December 15, 2024 - 8:00am

β€œAn orgy of tall buildings will transform and arguably overwhelm London.” These prophetic words were written by the architect Eric Parry, in his 2015 book Context. They now read almost like an admission of guilt, given that Parry will soon be known as the designer of the joint-tallest building in London, and indeed western Europe. On Friday, the City of London’s planning committee approved Parry’s updated designs for 1 Undershaft, a skyscraper in the financial district that will draw level with the Shard at 309.6 metres. This is the maximum height permitted in London to avoid interference with air traffic.

In fairness to Parry, there is not much orgiastic about his building. Its shape is essentially that of four boxes stacked on top of each other, dutifully performing the basic function of a skyscraper: to maximise the floor space β€” and thus the returns to the developer β€” from a given piece of land. This sober profile (modest would be going too far) is the most striking thing about 1 Undershaft. It appears to signal the end of the playful skyscraper in London. Over the last 30 years, the city’s skyline has become littered with flamboyant shapes bearing familiar nicknames: the gherkin, the eye, the walkie-talkie, the electric razor, the cheese grater, the Shard. With Parry’s contribution, no such morphological metaphors spring to mind. It looks like something you might find in a data centre.

This is not the first indication that London’s tall buildings may be heading in a more conservative direction. A few years ago, mayor Sadiq Khan and then-housing secretary Michael Gove both rejected plans for the β€œTulip,” a tower in the form of a glass bud atop a narrow stem. The reasons included environmental wastefulness β€” unlike 1 Undershaft, the Tulip did not provide a lot of office space for its height β€” as well as its outlandish appearance (the proposed shape was instantly compared to a sex toy). When Parry made the first designs for his new skyscraper a decade ago, the City of London reportedly insisted on a simple silhouette.

So maybe the relevant authorities have decided that London’s skyline has enough gimmicks. It doesn’t help that many of these tall structures are uncomfortably crammed together in the eastern part of the City, like overweight bankers in an elevator, so that their forms are barely identifiable in any case. More importantly though, the silly skyscrapers have already performed their role in the transformation of London. By providing a new topography of popular landmarks, they smoothed the process of destroying the city’s character and replacing it with a global real-estate market of anonymous glass and steel.

That process is now far advanced. The approval of 1 Undershaft comes just weeks after the City of London announced that Smithfield meat market, which has existed there for 900 years, will be closed. It is true that the planning committee also on Friday voted to protect the historic Bevis Marks Synagogue from an encroaching tower block, and for this it deserves credit. But the effort to brand 1 Undershaft as some sort of public space, with educational opportunities for β€œschool children and local communities,” should fool no one.

The simple fact is, to quote from Parry’s own book again, β€œthe vexed question of the city skyline and who determines it is ever present because tall buildings are inescapable.” His new tower may not draw attention to itself as ostentatiously as an earlier generation of skyscrapers, but it will stamp the power of his clients onto London’s horizon all the same.


Wessie du ToitΒ writes about culture, design and ideas. His Substack is The Pathos of Things.

wessiedutoit