpture, whose deck seemed almost higher than the balcony rail against which I leaned. I began to orientate myself again around its reassuring bulk, its familiar perspectives of speed, purpose and direction.” (Ballard, Crash 1995: 48) The Westway, opened in 1970, is a two and a half mile long elevated highway linking the centre of London with the west of England route to Oxford, stretching from White City, Shepherds Bush to Marylebone Road, close to Regents Park (see fig. 1). The idea of developing the Westway as a major route in and out of London to the west of England goes back at least to the 1920s. But it was the scheme developed by one of the most important planners of the twentieth century, Patrick Abercrombie, that showed the integral role the Westway was to play in a network of major roads in London. Abercrombie’s County of London Plan (1943) proposed three orbital ringways with twelve or so radial roads connecting them (see fig. 2 ). This proposal survived remarkably intact in the schemes advanced by the LCC (subsequently renamed the GLC) road planners in the 1960s and early 1970s. The GLC’s highway proposals were that these roads, most entirely new, would all be more or less motorway standard with limited points of access. The Westway was conceived as one of the radial roads, linking central London oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMO with Ringway 1, the innermost of the orbital roads dubbed the “London Motorway Box”, continuing out to connect with Ringways 2 and 3. From its inception as a State sponsored project, situated within the prevailing modernist hegemony, the Westway has been understood in entirely different ways by those involved in its creation as a technical and aesthetic object, those whose environment it came to blight and those who may experience it as a site of cinematic reference. “Precariously situated on the intellectual meridian between the disciplines of architecture, geography, urban planning, landscape design, and traffic management, the freeway occupies an ambiguous status within the branches of knowledge devoted to the study of modern space.” (Dimendberg, The will to motorization: cinema, highways and modernity, 1995 p.93) The concept of limited access highways in the city could be considered as the epitome of modernity; reflecting the ever increasing speed of everyday life and the distancing of individuals from communities. Separation from contact with the landscape and its effect on space-time relationships creates a new spatiality (see Augé 1995). The everyday view through the car windscreen, as we speed along a motorway, has become a universal way of experiencing town and country, explored and appropriated by literature and film to express ideas of freedom and rebellion (Croft 1999). While laying concrete across the countryside over such huge areas is dramatic enough, the building of highways through and over whole neighbourhoods in the city has to be one of the most significant actions ever taken in altering the urban landscape. The elevated highway project opens up the possibility of a completely new perception of the city, from above and at speed. I will discuss the space of the Westway in three particular ways; firstly as a modernist marker, symbolic of prevailing national urban aspirations, secondly as autonomous, machinic entity and thirdly as cinematic experience. Firstly I will look at how the Westway was used as a “canvas” against which the existing fabric and social systems of the city would be judged. In considering the Westway as a “modernist marker”, I will discuss the difference between professional intentions and aspirations in terms of its design in the context of the city and the response, both public and professional, to its impact on completion. Paradoxically, the Westway was and still is perceived, as I hope to demonstrate, to have a certain autonomy, an independent architectural “life” of its own. So secondly, I will discuss the mechanistic characteristics the structure has been ascribed that position the Westway as more than an icon of rational modernism. The way in which one moves through the landscape, or cityscape, is fundamental to cultural understanding (Daniels 1996) and the changes in the mode of movement over the last 150 years have radically and permanently altered the relationship between body and land (see Schivelbusch 1980). Lastly, in an attempt to define and position the experience of the Westway, following Baudelaire’s (1863) ephemeral, filmic characterisation of modernity, I will discuss the cinematic experience of the city. My intention is to demonstrate that the visualities developed in “reading” the Westway as text cannot adequately describe the meaning of the spaces and that the material surface and form, with its “invisible” means of production and the sensually visual qualities of the cinematic experience of moving through the city are equally important in contributing to our understanding of urban spaces of mobility. Visualities: Westway as modernist marker It is worth examining the idea of “modern” in more detail in setting out the understanding of the term by which the Westway may be judged. Clearly, every generation lives in “modern” times