Finsbury Health Centre

Finsbury Health Centre
May 2009

The  casework issues raised by Finsbury Health Centre might look fairly straightforward –how can we  try to convince the owners to appreciate it, keep and look after it as any owners of a Grade I listed building should?  Grade I, let’s consider that for a moment, what else is Grade I? Well , Finsbury is in distinguished company, sitting alongside the likes of Durham Cathedral, the Palace of Westminster, Windsor Castle and Christ Church, Spitalfields. In the context of C20 listings, it has very few peers and shares the top spot with the likes of the Royal Festival Hall (which itself owes a debt to Finsbury), and Lutyens’s Cenotaph in Whitehall.  In short, and if we are playing parlour games, Finsbury Health Centre is arguably the most significant piece of twentieth century architecture in the country – it is certainly an icon of public health provision and hence of enormous historical significance as well as architectural merit. 

It is perhaps inevitable then, that the debate around its future be characterised by a chorus of passionate voices. Architects, conservationists, health professionals and many others, all dismayed at the recent decision by NHS Islington to sell off the building and relocate the wide variety of health services it provides to a number of sites across the borough have spoken out. For the Society, whose concern is the building, the situation poses significant and deep-rooted conservation questions. Namely, is the building so inexorably imbued with the spirit of its original purpose that it can never be anything else?

Not many conservationists would argue against the basic tenet that a building is best conserved doing what it was intended to do. Finsbury was and is a health centre, designed to treat huge numbers of very sick people in one of the poorest and most deprived areas of London. Although some of the circumstances have changed (for instance the lecture theatre now has no obvious role), it is still a building from which good health services continue to be delivered. But it also has a viable future as a great many other things. The large entrance hall, the lecture theatre and the consulting rooms could all be used in combination for an array of public or private purposes. It could be an education building, a hotel, a community centre, and no doubt many organisations would find it both physically and symbolically a good match as a headquarters building. The list goes on. To many, the very idea of any alternative use is anathema. The idea that this building, which galvanised the formation of the NHS, could be bought and sold is a tragic sign of the times. This is undoubtedly a passionate and persuasive argument.

Questions though, have to be asked about its long-term fitness for purpose – will FHC always be suitable for healthcare provision, will it always be able to house the technologies and equipment necessary?  Many listed buildings, from mediaeval castles to modernist houses have found new leases of life doing something they were not originally intended for and have retained their architectural integrity – the Society’s remit forces it to look coolly at the prospect of change of use. We do not see our role as fighting for the preservation of ideology, no matter how manifest it might be in the building.   This of course is very much the same argument as that addressed by Catherine’s comments about Robin Hood Gardens on page 1.

We are currently arguing for the preservation of FHC as a building for delivering healthcare because we are not convinced by NHS Islington’s arguments for the disposal of the building and we support wider calls that they should rethink and re-consult. We have to be prepared however, to accept that their final conclusion will be that they will still want to move.  

Obviously, our concern is with the fabric of the building, which is not in a good way, despite a partial restoration by Avanti Architects which was completed in 1995. At the back of the building, large sections of tiling and render, removed for investigative works, have never been repaired or replaced.  Window frames are rusted, and the interior has been badly altered – most noticeably by the insertion of a huge glass screen that separates receptionists from patients and the covering up of Gordon Cullen’s famous sloganeering murals. The current condition of the building is therefore deeply regrettable. Poor maintenance is compounded by the slack record of care by the local planning authority; even now they have not enforced any of the urgent repairs that need doing. On reflection, perhaps after all, it the building would be better off in the hands of someone who was prepared to nurse it back to health, and look after it long-term. The debate will no doubt continue as to the best outcome but it raises fundamental questions about conservation principles and the relationship between form and function for conservation. To conserve Finsbury as a monument to the welfare state does not necessarily mean that it should be conserved as a working health centre.

Jon Wright

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