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Streets in the sky … the Sheffield high-rises that were home sweet home Streets in the sky … the Sheffield high-rises that were home sweet home
(about 2 months later)
Bill Stephenson had been trying to photograph the residents of one of Sheffield’s most notorious housing estates for some time when he realised he was going about things all wrong. No one trusted him, this outsider with a southern accent and a fancy camera, parachuting in from the city’s leafy Nether Edge area. They didn’t appreciate him hanging around Hyde Park flats, snatching photographs of them as they went about their lives amid the brutalist concrete they called home, perched on the hill above Sheffield railway station.Bill Stephenson had been trying to photograph the residents of one of Sheffield’s most notorious housing estates for some time when he realised he was going about things all wrong. No one trusted him, this outsider with a southern accent and a fancy camera, parachuting in from the city’s leafy Nether Edge area. They didn’t appreciate him hanging around Hyde Park flats, snatching photographs of them as they went about their lives amid the brutalist concrete they called home, perched on the hill above Sheffield railway station.
He started to leave his posh Billingham bag at home. His Hasselblad, worth thousands, went in a carrier bag with a towel at the bottom to protect it. Sometimes he never even took it out. “Often I’d go up there and not take any pictures,” he says. “I’d just sit on a bench and smoke and chat to people, go for coffee at the drop-in centre. There’s always someone on an estate who knows everyone, so I found that person and got them to introduce me to everyone else.”He started to leave his posh Billingham bag at home. His Hasselblad, worth thousands, went in a carrier bag with a towel at the bottom to protect it. Sometimes he never even took it out. “Often I’d go up there and not take any pictures,” he says. “I’d just sit on a bench and smoke and chat to people, go for coffee at the drop-in centre. There’s always someone on an estate who knows everyone, so I found that person and got them to introduce me to everyone else.”
It was 1988 and Hyde Park was set for demolition. Barely 20 years after its construction, residents were about to be scattered across Sheffield’s seven hills. It was a sad ending for what had been – along with its sister development, Park Hill – the ultimate symbol of Sheffield council’s pioneering postwar vision for social housing.It was 1988 and Hyde Park was set for demolition. Barely 20 years after its construction, residents were about to be scattered across Sheffield’s seven hills. It was a sad ending for what had been – along with its sister development, Park Hill – the ultimate symbol of Sheffield council’s pioneering postwar vision for social housing.
It would have been easy, says Stephenson, to have just done “alienation” photography: “You just get someone standing in this brutal concrete environment with the building towering over them and the wind whistling around them.” The flats have often been depicted as a brutalist nightmare: director Shane Meadows used Park Hill as the home of his This Is England ’90 characters when they started smoking heroin.It would have been easy, says Stephenson, to have just done “alienation” photography: “You just get someone standing in this brutal concrete environment with the building towering over them and the wind whistling around them.” The flats have often been depicted as a brutalist nightmare: director Shane Meadows used Park Hill as the home of his This Is England ’90 characters when they started smoking heroin.
But Stephenson didn’t want to go down that road. The people he met, wandering around with his carrier bag and its precious cargo, loved living in Hyde Park. Yes, times were tough, with many residents unemployed after the closure of the pits and the steelworks. But they were proud of their community and didn’t want to move. He set about photographing them at home, sunbathing on the balconies, playing snooker at the youth club and canoodling in the doorways. There are bubble perms and stonewashed denim, knee socks and white stilettos, Saturday night gladrags and grubby playclothes.But Stephenson didn’t want to go down that road. The people he met, wandering around with his carrier bag and its precious cargo, loved living in Hyde Park. Yes, times were tough, with many residents unemployed after the closure of the pits and the steelworks. But they were proud of their community and didn’t want to move. He set about photographing them at home, sunbathing on the balconies, playing snooker at the youth club and canoodling in the doorways. There are bubble perms and stonewashed denim, knee socks and white stilettos, Saturday night gladrags and grubby playclothes.