by comparison to oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMP what has gone before. The definition, and periodization, of “modernity” as the condition of being modern and the relationship of modernism as the manifestation of modernity has been widely contested (Gold 1997). The early social theorist Georg Simmel identified the changing and problematic relationships in the metropolis as exemplifying “modernity” (Simmel 1903). He reflected on the anxiety brought about as a result of the physically close but socially distant individuals in the crowds in the city. A blasé attitude would provide protection from the constant stimuli, not only of the crowd but also from the noisy and fast modes of transport and the increasing pace of life. By reading the Westway as a text, that is symbolic and imbued with meaning, I follow what has become a more or less hegemonic approach in cultural geography (see Cosgrove, 1989; Crang, 1998; Mitchell, 2000; Monk). Particular built forms have been “read” as symbolic of power and cultural identity (see Domosh 1999; Duncan 1993; Pryke 2002), such a reading of the Westway landscape as ideological and as representing social relations is enabled by studying contemporary sources such as engineers’ reports, professional journals, periodicals and newspapers and the images produced to accompany the written texts. In this way I intend to demonstrate the broader public view as well as the less widely circulated views of professionals although both are implicated in forming as well as recording views. But, the visualities that are developed through “reading” the Westway as text are contingent not only on knowledge that is not always readily available or accessible but also contingent on the position of the “reader” and I will return to this later in considering other ways in which the Westway may be understood and experienced. The promotion of Westway as technologically innovative and socially, economically and culturally advantageous The Westway should be understood as forming part of the desire to position Britain as a progressive, technologically advanced, that is both modern and modernist, society in mid-twentieth century is evidenced in the press reports of the time. The Westway was promoted as “Europe’s longest elevated highway” in the captions and accompanying text of newspaper and journal articles, especially in the early months and years of the project. The technically innovative methods of construction are fêted in the professional journals as well as in the popular press (see figs. 3, 4). The message of “science saving money” through the project to control traffic by computer, with one central controller, is accompanied by the statement that Britain “leads the world in traffic control” (Moir & McDonough 10.06.67, see fig. 5). Claims of British superiority were stretched to make favourable comparisons of the levels of pollution in London over New York due to the progressive thinking of British car manufacturers (Grigg, 28.07.70; Leith, 30.07.70 see fig. 6). There is a sense of a desire to become pre-eminent in new scientific territories to position London as a post-imperial contender amongst European cities. In the booklet published by the GLC (1966) to mark the start of work on the Westway much emphasis is given to the innovative technical solutions to structural problems and the use of specially designed computer programmes to calculate the size of supports. The description of the project as “bold and imaginative” is used but it is the technical detail that is given prominence in the text. The level of detail requires considerable engineering knowledge to be fully understood so there is a sense here of trying to impress and possibly obfuscate through scientific detail, thus exemplifying modernist tropes. Monsieur A Saccasyn, the Inspector-General of the Administration of Highways in Belgium (also a former colonial power) was invited by the GLC to officiate at the start of work ceremony. Again the desire to oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMQ establish Britain in the forefront of progressive projects could be showcased to an important visitor from mainland Europe, adding to the status of the project. Through the promotion of the Westway as providing social, economic and cultural advantages by comparison to its context both locally and nationally, the project was characterised as fast, efficient, cost effective, progressive and exhilarating. The Westway, as a remedy for hazardous and time-consuming journeys, was completed “on time” (Laing, 29.07.70). The nerve shattering 40 minute journey from Shepherds Bush to Marylebone was now reduced to 4-5 minutes (Perkins & Mepham, September 1970) and the Westway was dubbed the 3 minute motorway (The Times (T), 29.07.70). But London was not considered by many architects and planners to be in the same league as Paris and Brussels; there had been no state sponsored radical remodelling projects for the city such as those by Haussman in Paris and Leopold II in Brussels (Driver and Gilbert, 1998). The positioning of Tower Bridge, completed in 1894 and adopted as a symbol of the imperial city, in spite of its very obvious pastiche reference to