Remnants

The concept of psychogeography has played a huge role in my life since I first encountered it a number of years ago. In particular, it has provided a useful means with which to contextualise the relationship that I have with my urban surroundings.

After frequently floundering in my attempts to explain the concept of psychogeography to anyone who wasn't familiar with it (most people, as it turned out), I sought assistance from the writings of others.

Modern psychogeography has its roots in Guy Debord's "Introduction to a Critique of Urban Geography" (1955),  in which he states that, 'Psychogeography sets for itself the study of the precise laws and specific effects of the geographical environment, whether consciously organised or not, on the emotions and behaviour of individuals.'

However, as Merlin Coverley puts it in his book Psychogeography, published in 2010, '...the term has become so widely appropriated and been used in support of such a bewildering array of ideas that it has lost much of its original significance.'

Coverley himself felt that psychogeography was characterised by '...urban wandering, the imaginative reworking of the city, the otherworldly sense of spirit of place, the unexpected insights and juxtapositions created by aimless drifting, the new ways of experiencing familiar surroundings...'

While gaining a new awareness and appreciation of modern urban spaces, contemporary psychogeographers, as The Lonely Planet Book of Experimental Travel notes, '...seek to record, celebrate and reclaim the forgotten, neglected and overlooked environments of the city.'

Referring to the development of his own psychogeographical methodologies, writer and film-maker John Rogers found that 'The work became a kind of “archaeology of the present”, sifting through the various layers of everyday life to discover what lies beneath...'

Inevitably, local history plays a part in all of this.

I wasn't the first person to be fascinated by odd little relics in the city - remnants of once intact buildings or other historical features - and I won't be the last.

J Holland Walker (1874-1960), a renowned local historian and, for many years, honorary secretary of the Thoroton Society (by its own description, 'Nottinghamshire's principal historical and archaeological society') was responsible for two literary endeavours that have particularly inspired me. The first is a series called "An Itinerary of Nottingham," which was published over a number of volumes of the Transactions of the Thoroton Society between 1925 and 1935.

All of the volumes in question are available online. "An Itinerary of Nottingham" was, as A C Wood put it in an obituary in Volume 64 of the Transactions, '...an informed and authoritative survey of the streets and buildings of the City'. As Nottingham has changed radically since the period in which Holland Walker was writing, this 'survey' makes for a fascinating read.

Of equal, if not greater interest for the student of Nottingham's past (as well as that of nearby areas) is Links With Old Nottingham (first edition 1928; second, expanded edition 1935). This book, which contains material reprinted from the Nottingham Evening News, consists of a lengthy series of short articles - each accompanied by a photograph - concerning, as the foreword by the Mayor of Nottingham has it, '...the scattered fragments which by-gone ages have left us.'

Some of these remnants have since vanished, but many remain. All are fascinating to anyone who feels the presence of the past as they wander the streets of Nottingham, just as J Holland Walker did, dowsing for connections.

J Holland Walker (source: Transactions of the Thoroton Society, Volume 64)

Still extant are such locations and features as the Norman Arches just off Broadway, the Jewish graveyard on North Sherwood Street and the remaining section of the old Trent Bridge. Lost, missing or hidden away, perhaps awaiting rediscovery one day, are the House of Commons windows that were incorporated into premises near the corner of Park Row and Chapel Bar, the remains of Radford Folly, and John Wesley's pulpit, which was in the Hockley Chapel building at the bottom of Goose Gate.

There are many, many links to Nottingham's past hidden in plain sight, and a recent discovery I made about one such location - a site that I had walked past and wondered about hundreds, if not thousands of times in my life - provides just one small example of how, through an awareness of - and curiosity about - our surroundings, we can forge a deeper relationship with the city, as opposed to interacting with it in purely transactional terms.

The relic that had repeatedly drawn my attention was what looked like an old commercial/industrial facade at the town end of Castle Boulevard, almost opposite Wharf Road - the remains of what was once, I presumed, a substantial set of premises. To the rear of this somewhat incongruous structure was a car park.

A curious survivor, Castle Boulevard

How the facade survived when so much else in this area didn't remains a mystery for now, but through sheer luck I was able to delve a little deeper into the background of this odd, yet delightful link to the past that thousands of people walk, run, cycle, scoot or drive past every day.

While rifling through the wares on offer at a postcard fair at the University of Nottingham's Kings Meadow campus, I was excited to come across a view of Nottingham Castle, taken from Castle Boulevard, that featured the mysterious facade in the foreground. The perspective was a little odd, but subsequent comparison with online mapping and historic aerial photography seemed to suggest that this was indeed the same location, albeit at a slightly different point in its development.

An early 20th century postcard showing the section of building facade that survives to this day

A 1952 aerial image; the facade can be seen towards the bottom left of the photo (source: Britain from Above)

The postcard was posted in 1912 and examination of its detail showed two signs that read 'WINDLE' and 'DECORATOR' above an entrance. I could almost certainly have determined that this particular business was located here by studying old local directories, but a serendipitous approach to local history is sometimes much more satisfying.

Postcard detail

Having purchased the postcard for my collection, and now having some information to work with, I eschewed the dusty old directories and headed straight for a favourite online resource - the British Newspaper Archive.

My first discovery was an advert from a solicitor in the Nottingham Daily Express dated 23 March 1907 reporting the death of ‘William Windle, late of 108, Mansfield-street, Sherwood, and carrying on the business of a Painter, Decorator, and Fine Art Dealer at 22, Derby-road, and Castle-boulevard, both in the City of Nottingham, who died on the 7th day of March, 1907 [he actually seems to have died on the 5th]’. This immediately provided a link to the Castle Boulevard remains.

My next find was a report of the funeral, also in the Nottingham Daily Express (Friday 8 March edition), which noted that ‘The remains of the late Mr. William Windle, the well-known picture dealer and fine art connoisseur, whose death occurred at his residence, Sherwood, on Tuesday, were interred at the Church Cemetery, Mansfield-road, Nottingham, yesterday.’

Windle had died at the age of 72. Among the mourners were his sons, who perhaps carried on the business. The report went on to mention that ‘The deceased was the first vice-president of the National Association of Master House Painters, being elected some 12 years ago, was also a member of the Nottingham Society of Artists, and he held the position of art valuer to the Notts. County Council for some years past.’

A minor character in life's great drama, but an interesting one nonetheless.

The great palimpsest of the city is a source of endless fascination for those of us who fall under its spell.