Riding the Elizabeth Line
ASERENDIPITOUS deluge of rain on the way back from a meeting in London last week suggested to Athena that she take a ride on the Elizabeth Line during the first day of its public operation. What began as a way of staying dry became an exploratory trip; she ended up riding the full length of the newly opened line from Abbey Wood to Paddington, hopping out at intervals to view the stations.
Athena was pleased to see how many people were similarly inspecting the new line from mere curiosity and clearly relishing the experience. One passenger she saw was busy taking selfies as they brandished a bag manufactured from the same fabric as the seat upholstery; another loudly recited technical information about the new trains to a carriage of passengers lost between curiosity and social embarrassment.
To Athena, of course, the aesthetics and design of the new line were the thing that mattered most. The trains themselves are unexpectedly broad; this might feel like a new Tube service, but it is really an underground (for the most part) railway. Internally, the carriages are interconnected, which adds to the sense of spaciousness, and make use of a restrained palette of grey, white and purple—the livery of the line— detailed in black.
The stations are likewise on a very grand scale, with a great deal of open space. Most assume the structural forms and materials —piles, steel, concrete and glass—familiar from infrastructure projects for the past two decades. The colour palette in some places echoes that of the carriages.
One particularly magnificent feature of several of the stations are arched passages, vaulted in concrete, that cover and connect the platforms below ground. These have a cross-section of just over half a circle and intersect to form groin vaults. The effect might be characterised as Romanesque, but in an industrial idiom.
Equally impressive are several of the escalator tunnels, which are on an immense scale. At Tottenham Court Road, Athena enjoyed the delicate gilded lattice that enlivened the ceiling above the escalator there and, at Whitechapel, the sudden narrowing of the descent, cleverly accentuated by the detailing of the architecture. The decoration of several ticket halls in bold patterns and primary colours was ingenious, but, to Athena’s eyes, lacked interest.
The one detail on which Athena reserves judgement is in the treatment of the station canopies. At Abbey Wood, these are stylishly modelled with sweeping curves, but here, and elsewhere, she suspects that there is too much glass to keep clean. Indeed, at Paddington, the glazed canopy over the entrance is covered in drifts of dust that rather attractively evoke clouds against a blue sky. Against a storm cloud, it merely looks shabby. Athena hopes she is wrong, but the obsession of architects with glass may ensure that the Elizabeth Line loses its outward shine early.
The effect might be characterised as Romanesque, but in an industrial idiom