historical models (ibid.) provides an interesting contrast to the attempted establishment of the Westway as equally emblematic at the time of its inception; the sculptural, “honest” structure possible through the great advances in technology was nothing like as successful as the “sham” Tower Bridge. Reports on the Westway around the time of its opening and in the subsequent two or three years demonstrate varying levels of endorsement. The improved radial routes, connecting to the major crosscountry motorways, was enthusiastically welcomed by some commentators (Wilkins 1972), aligning the potential of the “three-ring motorway”, put forward by Abercrombie in his 1944 Greater London Plan (not acknowledged by Wilkins here) with the Boulevard Périphérique in Paris. In doing this Wilkins makes the link to a continental lifestyle by mentioning a number of Parisian public spaces and thus draws comparisons between London and European cities as a means of promoting the project to avoid “condemning us to bump along behind our European neighbours” (ibid. p.31). This desire to prove that Britain was at least equal to other European nations comes at a time when Britain’s entry to the EEC had been turned down twice by a French veto. Professional response and public understanding There is little documentary evidence of public response to the initial proposals and this is, I would suggest, symptomatic of the lack of communication between those few in a position to make decisions and the many who would live with the results of those decisions. The problems of communication, the “unintelligibility” of the forms, were the cause of considerable problems that exacerbated the protests that came to a head at the opening of the Westway in July 1970. The timing of the Westway project coincided with an accelerated public awareness of the environmental impact of urban projects of this scale and the future plans for more of the same. This awareness was matched by the growth of “platforms” from which public opinion could be voiced, both through official and unofficial channels. The traditional distinctions of communities were dissolving and new and changing allegiances were forming. The Westway exemplified the problematics of applying “rationalist” design that was blamed for the loss of street life, the segregation of communities, social isolation and the “ambiguities of control in semi-public space” (Gold, 1997: 4). The nature of modern architecture has been criticised as “anti-septic” and “anti-community” due to the lack of familiarity of its surface detail (Booker & Lycett Green 1973). However, this characterisation depends on the conflation of notions of familiarity with community and in any case familiarity usually oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMR develops over time. What is implied, then, has more to do with the intricacy of detail and the proximity from which it is perceived. There was a prevailing desire for clean, simple forms in the construction of civil (roads, bridges etc.) and architectural projects (see Architects Journal, 10.12.59), demonstrated in the popular press with the Westway described as the “test-bed” for planners studying the impact of the car on the densely woven fabric of the city (St. Marylebone and Paddington Mercury (SMPM), 13.09.68; Wilcox, 23.07.70; and other national and local press). The collage image of the Westway as a white strip laid on the aerial photograph emphasises the idea of a pure clean path being applied to a messy background; in this case the existing fabric of the city providing the “canvas” (see fig. 4). However, the accompanying commentary conveys a sense of caution and wariness; the breakthroughs through the use of technologically advanced equipment are noted but potential future traffic chaos as the highway is opened in 1970 and the dominant scale of the structure are raised as problematic. The “problem” of reconciling the road with its environment was a social issue, not an aesthetic one, at the time and seems to have been ignored in spite of reports acknowledging that the dominance of the road would be “conspicuous” (Maunsell, 1963, 1964). Landscape schemes for the open areas to either side and below were not considered until a few weeks before the motorway construction was due to be completed (Baxter, Lee & Humphries, 1972). The ICE Journal article concentrates on the construction of the main structure setting out the problems to be solved and the solutions that were employed (ibid.). The tone of the piece is that mathematics solved the problems leaving no areas of doubt. The tree planting carried out through Ministry funding worked to offset the dominant parallel lines of the motorway by the curved planting arrangements. Later, the engineers, who had such a significant role in the design of the structure, claimed they were waiting for ideas to emerge from organisations such as the Motorway Development Trust (Thaxton & Gray, July 1970). The extraordinary lack of early consultation was the cause of much of the trouble that ensued. The road had been inflicted on the residents with apparently very little communication, or discussion, as to how it would be constructed and what the implications were