I migrated in the last decades of the 20th century to Glasgow to study architecture at the recently incinerated Glasgow School of Art. I’ve recently retrained as a building surveyor specialising in building pathology — how buildings decay and require maintenance cycles. My work has a heritage twist that is rooted in my passion for the city’s architecture. Glasgow has an endless range of construction styles and the finest Victorian architecture in the UK. The tenements and impressive civic and business buildings used the local slate and stone to build the city in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Recording these buildings, and attempting to grasp the reasons behind their increasingly vacant, derelict and ruinous existence, is at the heart of my website.  I live in a draughty c.1900 tenement in the city’s southside with my partner and a designer feline. Photographing the city fills my spare time while punk music fills my ears. In a city passionate and divided by football, I am perhaps the sole male who is immune to the lure of men chasing around after a ball.  Glasgow, an economic powerhouse, is a fascinating city full of bluster, confidence and blagging. From the pompous shiny-faced politicians in the George Square “palace” of marble, to the occasional obscene example of contemporary wealth, through to the sectarian undercurrents of religious and football divides, it is a city in constant flux. Beauty is often juxtaposed by ugliness.  The people are approachable, friendly, humorous, clever and passionate. At times they may hate Glasgow or love it – opinions are never hard to find here. The city has a history of partially failed reinvention stretching back decades to its industrial glories. Perhaps more than any other it has tried to regenerate itself in the face of unparalleled social deprivation.  Everything is to be found here: vibrant arts and music, culture, leisure and history, stunning museums and architecture, exceptional seats of learning, wonderful multicultural neighbourhoods, third-sector community projects – all juxtaposed with the dark side: violence, corruption, poverty, unemployment, slum housing, homelessness as well as drugs and alcohol in alarming abundance. It is a city full of hope and yet underpinned by the dark Scottish fatalism, humour and insight.  Lion Chambers (1904-07), is a centrally located A-listed blend of miniature skyscraper and Scottish castle. It combines a small footprint (10 by 14 metres) with use of what was then cutting-edge technology, to rise more than eight storeys. Exhibiting a host of traditional tower-house stylings in tandem with its experimental structural system, it soars above its neighbours.  At the time of its construction, squat powerfully proportioned tenements still rose around the city, using brick and stone-mass walling tied together with timber floors. The revolutionary reinforced-concrete techniques employed at Lion Chambers displayed a modernity of experimental technique in stunning contrast to that of the tenements.  Today the building lies vacant and in a very poor condition. Alexander Thomson’s Egyptian Halls, to the south, is another of Glasgow’s most prominent and centrally located A-listed architectural icons locked in a complex drawn-out spiral of decay. Some strive to save it, others to demolish it, and yet the impetus, willpower and solutions to offer a better future for the building remain just out of reach.  Bluevale tower, one of the twin towers at Bluevale/Whitevale in the East End of Glasgow is perhaps the finest example of the city’s deeply divisive brutalist architectural period and has parallels to Lion Chambers in structural efficiency. A ruthlessly pared-down square design, it soars higher than any other. The audacity of its design can be breathtaking in its conviction and the imposition of form over function. There is a certain bold beauty to this power, defiance and strength, and yet it is terrifyingly bleak and unremittingly awful in other ways.  No European city embraced social housing towers as Glasgow did after the second world war. Today the skyline is changing as these towers are declared unfit for habitation and regular demolitions take place. Perversely this mode of housing is still regarded as suitable for asylum seekers or in the private sector where they are labelled “luxury apartments”.  Suffering poor construction and isolationist design, and following a riot of bad management over decades, the Bluevale/Whitevale towers are now awaiting demolition. The destruction of many of the city’s brutalist towers often seems ideologically driven. While some are undeniably horrendous, others could be given new lives, more effectively than at present, given the huge waiting lists for housing.  