Severalls Lunatic Asylum Part 2

Architecture:
The few remaining traces of staff and patients ensured that above all I was struck by the architecture of the hospital – the degree to space shaped experience and interaction (one of the major themes of Diana Gittens' study of the hospital).

Stripped of all furnishings, staff and patients, left with nothing but bare walls and ceiling tiles, I realised just how oppressive these institutions can be. Each space or sub-space is so enclosed that all sense of the outside world is quickly obliterated.



To me, Severalls spoke not so much of death, but rather of oblivion - a kind of bleakness - and many of the accounts in Gittens book testify to something similar. The architecture is so restrictive and oppressive that it rendered many patients mute and defeated – content to do little more than rise, eat and then shuffle back to the ward for their medication.


One feature of asylums to which I doubt I shall ever adjust is the silence.
Going about my everyday life, I fail to appreciate the persistence of some kind of background noise. Even when walking in the countryside, there is always the background ferment of crickets or squirrels – and it is only really in an abandoned building that you are able to experience a silence that is absolute and sustained.
By the time I’d made it to the kitchens, even the sound of a shirtsleeve brushing against my waist seemed deafening.


Water Tower :
The thing I wish most to communicate about the building is its sense of peacefulness and safety. Viewed from the footpath it seems incredibly forbidding (before entering I was convinced I was going to die!) - yet once inside all unease vanishes. Nervousness stems from a fear of being caught, nothing more.


I can’t wait to climb it; I can imagine the view from the top, but want it to be reality.


The hole feels a lot smaller than it appears (5 brick courses = 375mm) I carefully balance on the rotting pipe work below the access hole.


I expect to arrive at ground level, however I find out that the tower has a basement. I balance there for a moment, staring down at the oily water some 30ft beneath me.








Arriving at the top, I find a 6 ft gap between the top of the ladder and the ledge where I want to be:



But you will notice a brick ledge on the right, and a riveted seam to the tank on the left...
Let’s go.




I step out onto the ledge. I forget about my vertigo as the sheer scale of the hospital becomes apparent. It stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction.






Someone tells me not to look down. I look down.


The only problem with being out on this ledge is that you do advertise your position to the patrolling security. I’ve just spotted them; have they spotted me?


I make my descent down the inviting-looking stairs, which lull you into a false sense of security before presenting you with a deadly missing tread.


At the bottom I make my way carefully across the rusty pipe which is now acting as my balancing beam.
I peer out of my entrance hole, wondering if the coast is clear, just as two pairs of boots and black trousers walk past. I give it five minutes to let the patrol past before making my speedy exit.


The water tower really bought home how much Severalls was like a complete town. It had its own maintenance teams, who also acted as surveyors and engineers, who would adapt and work tirelessly to keep the hospital running.

Plant:




Sign Making Workshop:







The Grounds:
“..Getting lost in the lovely grounds. There was plenty of places to look and come to terms with one’s feelings, whereas the new mental hospitals they just haven’t got the facilities. They’ve got tiny gardens, which are locked often. You don’t have the space. It was an asylum, so that in the grounds, you know, you were safe. It was an asylum, and yet you were free.” - Former Patient


In almost all accounts I’ve read of the hospital, be they by staff or patients, one of the most common motifs is the hospital’s grounds. Many patients speak not just of their calming effect, but also of their contribution towards recovery.




‘Metal Pirates’ have even cut the electricity mains serving the site in a desperate attempt to own the valuable metal contained within the cables.




Paperwork:
I entered one room to find it was knee deep in paperwork. All confidential. From patient records to receipts and invoices. It’s a shame that this is still here rotting in the damp.









The Mortuary:


As with any asylum there is the sense of finality – of traversing the outer reaches of suffering and endurance. The nurses may have been kind, the grounds beautiful – but these buildings still represent life at its most attenuated and fragile.


Security / Access:
Security at Severalls is now the strictest it has ever been. It is essentially a building site worth tens of millions of pounds. It is also a public liability nightmare; the insurance must be insane. If it were easy for a member of the public to simply ‘stroll in’ the chances of them really hurting themselves is a certainty.


There are no less than three perimeter fences, the inner most fence being 12ft high and made up of razor sharp palisade ‘spears’.



Furthermore, there is a very active security presence on the site. Last time I visited I watched their routine carefully before attempting my entrance. It took them nine minutes to do a complete patrol lap of the perimeter. I knew how long it would take me to negotiate the fence, where I would be visible from, and with this I could time my entrance accordingly.


Occasionally, the guards would patrol inside the buildings, both with and without dogs. This had to be overcome, the corridors are so long, and have so many windows it is extremely easy to either be seen or literally ‘bump into’ security.

A lengthy period of research revealed that there was a network of service tunnels running under the hospital. They would be pitch black, and full of asbestos, but I know that I could use this to my advantage. The guards do not appear to carry torches, nor are they equipped with any respirator protection.


Further research even led me to a layout drawn up by a surveyor who had worked at the hospital.


With all the right equipment: Respirator, two torches, and a complete map of the tunnel system, I have successful managed to evade the security patrols on every occasion.


Future
Many asylums have a ’28 Days Later’ atmosphere - post-apocalyptic wastelands burdened with signifiers of death and illness – and yet Severalls seemed different. Everywhere there were traces of pain and suffering, but the mood was still one of gentle decline. Perhaps it was simply that much of the fixtures and fittings were so antiquated – but the overwhelming feeling was simply of a building whose life had run its course.

Proposal for flats:
The hospital may now lie derelict, but it remains very much a part of the local consciousness. (Certainly there is nothing of remotely the same scale within the town’s boundaries) Approaching the site, its water tower dominates the skyline. Even when riding the bus, several people mentioned it in passing; and it is still a regular news item in the local press. With each generation, perceptions of the hospital change (it appears that fear has now been supplanted by curiosity) – but the hospital retains a prominence greater than in almost any other town…