for those living nearby (see Lovell & Morgan 1971). The question of transition in scale between the high speed, high level motorway and the existing pedestrian landscape at the ground level street were only considered once the structure was built. In the same way that the modes of movement were segregated, it is clear that there were a number of different organisations, with equally disparate agendas, that were in the position of reconciling motorway and existing landscape. There is a great contrast between the 1966 booklet published at the early ceremony and that produced for the opening of the Westway four years later (GLC, 1970 see fig. 7). By this stage there was a very vocal and visible level of protest against the project and the small leaflet is very brief. It shows a plan with no context and “not to scale”, an artist’s impression from a raised viewpoint, a programme for the day and a list of credits. The barest facts are given and no grand claims are made. There is a strong impression of a desire by the GLC to distance itself from the project. This is hardly surprising given that by the time the Westway opened on July 28th 1970 it “became news, a story of protest, not progress; a story which was given the coverage of a national scandal not a national event.” (Lovell & Morgan, 1971 p.13) It would seem that the pressure of prolonged contact with reality had finally collided with the abstract ideals of rationalist thinking. Deciphering the promotional imagery of the Westway was not a process that the general public undertook and the implications only became apparent at its completion. The proximity of the new elevated road to some streets, notably Acklam Road just twenty feet from the elevated roadway (see fig. 8), and the oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMS resulting desperate pleas from the residents to be re-housed set up another, political, testing ground, characterised by a lack of decision making. The noise problem was not understood and although the GLC was “acutely aware” of the problem created for people living in close proximity to the new road, there was a serious housing shortage at the time and sometimes, it was claimed, there was no alternative to re-house residents (GLDP Inquiry, July 1971). The GLC left the houses, not specifically covered by Government compensation rules relating to proximity to the road, to see how things would develop. The imperative of efficiency through flow of traffic meant that the fastest modes of transport were prioritised. The segregation of the different modes was the rational next step as the architect Erno Goldfinger advocated in his response to Abercrombie’s plan (see figs. 9, 10). But in the execution of this plan slower moving vehicles and humans were neglected. The experience of time-space compression would be different for the various groups and networks on and around the Westway. This divergence in experience was exacerbated by the extent to which information was perceived to have been issued and received, both in terms of detail and timing (Lovell & Morgan, 1971). The diverse mobilities across these networks was a symptom of this area, run down after years of neglect from private landlords. In the decade or so preceding the construction of the Westway, the area of North Kensington and Notting Hill became the first home in London for a generation of immigrants from the West Indies. Exploited by unscrupulous landlords and living in poor and overcrowded conditions, the situation reached crisis point in 1958 when race riots erupted in Notting Hill, sparked by gangs of white youths roaming the streets attacking black residents and their property (Duncan, 1992). In response, and over the next few years, a number of community action networks were set up giving an unprecedented channel for debate and the potential to influence decision making. Previously the disparate and transient nature of the various communities had worked against any organised presence. At the opening ceremony for the Westway, George Clark, who set up the Golborne Social Rights Committee (see Clark, 07.08.70), was successful in being heard to protest at the plight of those affected by the construction and proximity of the new road (T 29.07.70). Protesters, carrying banners interrupted the ribbon cutting on the road and more protesters shouted from the banner covered roof-tops of Acklam Road. The connection between humans and structure had been all but invisible up to this point; the visible and audible presence of the protesters finally exposing years of suffering. Subsequently, criticism and sympathy was voiced in the popular press and from a range of professionals questioning the value of transport policy at the expense of human needs (Mason, July 1970). So this modernist “marker” can be seen as anti-monument, full of meaning only to those who commissioned it. Invisibilities: Westway as autonomous “machine” Through the engagement with the Westway as architectural space it is also possible to understand the structure as material presence, constructed, materialised and realised through the processes of a number of different assemblages of actants, both human and non-human. The movements of humans and