Granton Mirage
I used to get paid to hire a plane and fly over the Forth to take photographs. I was photographing ‘Europe’s biggest’ brownfield development site along north Edinburgh’s waterfront on the River Forth, at Granton. My small role, employed by the Waterfront Development company, was to produce site progress photographs that documented the transformation of the industrial site into a prestigious new residential district.
The small team that I worked for were encamped, almost literally, in a few sparsely furnished rooms in a partially renovated industrial warehouse. It looked like a tight-knit and disciplined team, with a sense of purpose. On one site visit, as the project development manager directed me to yet another piece of industrial wasteland, I commented half-jokingly that it might be a thing of beauty to the trained eye. “It is! It is a thing of beauty!” was his reply. It is safe to say that they were very committed to the project.
Perhaps basing such a project on an exciting new tram network turned out not to be such a good idea - as a tourist information adviser commented to an inquisitive visitor, “It’s probably better not to even mention trams in Edinburgh.”
Recently I attended an event on Land Reform, where Granton was highlighted by the Scottish Land Action Movement as an example of the need for transparency in land ownership. Land valued at £40 million in 2006 dropped by 93% when the financial crisis hit; offshore companies in discreet tax havens purchased parcels of land for a song.
“This situation is indicative of what happens when land ownership information is not readily available. Very little is known about the new owners. Are they even paying any tax?” says Charlotte Wrigley of SLAM.
On the ground, the Granton waterfront is bizarre. It has just stopped. Roads go nowhere, bridges are blocked off, isolated apartment blocks reflect in the glasslike waters of canals that have no destination, like desert mirages. There are fences, barriers, security cameras, orders and injuctions. And white posts, lots of white posts - who knows why. The landscaped areas are orderly, regimented, geometric and constrained; wild flowers flourish beyond the gates, in the unreclaimed industrial areas. There are picturesque wooded glades, with barbed wire fences.
We are expected only to see the smooth polished surfaces of glitzy city developments, and it is disconcerting to see the unfinished workings poking through - the result is like science-fiction film where a software glitch inadvertently reveals the sinister conspiracy and the dystopian reality behind the utopian illusion…
“No, it’s really lovely here,” says a passing dog walker strolling through the early-morning post-apocalyptic scene, enjoying the reflections in the canal. (Dog walkers are my main source of local knowledge, anywhere.) “It’s very quiet and peaceful, great views over the Forth. The residents don’t want it to change a bit.”
I said it was bizarre.
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