LondonistIn Pictures: The Lucky Few Who Live In The Barbican
Ever wondered what it'd be like to live on the Barbican Estate?
We visited one family at their Barbican home a few years back, and such is the envy-tinged intrigue of those who wish they had an apartment in the iconic brutalist complex, an entire book now hops from door to door, meeting the lucky so-and-sos who call the Barbican home.
Barbican Residents: Inside the Iconic Brutalist Estate does what it says on the tin; a glossy, magazine-style glimpse into these gold-dust apartments, with their chunky concrete balconies, vintage quirks and flourish of mid-century furniture.
This is more than a mere peek through the keyhole from photographer Anton Rodriguez; it lets us see how so many more people could have been living right now, had all post-war estates been built with the passion — and subsequently cherished over the decades — as the Barbican has.
As Olivia Laing writes in the foreword to this book, "I love how everything is designed with a kind of elegant, Heath Robinson-ish efficiency, from the rubbish cupboard to the shipshape Brooke Marine kitchen, originally created for a yacht. But more than that, I love the way the Barbican embodies a kind of vision of public generosity that is becoming vanishingly rare."
Just 4,000 Londoners have the fortune to call the Barbican home, and a handful of these fling open the doors, windows and kitchen hatches to show you a snippet of their lives in this book, as well as discussing all the unique little traits of living on the estate, from the Garchey waste disposal system to the 'universal key'.
Says one resident, Max: "The Barbican key, known as the 'Magic Key', is entrusted only to those who live here. It takes you beyond the estate's public realm into the areas where the daily lives of the Barbican community traverse, convene and unwind in private." The rest of us can only dream of possessing such a passport.
"Sometimes it reminds me of a university or a monastery," writes Olivia Laing about the Barbican, "but more often of a beehive, a place where the communal is still prized. It's made to be shared, built to be delighted in – from the reading pods in the lake, festooned with jasmine, to the sofas in the concourse, where I have often seen a weary person permit themselves a private sleep.
"I'd like the whole world to be built on these terms, but for now, let's cherish the Barbican and what it means."
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