machines are embodied in the production and activation of space. As we have seen the project was described by the engineers as being achieved in a “bold and imaginative manner” (Maunsell, 1963 p.3); an urban motorway connecting the A40 Trunk Road direct to Marylebone Road with an interchange of this section of the motorway box and the Westway itself described as a “diamond-shaped roundabout”. This descriptor was also used by the press and is indicative of the value with which the GLC hoped to imbue the project. oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMT The roundabout is strikingly large and completely curved (not diamond-shaped), emphasised by being raised and forming further curves through the shadows cast. One of the official photographs issued for Britain’s information services shows this roundabout from a height (Central Office of Information, 19651970, see sketch fig. 11). The bright sunshine and strong shadows contribute to emphasise the sculptural quality of the structure and it appears as a huge three dimensional object on the landscape, set as it was then in a wasteland of construction site. The area of the interchange represented the greatest architectural potential “diagrammatically poised above ground level to generate a natural climax to the whole scheme...the character of the structure determined by its mass and shape requires the avoidance of obstructive architectural detail and the adoption of flowing lines, smooth concrete surfaces...” (Maunsell, 1963 p.11). The description suggests a grandeur of structure that demands respect. The separation of the Westway, through having its own identity reinforced by the clear contrast of its form against the largely neglected and decaying fabric of the area west of Paddington, allowed it a certain privileged status which diffused criticism and initially imbued the project with the power of improving the experience of the city and thus improving the city, London, and enhancing its status in Europe and beyond. In considering the Westway as animated and mechanistic, further questions arise as to the relationship of machine to the body and the body to the city; the mimetic characteristics of the structure and the occasional symbiosis of human and non-human actants suggests that the Westway is neither purely machinic, nor is it simply the product of human labour, rather it may be seen in some way as “cyborg” (see Haraway, 1991) The progress of construction, as photographed, is almost magical in the sequence of images seemingly developing with no human intervention (see also Merrimen, 2001 for a discussion on the magical visual development of the M1 as seen from the air). The well-publicised use of advanced technology and the highly mechanised process of construction for the motorway emphasised the separation of the human body, in terms of labour, and the growing structure. As we have seen before, great emphasis is given to the technologically advanced equipment used; new methods for lifting, compaction and travelling scaffolding (Contract Journal, 21.07.66). However, I could not find any image in the popular or professional press showing a human working on the construction of the Westway, giving the impression that all labour is mechanical and somehow controlled remotely. This is in marked contrast to the cinematically recorded progress of Hitler’s Autobahns in Germany from 1933, where the representation of labour was a key function (Dimendberg, 1995). The single image I found showing human bodies close to the construction of the Westway is of a young Prince Charles (St Marylebone Mercury, 19.7.68 see fig. 12), talking to the contractor’s representative with the resident engineer standing beside, all in front of the heavy formwork and scaffolding used for temporary works in the construction. The juxtaposition of the be-suited VIPs, fragile flesh and blood against the backdrop of heavy robust “machinery” reinforces the separation of human and machine. All the people present have their hands hidden and are wearing hard hats giving a strong impression of looking but not touching. Murals were added to the massive structure, a few years after it was completed, showing labouring bodies in front of huge cogs (Mercury 16.9.77 see fig.13). The murals, in literally applying the imagery to the structure, play an ambiguous role in re-connecting body and machine at the same time as reinforcing the narrative of separation of mind and body. oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMU The American engineer and factory owner, Frederick W Taylor, conceived of the body both as a productive force and as a political instrument whose energies could be subjected to scientifically designed systems of organisation (see Braverman, 1974). The classical traditions of the nineteenth century and the radical ideologies of the early twentieth century shared the belief that human society is ultimately predicated on the unlimited capacity to produce and that this “social imperative” mirrored nature’s own unlimited capacity for production. The labouring body was seen as the site of exchange between nature and society. The dynamic language of energy was central to many utopian social and political