Glasgow smokes, Glasgow chews gum, Glasgow eats takeaways. Glaswegians are divided in their use of litter bins or their ability to – without remorse – continue the constant rain of discarded spent consumerism. This is compounded by the unbelievable quantity of discarded mattresses and sofas that are dumped on the streets on a weekly basis. Battling this, the city’s cleansers prowl with mighty dustcarts endlessly carrying out their thankless task of chomping them down and removing them to unsustainable landfill.  On the tarmac of the UK’s most polluted city, the mass of buses and traffic curse us with the silent killer of pollution particles with levels far in excess of those considered healthy. In some pollution hotspots, the deep breathing of the speedy cyclists draws so much pollution into their lungs that you wonder whether it’s the equivalent of lycra-clad chain-smoking. Glasgow has a long way to go to clean up its act, recycle, re-use and learn from many of its European neighbours.  Some years ago Glasgow was slashed with the planning equivalent of a “Glasgow kiss”, or headbutt, in the form of the vertical smile of the M8 urban motorway – carved across the city after the war. Like all urban motorways, a heavy price was paid with the destruction of architecture, communities and the city’s Chicago-esque grid. To this day the convenience proffered faces off the pollution suffered. The endless traffic lights provoke “amber gambling”, which now seems to have run into “red peril” as many take further risks. Bus lanes are increasingly being monitored, provoking fury as motorists incur fines for minor infractions often caused by poor signage or undertaking those turning right.  Step out the metal machine and the subway provides effective transport for the shorter members of society or those prepared to stoop due to its toy-train proportions. Fortunately this is supplemented by a good railway, largely electrified and the mass of buses. I have always cycled and our numbers are ever increasing and yet the infrastructure fails us and the risks can be great. Cars parked in cycle lanes and nonsensical cycle lanes sometimes just yards long are a regular sight.  Glasgow can be remarkably quiet, peaceful and beautiful. There is still much of the “dear green place”. At any time this can be shattered by sirens: the emergency services love a bit of the New York wail of “get the fuck out the way!’ For many the aural isolation of permanently affixed headphones cuts out both this and the diesel rumble of buses and the unique nasal drawl of the “weegie” accent peppering the streets.  Finally, the summer marching season can mean you are rudely awoken by pipes and drums in a throwback to the past and others’ tribal traditions. Without a Christian background, I have no side to take. I can see why the preservation of freedom of speech and the right to assemble means that dismantling the marches could backfire, though the trouble and expense such marches impose can be deeply demoralising to many.  I would favour conversing while walking through my local park, or perhaps sitting with a pint in a local hostelry. But frankly, for Glaswegians, anywhere will do – my fellow citizens are full of banter regardless of location. Unlike many cities I have visited, here the locals will help and speak to you, they will not pass by like drones.  As I crisscross the city photographing the architecture and more, it seems for many it is the electric soup of Buckfast Tonic Wine. While many cities pedal the urban myth of proximity to a rat, here the green glass bottle of the tonic wine never seems far away. As a photography side project, every time I see one of these I’ll snap it. Hundreds of photos later, this obscure gallery of glass features shattered and intact examples from across all areas of the city. Personally, the one indispensable item is a camera and for all in Glasgow, a wee bit of attitude and humour goes a long way.  There is a degree of tempered optimism. The 2014 games promises much in terms of legacy, but will the Commonwealth Games add to the wealth of the common? Only analysis numerous years hence will show the truth. For now it has undeniably given the city fresh hope, profile and vibrancy.  From an architectural perspective, there is an ever-ageing crumbling building stock (80% of current stock predicted to be in use in 40 years). Underfunded and lacking priority, this is problem being stored up for future generations and will be exacerbated by climate change. Combined with this, there is a shameful social housing crisis with demolitions massively outstripping the delivery of new-builds, which falls way short of those promised.  However it is our city, and hope and optimism should always be encouraged to flourish, no matter how dark are certain corners of Glasgow’s problems. Learning from others and our own history, embracing multiculturalism and seeking change combined with the local indefatigable spirit means Glasgow always stands a chance.
Joe Shaldon of Derelict Glasgow shows us the brutalism, the beauty and the Buckfast of Scotland’s largest city