I've lived
in Deptford 20 years
and witnessed first
hand the "height"
of its
dereliction and its
current rebirth as
a "Des Res."
In 1991, on the eve
of
billions being spent
on regeneration,
I started to video
what had been left
to rot for decades
and before the large
scale clearances,
new builds,
face-lifts and new
transport links utterly
transformed the experience
of
being a Deptfordian.
Key to its old
reputation as "Dirty
Deptford" was
"The Light"
- the fond
name for the huge
coal powered station
and the area's largest
employer in
living memory. At
its zenith, Deptford,
not Battersea, was
London's largest
power station, comprising
of Sebastian de Ferranti's
original power station
(the first AC/DC
station in the world),
Deptford West and
Deptford East.
When I started
my recordings the
first two operating
stations had already
long been demolished,
but every day for
years I would pass
Deptford East's
soaring chimney,
vast buildings, jetties
and cranes that stood
silent amidst
a square mile of
waste ground on Deptford
Creek. Even from
a distance they
dominated Deptford's
skyline from river
and land. Getting
up close and
stalking for shots
amongst the abandoned
station was truly
awesome: the
sheer scale of the
remaining structures
and abandoned equipment
set within a
prairie of wild grasses
and flowers, jagged
glass and metal felt
breathtaking, nostalgic,
dangerous and forbidden.
If you can imagine
the
entrance hall of
the Tate Modern amplified
in size a hundred
times you can
grasp the enormity
of the Deptford Power
station site - I
felt as tiny as a
flea next to the
mammoth blood-red
walls that were still
held up by Ferranti
's original "Alhambra
Arches".
It was the last
formidable obstacle
in the developers'
path and the most
potent remaining
symbol in the area
as to how things
used to be. It took
three demolitions
over two years as
well as an army of
gigantic heavy plant
to reduce it to rubble.
I recorded all three
blasts, as well as
the
aftermath. An archeological
dig on the cleared
site revealed the
East India
Company's boat building
yards and medieval
alms houses - a process
I also
videoed.
Knowing what was
about to happen when,
and rustling up equipment
and help at
the right time, took
a great deal of tapping
into the local grapevine,
blagging and determination.
Jim Rice, who was
making a professional
photographic record
of Deptford Creek
for his book, was
my biggest supporter
and source of information.
He was the only person
I knew well at the
time
who understood what
was driving me to
record it all before
it was gone for
good.
I didn't do it
for academic reasons
of history or science
- I discovered
those as I went along.
It was really out
of a passion for
a "Sense of
Place"
and a working class
identity that was
being blasted out
of existence without
so much as a thank
you or even a mention.
For me it was a personal
undertaking - a search
for the lessons of
my home - the industrial
North,
similar to Deptford
when I first moved
here but demolished
before I was a
teenager by "slum
clearance" and
failed industries.
I felt a loyalty
to
Deptford that was
familial. I felt
personally affronted
by a staunch working
class enclave facing
extinction without
mention in history.
My father had
worked for a pittance
for what became British
Gas - another
nationalised energy
monster. He had died
before I could fully
absorb his
stories: his war
experience, his union
battles, his pride
at contributing to
keeping the nation
running were all
things I sensed again
amidst the
enormity of the silent
power station and
echoed in the interviews
I recorded
with three ex-power
station workers of
his generation. Their
love of the
station, their humorous
or grisly stories
about it and their
pride in having
been a part of it,
reflected its importance
in the psychic as
well as the
financial existence
of Deptford.
Power Gen gave us
24 hours to save
the mountains of
documents that were
being destroyed.
My friends Alison,
Helen and I literally
shoveled what we
could out of an industrial
sized skip and into
the back of my car.
We fished
out documents from
the 1920s onward,
willy-nilly, of interest
to all sorts
of researchers -
blue prints for machinery,
machinery manuals,
letters with
beautifully crafted
design headings,
rules and regulations
of all sorts, log
books of outputs
and failures, war
time measures, expenditure
and payroll
names, (often revealing
generations of a
local family some
still living in
Deptford), records
of accidents, illnesses
and poignantly, a
request from
the local Department
of Employment that
the plant consider
a gentleman of
good character and
of West Indian origin
for a post.
Even these random
documents show how
much interest was
generated
internationally at
its height by Deptford
Power Station as
well as the
economic interconnectedness
between different
parts of the country
for
supply, for example
of coal (by river
barge) or machinery
parts and
maintenance. There's
a hidden history
of the industrial
working class there
to be harvested.
Even a cursory glance
at the documents
gives a glimpse of
a
dead national industrial
infrastructure. They
deserve some serious
expert
attention.
I still have the
retrieved materials
and recordings. Roy
Bourne, an electrical engineer
and historian with
a keen interest in
Deptford Power
Station championed
my work but sadly
died before his research
was complete.
He believed what
I had was unique
and of great value
which is why I have
kept it safe.
10 years ago not
many people could
see the value in
what I tried to do.
It
has been an enormous
frustration to know
that if I had had
more knowledge,
help and resources
at the time I could
have done a better
job. But I did
what I could to preserve
the memory of a generation
of the "old
guys" whose
hard graft and values
secured the future.
My video material
needs to be catalogued
and transferred onto
digital
format - an undertaking
beyond my resources.
I hope that by participating
in
the "Derelict
Sensation" this
work can go forward
and gain recognition
for
the old Deptford,
its Power Station
and its workers.
CONTACT MARI TAYLOR
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