Sheffield's Park Hill: the tangled reality of an extraordinary brutalist dreamSheffield's Park Hill: the tangled reality of an extraordinary brutalist dream
One particularly pleasing image shows Sue, a community linchpin and owner of the estate’s shop, stacking Nice’n Easy hair dye in her overalls. Her slightly raised eyebrows seem a warning to anyone who asked for credit – known locally as “strap”, as in “strapped for cash” – and didn’t pay it back. She’d name and shame them, Stephenson recalls, using cards placed in her shop window. Another afternoon he caught two girls, Anita and Emma, looking fed-up as they delivered newspapers in their rollerboots and school skirts.One particularly pleasing image shows Sue, a community linchpin and owner of the estate’s shop, stacking Nice’n Easy hair dye in her overalls. Her slightly raised eyebrows seem a warning to anyone who asked for credit – known locally as “strap”, as in “strapped for cash” – and didn’t pay it back. She’d name and shame them, Stephenson recalls, using cards placed in her shop window. Another afternoon he caught two girls, Anita and Emma, looking fed-up as they delivered newspapers in their rollerboots and school skirts.
It wasn’t strict documentary photography. Most of the images are posed. Stephenson calls them “semi-formal”. He didn’t manipulate his subjects or get them to do anything they weren’t already doing, but he had their permission to shoot and they had a veto on their photos being made public.It wasn’t strict documentary photography. Most of the images are posed. Stephenson calls them “semi-formal”. He didn’t manipulate his subjects or get them to do anything they weren’t already doing, but he had their permission to shoot and they had a veto on their photos being made public.
His favourite image was of a strapping young black lad known locally as Tony the Ton, who was mucking about with his eight-year-old nephew, Martin. Both are topless: Tony in red tracksuit bottoms and Martin in little grey shorts, his knees knocked together as he mirrored his uncle’s crossed arms. “I was just there talking to them and captured the moment,” says Stephenson. “They didn’t feel threatened by me.”His favourite image was of a strapping young black lad known locally as Tony the Ton, who was mucking about with his eight-year-old nephew, Martin. Both are topless: Tony in red tracksuit bottoms and Martin in little grey shorts, his knees knocked together as he mirrored his uncle’s crossed arms. “I was just there talking to them and captured the moment,” says Stephenson. “They didn’t feel threatened by me.”
Many of the pictures show what had become a very mixed community. One captures a teenage couple, Faisal and Paula, their arms entwined outside the service lift. He is wearing Joe Bloggs jeans with transfers on them, she is in baggy denim and an argyle sweater. He looks Asian, she is white – and seems shyly delighted to have bagged a boyfriend.Many of the pictures show what had become a very mixed community. One captures a teenage couple, Faisal and Paula, their arms entwined outside the service lift. He is wearing Joe Bloggs jeans with transfers on them, she is in baggy denim and an argyle sweater. He looks Asian, she is white – and seems shyly delighted to have bagged a boyfriend.
Stephenson admits to seeking out these relationships. “At the time,” he says, “there had been a series of race riots across the UK and the press liked to talk a lot about racial tension, which I didn’t think told the whole story at all. What I saw at Hyde Park was a community that integrated beautifully.”Stephenson admits to seeking out these relationships. “At the time,” he says, “there had been a series of race riots across the UK and the press liked to talk a lot about racial tension, which I didn’t think told the whole story at all. What I saw at Hyde Park was a community that integrated beautifully.”
The resulting pictures featured in a show at Sheffield’s Untitled gallery in 1988 and then toured nationally. Thirty years on, Stephenson’s pictures are about to go on display again, this time only a few minutes away from where they were taken. S1 Artspace, a gallery and collection of artists’ studios, has relocated from the city centre to the old residents’ garage behind Park Hill, which was listed by English Heritage in 1998 and is midway through a massive regeneration project by developers Urban Splash.The resulting pictures featured in a show at Sheffield’s Untitled gallery in 1988 and then toured nationally. Thirty years on, Stephenson’s pictures are about to go on display again, this time only a few minutes away from where they were taken. S1 Artspace, a gallery and collection of artists’ studios, has relocated from the city centre to the old residents’ garage behind Park Hill, which was listed by English Heritage in 1998 and is midway through a massive regeneration project by developers Urban Splash.
