Concrete Jumble: how Nottingham could reinvent itself ready for an ever-evolving future

When the Broadmarsh Shopping Centre was built just fifty years ago, the idea that in a mere number of decades it would sit in ruins was pretty much unthinkable to local people. 

For city planners of the 1970s, an era of brutal redevelopment, the gargoyles and gables of the Victorian times were out. Deemed unfit for a modern city, the tight winding roads and crowded buildings of Drury Hill and the wider Broad Marsh quarter had given way for a concrete monolith of commerce. Historic conservation and how cities might operate far in the future was a problem for another time. This was the future. In an age of space races, early sci-fi and progressive liberation movements, the excitement of modernity led to streamline design and a stripping away of the past, and Nottingham was not immune.

It’s easy to see how the craze for shopping malls caught on. During its early years, the Broadmarsh Centre was the first of its kind in Nottingham - the destination of the day, offering ease and variety, much like the internet does today. Shoppers hungry for novelty and cosmopolitan goods could find fashion and furniture at British Home Stores, try American-style fast food at Wimpy, and pick up the latest electrical mod cons at Currys, all under one roof, out of the way of the precarious British weather.

Fifty years later, faced with its demise, the derelict Broadmarsh is now a symbol of changing times, reminding us that most things will move on and even the most familiar and well loved high street brands are susceptible to falling. Nottingham is certainly not unique in this aspect - throughout the UK, COVID lockdowns, the boom of online shopping, rising rents and market dominance from monopolies such as Amazon have made the sturdy tradition of bricks and mortar retail incredibly difficult. The past five years saw Britain lose 6,000 retail outlets according to the British Retail Consortium. Like old friends passing away, the loss of brands like Woolworths, Topshop, Debenhams, and most recently Wilkos (RIP) exemplify how the high street has begun to crumble before our eyes. And while empty single units are perhaps easier to fill, the question of what we do with our shopping centres is still one to figure out.

Surprisingly, the first shopping centre in England still exists today. Dating back to the sixteenth century, The Royal Exchange, situated near Bank in London, was opened by Queen Elizabeth I herself. Featuring Corinthian columns and stone friezes, it is worlds apart from the sprawling modern mortar structures we are familiar with, and despite having seen its own destruction a couple of times throughout the centuries, it has been lovingly rebuilt with the same craftsmanship and pride of its first structure. Would modern architecture, purely focussed on frugality and function over historic grandeur or longevity, receive the same treatment? 

And so, as many agree, city planners of the 1970s have a lot to answer for. Many in Nottingham still comment with ire on the demolition of The Black Boy Hotel, Long Row’s intricate Watson Fothergill building which was replaced by the concrete eyesore that now houses Primark. But with those architects gone before they could answer for their crimes, there’s little use in looking back in anger. Instead, we need to peer into tomorrow and work out what our cities need, both now and in the future. 

As councils and landlords desperately try to come up with ways to fill our empty city spaces, the need for investment is, of course, a constant elephant in the room. Nottingham has received about £100 million less each year from central government over the past ten years, so while we wait for a fabled wealthy benefactor to look upon Nottingham with sympathy, perhaps it’s worth identifying renovation and regeneration that has worked in the past, in both Nottingham and beyond.

Over the past fifteen years, Nottingham resident Rob Howie Smith successfully transformed a number of dilapidated buildings into creative spaces in the city through The Howie Smith Project. These once-empty buildings include much loved spots such as Five Leaves Bookshop, City Arts, The Arts Org (now Hopkinson’s Vintage, Antiques and Arts Centre), and The Writer’s Studio (now The Carousel).

Rob’s approach to combat empty spaces follows what he calls ‘meanwhile’ use - getting people in - most often creatives and small businesses - allowing them to work with relatively affordable rent, whilst also demonstrating how the space can be used.

When the Council called for ideas on what to do with the Broadmarsh area, Rob’s suggestion followed the approach taken by Boxpark, the world’s first pop-up shopping mall in Shoreditch, London, which has now taken over spaces in seven other spots, from Birmingham to Bristol. Combining independent traders in fashion, arts, food and drinks with regular events, these small scale units, created from shipping containers, allow an adaptable space for start-ups that can be dismantled or rejigged according to what is needed at the time, along with offering flexible rental contracts that range from one week to three months.

“If you create something which you can then move, you can take it somewhere else when you’re ready to use that space when you have the funding,” says Rob. “You can look at lots of other models in the country - containers being used, yurts, timber structures, you have open spaces for performance, weekly pop-ups etc.”

An idea built on the premise that cities are ever-evolving, it also recognises the value of artistic communities, who are traditionally adaptable, creative and well-versed in making a lot out of very little. 

Over in Budapest, Hungary, the trend of ‘ruin bars’ has reinvigorated the once crumbling Jewish quarter. In overgrown courtyards and run down tenements, these multi-use spaces are chaotic and creative, with pop-up libraries, markets and workshops throughout the day and DJs and live music in the evening. Most definitely a mark of the people living there, they’ve also gained a reputation for attracting tourists from across the world.

The concept of ‘meanwhile space’ can however be a double edged sword. In most cases these creative ‘bohemias’ created by artists, such as Soho or New York’s Greenwich Village, inadvertently lead to gentrification and subsequent higher costs.

“We’re very aware of gentrification, and we can’t stop it,” says Rob. “If it costs £100,000 to make a building workable again, you’ve got to make that £100,000 back. But we slowed it down by using those buildings in the interim when the costs weren’t so high. If a landlord was saying ‘I’m not able to rent my space, I don’t know what to do with it’, then we were saying, ‘Well we do.’”

Whether what worked in cities like London or Budapest can be successful in Nottingham is of course a gamble, but the traditional format of department stores, shopping centres and big retail is unlikely to come back any time soon. What is clear to see is that we need to rethink our urban jungles, create cities of the future that work for the people who live in them, rather than the faceless corporations and landlords who offer little more than empty space.