ideologies of the early twentieth century including Taylorism, bolshevism and fascism and so the metaphor of the human motor translated revolutionary scientific discoveries about physical nature into a new vision of social modernity (Rabinbach, 1990). There is clearly a tension here between the real and representational bodies through the manifestations of power relations and through practice and performance. Other meanings can be revealed by considering bodily action, that is, spatial practices, but that is for another paper. Sensual visions: Westway as cinematic experience Another perception of the Westway is one that explores ideas of imaginary space. Our perceptions of space are already influenced by representations received through the media of print and screen. The virtual imagery that is produced through this mediation forms further fragments of our understanding. I want to move now to consider the vivid, ephemeral, cinematic experience of the Westway in relation to studies that have been carried out on representing mobile visions. What I wish to discuss here is the sensuality of cinematic vision. Highway spaces have received little attention from architects or cultural geographers but may well turn out to be amongst the most significant spaces experienced in the twentieth and twenty first centuries: “Arguably as significant to post-1930 cinema as the street and the railroad were to those earlier films engaged in charting a centralized and navigable centripetal space, cinematic representations of the motorway remain far less studied than filmic treatments of the metropolis.” (Dimendberg, 1995 p.93) Perceptions of the relationship of body to land have changed through altered modes of transport. The “blurring” of the foreground with increased speed privileges the distant view and ultimately leads to a reliance on the panoramic view, an indiscriminate but discrete overview, for an understanding of landscape (Schivelbusch, 1980). This, together with the desire to make sense of the multiplying fragments of the metropolis, make the elevated urban highway a particularly fascinating space to study. With rail travel, the body and transporter are separated. On the other hand, the sense of synchronicity between car and driver draws them together to act as one and this has a profound effect on the perception of power and control within the environment that the action takes place. This immediacy and responsibility for the “performance” of driving has the paradoxical effect of increasing the sense of living the moment as well as empowerment and a sense of half-dreaming (captured by Petit and Sinclair in their film “London Orbital”, 2002 by long mesmerising stretches of real-time footage driving along the motorway), whereby there is some control of the choreography but also not knowing what will come next. In the cinema we have some of the same experience; we generally know something about what we are going to see, there is frequently an inevitability about the outcome and we expect to be “transported” to the time and place of the action. The cinema provides a heightening of our awareness through the careful editing of the film and the lack of other stimuli. There are clearly a number of levels on which the oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PMV experience of driving and watching a film are similar, in particular the viewpoint looking forward and the rushing images (Merrimen 2001), but representing the experience has remained elusive. The shifting view points in motion, sequential visions, were identified by the architect Gordon Cullen, in 1947, as the potential tools with which to study town-scapes and his development of this different visual sensitivity, “serial vision”, was widely published (Gosling, 1996). Cullen’s work was a development of the notion of space and time by Sigfried Giedion and the idea of simultaneous, fragmented and multiple vision seen in the work of the Cubist and Futurist painters and sculptors (ibid.) and following the work of artists, such as Moholy-Nagy and others in the 1920s and 30s, who were experimenting with the idea of capturing the sensation of the mobile observer. Cullen presented his studies as series’ of evocative sketches (see for example fig. 14). The sequences of images could be seen as having a similar role to story boards for films. With the aim of providing designers of highways with a guide of how to capitalise on the dynamic characteristics of driving, Appleyard, Lynch and Myer (1964) took Cullen’s ideas a step further by representing the existing and proposed “events” along a highway by a set of notations (see fig. 15). Their work removes the reader from the experience of the road as the language of the notation takes time to translate and the process is analytical rather than creative. However, in their analysis Appleyard, Lynch and Myer identify the characteristics of driving that are similar to film sequences: the melting of one scene into another, one view disappearing before another is set up, echoes and hints of past and future views, sudden transitions and connecting links (Appleyard, Lynch & Myer, 1964). These are the characteristics that they promote as the “meat and drink