S1 Artspace reopens in its new home today with Love Among the Ruins, a show that juxtaposes Stephenson’s pictures of Hyde Park with shots taken by another social documentary photographer, Roger Mayne, between 1961 and 1965. Mayne had been commissioned to show the early days of Park Hill, when it was the place everyone wanted to live – and before the Corbusier-inspired walkways designed for milkfloats had become a convenient escape route for ne’er-do-wells doing drug runs on their bikes.S1 Artspace reopens in its new home today with Love Among the Ruins, a show that juxtaposes Stephenson’s pictures of Hyde Park with shots taken by another social documentary photographer, Roger Mayne, between 1961 and 1965. Mayne had been commissioned to show the early days of Park Hill, when it was the place everyone wanted to live – and before the Corbusier-inspired walkways designed for milkfloats had become a convenient escape route for ne’er-do-wells doing drug runs on their bikes.
His images show the utopian vision of the architects, Jack Lynn and Ivor Smith, who had been tasked with solving the city’s housing and health crises by creating high-rise communities that would enjoy the same amenities as traditional neighbourhoods. The striking difference between Mayne and Stephenson’s images is the gender mix. In the 1960s, Park Hill appeared almost entirely populated by women. Bundled up in overcoats, curlers visible under head scarves, they went to the bingo and bossed the kids around while the men were out at work.His images show the utopian vision of the architects, Jack Lynn and Ivor Smith, who had been tasked with solving the city’s housing and health crises by creating high-rise communities that would enjoy the same amenities as traditional neighbourhoods. The striking difference between Mayne and Stephenson’s images is the gender mix. In the 1960s, Park Hill appeared almost entirely populated by women. Bundled up in overcoats, curlers visible under head scarves, they went to the bingo and bossed the kids around while the men were out at work.
By the time Stephenson arrived, the men were unemployed and the council considered Hyde Park flats a failed experiment in social housing. Shortly after he took his final frame, the bulldozers were sent in. He has kept in touch with many residents. One, Donna Hargreaves, contacted him recently after seeing a photograph of herself that was used to advertise the S1 show in the Sheffield Star. He captured her as a 14-year-old, straddling the fourth floor concrete balcony in white shorts and a red and white striped T-shirt with her friend Carmen. Now in her mid-40s, she planned to attend this week’s opening.By the time Stephenson arrived, the men were unemployed and the council considered Hyde Park flats a failed experiment in social housing. Shortly after he took his final frame, the bulldozers were sent in. He has kept in touch with many residents. One, Donna Hargreaves, contacted him recently after seeing a photograph of herself that was used to advertise the S1 show in the Sheffield Star. He captured her as a 14-year-old, straddling the fourth floor concrete balcony in white shorts and a red and white striped T-shirt with her friend Carmen. Now in her mid-40s, she planned to attend this week’s opening.
Others did not make it into middle age. One boy took his own life; a girl died after a life of health problems. For some, being photographed was a confidence boost. Leroy, whom Stephenson photographed on the Hyde Park swings as a 14-year-old, contacted him recently. “He said, ‘I was amazed you wanted to photograph me. People like me were invisible then: black teenagers living on a housing estate like Hyde Park.’ He’s doing really well now and has a great job as an IT guy.”Others did not make it into middle age. One boy took his own life; a girl died after a life of health problems. For some, being photographed was a confidence boost. Leroy, whom Stephenson photographed on the Hyde Park swings as a 14-year-old, contacted him recently. “He said, ‘I was amazed you wanted to photograph me. People like me were invisible then: black teenagers living on a housing estate like Hyde Park.’ He’s doing really well now and has a great job as an IT guy.”
Life changed for Stephenson too. He started a family and, unable to make ends meet doing social documentary photography, began taking commercial work: weddings on Saturdays, TV work and PR gigs that never made his heart sing. But he will forever be proud of the eight months he spent traipsing around Hyde Park with his camera in a carrier bag.Life changed for Stephenson too. He started a family and, unable to make ends meet doing social documentary photography, began taking commercial work: weddings on Saturdays, TV work and PR gigs that never made his heart sing. But he will forever be proud of the eight months he spent traipsing around Hyde Park with his camera in a carrier bag.
Love Among the Ruins is at S1 Artspace in Park Hill, Sheffield, until 15 September.Love Among the Ruins is at S1 Artspace in Park Hill, Sheffield, until 15 September.
PhotographyPhotography
Social housingSocial housing
ArchitectureArchitecture
SheffieldSheffield
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Social historySocial history
ArtArt
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