Plinth potential

Seeing this utilitarian cabinet beside the railway, I thought: 

“Wouldn’t it be fantastic if that could be used as a plinth and have a sculpture on top?”

I remembered how I have wished that some of the communications services cabinets along our streets could be designed as miniature Greek or Roman temples, or maybe a Constructivist monument to the noble work of the postal workers. 

Then I thought:

“Wouldn’t it be brilliant if there were competitions to turn many of the wayside utility cabinets along roads and railways into art or design objects?”

I had visions of busts of the workers who keep the rails functioning, or a statue of a hare or tractor or fish. It could be part of a modern interpretation of a herm or a term. I thought of a sculpture of a vase of flowers with coloured glass blooms.

And then I thought:

“Wouldn’t it be fascinating if some of the street cabinets could incorporate very local history into the art or design?”

Surely most of us have passed streets with name plaques that made us think:

“Why did they call it that?”

Maybe the cabinet could tell us. Or maybe it could give us a clue that sends us walking round looking for other clues, because streets are often named in groups when towns grew rapidly. Perhaps it could tell us who owned the land 200 years ago, 500 years ago. Maybe it could mention that the old wall in front of a modern block of flats was built in the 19th century to enclose a wealthy manufacturer’s house.

I suppose those who own the boxes prefer them to be discreet and dull; and can see that it could be undesirable to draw attention to them. We do have a lot of very dull street furniture these days, however. Businesses could sponsor the artifying of these boxes. They could incorporate a QR code to lead people to a website to sell the sponsor’s services or goods.

This kind of street furniture offers so much plinth potential for landmarks.