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All hail Berrick Saul, Vice Chancellor from 1979-1993; the longest running V.C. that York has ever had. It therefore seems fitting that such an esteemed fellow should have a postgraduate super-structure erected in his honour. Rising up from the campus skyline, the Berrick Saul Building is nothing short of bold and brash. Love it or hate it, it's a work of art. With its quasi-futuristic, yet curvaceous lines, you get the impression that the principle inspiration came from Star Trek
Tranquillity seems to be the plat du jour, as the building has been cleverly centred around the peaceful garden where Buddha and his belly are often seen chilling out. It is a Pandora’s Box of delights, designed to stimulate intellectuality and channel creativity.
It comes as no surprise that this metropolis has a hefty price tag of £7.2 million pounds. But the million dollar question remains; what do you get for your money?
As the doors glide open effortlessly, and you step inside, you are instantly greeted by Mr. Saul’s bronze bust. The minimalist interior is infectious; red leather chairs, IKEA dining furniture, all set off by the snazzy green-glowing halogen lighting. Venture in a little further, open a few portals, and you will find a very useable kitchen (complete with a drinks station and a microwave). Why waste your own electricity when you can use theirs!
They say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, but not in this case; occasionally, usually after a conference, a luxury complimentary buffet can be enjoyed. The prawn Marie-rose is to die for, when washed down with a cup of hot char created at one of the various gratuitous ‘tea points’ dotted around the facility. As if this wasn’t enough, vending machines provide this holy land with temptation - it’s a bit like Eve with her apple, only involving a Twix instead.
Meandering around, you will find a snazzy cylindrical 150 capacity lecture theatre and board rooms with big, black leather chairs that would even make Lord Alan Sugar swivel in his tracks. There are enough desks to satisfy an academic army and a rather exotically named ‘mezzanine’ work area, which are both great if you appreciate the sound of pins dropping. If you are feeling particularly dirty, why not take a steamy shower in between periodicals.
Elevate up two more floors and you will find the spacious, airy offices of the humanities powerhouses and a treehouse; an extraterrestrial looking room offering 360º panoramic views of the stunning scenery.
This club, however, is strictly members-only, operating with a James Bond-esque key card system. All that is missing is the finger print and retina scanners. On the other hand, well behaved undergrads would go unnoticed as some of the iron clad doors are indeed permanently unlocked.
All things considered this is a pretty impressive and justified venue, however, another question burns in our pockets; just who paid for it? According to a University press release, the sheckles were kindly donated by the Bowland Trust, a charity: “to promote the activities of young people that would help in the formation of their characters. The first priorities are for those who are inclined towards education or leisure”.
A very kind gesture indeed; they would perhaps be rather upset if they found out that this building was being ignored by students. Listening to the ever-accurate grapevine, this building is allegedly underused. This you can believe; stepping inside, the silence is almost biblical. You feel obliged to not utter even the faintest of syllables, almost like in an art gallery.
The take home message; start using it, especially in the current climate. With the government chiselling away at university funding, this elaborate and costly construction takes the biscuit if it is not used to its full potential and may just rub salt into the wounds of other less fortunate departments.
In short, this is the land of plenty...providing you actually go in.
The building is for postgraduates and undergraduates aren't allowed to book rooms there. We're not allowed to use the building. Wounded.
Not only is it exclusively for postgraduates, but only for those postgrads whose departments chipped in to the building costs. The fact is that it's only for a very specific group of students.
And rightly so - it was built to address the lack of space for postgrads in the Humanities compared to those in other departments.
And not all Humanities postgrads - Politics students can't get key cards because their department didn't contribute. I think it's pretty much for Philosophy, English and History postgrads.
Anyway, the thrust of this article is incorrect. The BSB isn't being ignored, because the vast majority of students cannot use it. Sloppy research, maybe?
4, The writer does acknowledge it's a postgrad building - she says there are keycards, but that 'well-behaved undergrads' would go unnoticed. I guess it's just about being cheeky.
#4 - At least some Linguistics, Law and PPE students also have access.
The building gets busy at peak times, and the study room doors are always meant to be locked (and almost always are) to all but key card holders - unfortunately, though a few well-behaved undergrads would go unnoticed at non-peak times, there's no practicable and fair way of giving access to just a few. Work space issues should improve for undergrads when the library work is done/the library has control of the Comp Sci building.
I enjoyed the article though - always nice to be compared to a double-0 agent.
A few queries: 1) How can the Berrick Saul Building, no matter its grandiloquence, use the sky as a base from which to protrude upwards? 2) It is "quasi-futuristic" YET, (at the same time), "curvaceous". Are these in any way in contrast in the first place? 3) Pandora's Box to its beholder was anything but "a box of delights." 4) Despite the fact that the building cost an "unsurprising" £7.2 million, the question regarding its value is only worth £1 million. I don't follow the mathematics involved here. 5) I have watched every single James Bond movie, and at no point does he break into a building using a "key card system", presumably because one does not break in if they have a key card permitting access. 6) Questions do not burn in pockets. This is not English. 7) I have the read the Bible, and there isn't a great deal of silence in it. Conclusion: In short, this writer is not in the land of the plenty... of mind.
I wish someone would beam up that angry Scottish guy who sits in the corner
Genius!! Surely 'Beam up angry Scotty' or something along those lines would work better
P.S very un-Scotland the Brave posting anonymously!
I have trouble with the use of the adjective 'exotic' for the term 'mezzanine', given that mezzanine is an architectural term for an intermediate floor. It is, perhaps, the number of 'z's which baffles the author of this article, given the general standard of writing and research. A 'pandora's box of delights' is one of the most egregiously mixed metaphor I have ever had the dubious privelege to read. Pandora's box was, mythically speaking, a box which contained within it all the evils of the world. Far from delightful. I am also sceptical of the claim than an interior can be 'infectious', unless, of course, the 'grapevine' has informed you that the futuristic design of the building also includes special virus paint.
There are, of course, other holes in the logic of the article, but I think the thing which elevates it to utter idiocy is the assumption that a quiet building is in fact underused. It is quiet because there are people working in it. Quietly. Which is the whole point of the building. The assertion that undergraduates would a) be able to access the study rooms reliably and b) have any right to do so is irresponsible and inaccurate journalism. The building is not for you. It's for postgraduate students in the departments who contributed to the building, who want to use the space, not for undergraduates, for whom the automatic doors will only open during the daytime.
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