Retail parks. I’ve had lots of moans about shopping malls –
what they are and what they represent in cultural terms – but I don’t think I’ve
ever taken a bullwhip to the ubiquitous retail park. OK.
The problem with retail parks is that they don’t function as
human spaces because they’re not designed to function that way. They function only
as soulless commercial machines which give us monotonously homogeneous retail units
and as many parking bays as can be squeezed into the space that’s left. That’s
about it, so what don’t they give us?
They don’t give us imaginatively styled buildings with some
variation from one to another. They don’t give us quiet spaces where people can
sit and take their ease between footslogging perambulations around Tesco,
B&Q and Poundstretcher. They don’t give us pedestrian-friendly access –
most of the walkways are laid out to facilitate movement within the park, not
onto it. I’ve found that to get onto them by foot, it’s often necessary to cross
busy main roads, step over barriers, and negotiate banks of ill-maintained shrubs
that are the only inadequate nod to nature. Access is designed for motor
vehicles, not walkers. The three I’m most familiar with don’t even have toilets,
except one that happens to have a store big enough to provide them.
The result of all this is that I find them unpleasant places
to visit, and only do so because the commercial world has consciously shifted
the retail emphasis away from the High Street and effectively left me little
option. Is that good enough? I don’t think so.
No doubt the planners and property developers would tell me
that they have to work on very tight budgets because the cost to return
equation has to maximise profit. Well, let’s ask two questions:
Are we to believe that there are no designers in this
country up to the task of making retail parks more user-friendly within
comparable budgets? I don’t believe that.
What is so wrong with building human experience into the
equation anyway, just because it’s a good thing to do? That’s the big
difference between now and how things used to be back in the days when entrepreneurs
took some pride in the innate value of their structures, and saw it as their
ethical duty to give something back to the community that had made them rich. We’re
perfectly free to change back again if only we could generate the will so to
do.
I hate to admit it, but religion used to provide the primary
prod to condition such a mindset, and conventional religion is all but dead.
Consumption is the new religion, and it obliterates humanity because there’s
nothing humane about rampant consumption.
So I suppose what I’m coming down to with all this is that
the retail park stands as testament to the fact that we need to become
independent of the belief in gods and heavenly rewards – as we mostly have –
but replace it with something other than self-serving pecuniary motivation. We need
to recognise that the human animal is an important component of society just
because it is. Then, maybe, profit could become the servant instead of the
master.
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