of highway design” (ibid. p.18). Two of my earliest experiences of driving the Westway, about ten years after it was completed, involved injuries to the car I was driving; the first when a lorry moved over from its lane into mine and kept on moving, tearing into the metal all along my side, the second when I had to stop on the most elevated part of the road due to a puncture: both terrifying and somehow out of my control. Having to stop on this place of continual movement felt dangerous but it was also as if I was stepping out of one spatial experience into another, much like stepping out of the cinema screen to take on the role of viewer rather than actor. The contrast of experience between driving the Westway and viewing it from outside is absolute. In Chris Petit’s film Radio On (1979), the main protagonist arrives in Bristol on the flyover that passes the hotel where he later spends time. We see the hotel first as a facade, later as a place for possible intimacy and finally as a voyeur from the flyover again, with the hero and a woman he has befriended framed in two windows. This sequence of views steps in and out of knowing and not knowing the spaces. The same can be said for the journey along the Westway. There is a distance to the city from the elevated section allowing an overview but a closeness to the spaces on descending that positions you right back into the present time. The “hero” of Radio On travels from London to Bristol to find out what has happened to his brother. His journey starts on the Westway, on a rainy night with lights reflected on the wet tarmac. The journey is long; he encounters a series of individuals on the way. There is very little dialogue with those he meets on his journey emphasising their different and fragmented life experiences. There is a sense of alienation between people but a connection with the landscape through which he passes. Petit acknowledged that the film is about communication and the mismatch of language in a world full of methods of communication (Dick, 1997). The selective use of sounds from the cityscape and the music that oçÄÉêíëçåW=sáëáçåë=çÑ=rêÄ~å=jçÄáäáíó= fåíÉêå~íáçå~ä=pìããÉê=^Å~ÇÉãó=çå=qÉÅÜåçäçÖó=píìÇáÉë=Ó=rêÄ~å=fåÑê~ëíêìÅíìêÉ=áå=qê~åëáíáçå= PNM accompanies his journey contribute to the spatial experience and alter the indiscriminate nature of the overview epitomised in the “panoramic view” that Schivelbusch (1980) describes. This use of sound to add another dimension is also found in the film Two or Three Things I Know about Her by Jean-Luc Godard (1966-67) and in Patrick Keiller’s (1994) film London, both films concerned with an understanding of the condition of the city. In the use of brilliant solid colour (see Branigan, 1976-77) and the effort to hear the aurally taxing soundtrack, Godard intensifies the senses of sight and hearing. Keiller achieves something similar by the use of very long shots throughout and a careful narration. The peripheral “actors” of still and moving, close and distant, loud and soft, bright and dark fragments combine in these films to replicate the experience of driving the highway. Architecture is about the experience of being surrounded whereas “film, by and large, is an experience of sitting and looking at something which is over there and not very big in field-of-vision terms but more about the event than architecture” (Keiller, interviewed by Barwell, 1997 p.163). So although architecture is made of fragments, I suggest the Westway is filmic in the celebration of its eventfulness and thereby provides the possibility to continually re-imagine the city. ConclusionsThe notion of the Westway as a modernist “marker” is counteracted in some ways by considering its partin the post-urban city (see Ellin, 1996; Vidler, 1999; Wilson, 1991). If we take on the idea that the post-urban city is understood through the various ways it is represented rather than one defining reality(Chaplin & Holding, 2002 and many others), then I believe it is important to look at some of thoserepresentations to explore ways of understanding the city. The “transparency” of contemporaryarchitecture and the difficulty in distinguishing historical monuments from their “glossy reproductions”(Vidler, 1999 and see Massey, 1995) confuses our reading of the city. The experience of driving across thecity at high-level is already removed from all but the visual experience and the kinaesthetic sensation. Thedistant visions, architectural realisation and social concerns inform an understanding of the Westway butthe kinetic experience of movement in the city enacted in many different ways has the potential to definethe individual’s relationship with the spaces of the city and “It is only through spatial practices which traceout the city, which map-make it, that the experiences of haunting and of desire can be discerned” (Pile,2002 p.214). ReferencesAdams, J. 1982. Motorways in London: from Abercrombie to Archway. Town and Country Planning,December 1982 pp.312-315. Appleyard, D., Lynch, K & Myer, J.R. 1964. The View from the Road, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.Architects Journal 1959. Prestressed Concrete Elevated Roadway Competition First Prize-WinningDesign. December 1