Imagine a race against time to preserve towering giants of concrete that once powered our world, now fading into oblivion—do we let them vanish, or can we reinvent them for a sustainable future?
Dive into this fascinating exploration with me as we uncover the hidden beauty and cultural heartbeat of the UK's endangered cooling towers. The Twentieth Century Society, a dedicated conservation group, has spotlighted seven captivating photographs from their recent publication, Cooling Towers. This visually stunning book delves deep into the artistic, architectural, and societal roles of these massive structures, framing them through the dual lenses of design innovation and popular culture. It's a heartfelt call to action, curated by the Society during their relentless push to protect what's left of Britain's cooling towers. Today, a mere 37 of these behemoths stand across five locations in the UK, a sharp decline from the heyday of 240 in the 1960s. As Catherine Croft, the charity's director, poignantly warns, "The window to save these cooling towers is slamming shut." She adds that they're disappearing at a rate of six to eight annually, meaning by decade's end, they could be nearly extinct. "It truly is now or never," Croft emphasizes. "After nearly 50 years of advocacy and architectural activism, safeguarding a batch of cooling towers represents our most formidable challenge yet."
But here's where it gets controversial: Are we prioritizing nostalgia over progress, or is there real value in holding onto these relics of a fossil-fuel era?
Traditionally, the Twentieth Century Society champions preservation by showcasing a building's architectural elegance and historical importance. Yet, for these decommissioned cooling towers, that strategy hasn't gained traction. Campaigns director Oli Marshall explains their fresh approach in compiling the book: "We've intentionally broadened our scope. Sure, we highlight their incredible design and engineering prowess, but we also examine their role in the scenery and honor their broader influence on culture." Marshall notes that these structures are extraordinarily picturesque, boasting breathtaking images captured by some of the 20th century's most acclaimed photographers. The Society hopes this volume will unveil the "unexpected allure" of cooling towers, inspiring readers to back their petition (https://www.change.org/p/save-britain-s-cooling-towers) for conservation instead of demolition. Moreover, they aim to demonstrate how these outdated giants can be adapted (https://www.dezeen.com/2024/10/03/cooling-towers-reuse-under-threat/) for modern, eco-friendly energy systems as the UK shifts toward greener grids. Croft reflects, "We're accustomed to spotting cooling towers from miles away; they serve as those far-off landmarks that help us gauge our commutes home." "But get up close," she continues, "and you'll discover they're intricate sculptural marvels, crafted by leading engineers, architects, and landscape designers of their time."
And this is the part most people miss: How these functional relics could spark creativity in a world desperate for sustainable solutions—could repurposing them symbolize our transition from old energy woes to new environmental hopes?
Let's break down Croft and Marshall's curated selection of seven strikingly photogenic aspects of these threatened cooling towers, explained in a way that's easy for newcomers to grasp. Each one comes alive through vivid descriptions and stunning visuals.
Tower Mouth
Picture this: Could cooling towers be the pioneering version of James Turrell's Skyspaces? The renowned artist has been designing these contemplative installations since 1974, offering spaces for reflection that shift our sense of light via a ceiling opening to the heavens. Though built purely for practical purposes, gazing at the sky through the wide-open "mouth" of a cooling tower stirs a similar awe. This shot captures the inside of one tower from the paired structures at Tinsley in Sheffield. Tragically, they were torn down in 2008, despite a passionate local effort and spotlighting on Channel 4's Big Art Project. These were the UK's final pre-World War II cooling towers, underscoring the urgency of preservation.
Internal Walkway
Here's a slender pathway that stretches across the entire width of the tower, offering a tangible sense of its immense proportions—standing over 114 meters high and 30 meters wide. That's roughly two-and-a-half times taller than Nelson's Column in London, and spacious enough to engulf the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. Their dramatic, movie-set vibe has made cooling tower interiors popular backdrops, from Terry Gilliam's dystopian film Brazil to Pete Postlethwaite's Among Giants, and even recent episodes of the BBC's Sherlock series.
Coffin Doors
These quirky oval-shaped openings, often dubbed "coffin doors" or "hobbit doors," sit about one-third up the tower's side and served as the sole entry for maintenance crews. Their unusual shape stems from the tower's curved design, a math-based form called a hyperboloid. Despite the towers' colossal scale, the reinforced concrete shell is just 17 centimeters thick—think of it like a delicate eggshell, where the curve itself provides the strength.
Eliminator Screen and Packing Level
Cooling towers earned their name from their role in power plants. In the blistering heat of coal-burning boilers, water transforms into high-pressure steam that drives turbines to produce electricity. To keep the water cycle going, turbine steam needs chilling and recycling. The eliminator screen—a mesh barrier—and the spray pipes in the packing level boost the surface contact between water and air, making heat exchange more effective. For beginners, this is like increasing the area of a sponge to soak up more moisture more quickly.
Lattice of Columns and Curtains of Water
As cooled water flows down the tower's interior, it trickles through the packing level into a basin below, ready for reuse at the plant. This creates a mesmerizing waterfall effect at the base, with water droplets veiling the grid of concrete support pillars. Only about 2% of the processed water vaporizes out the top—often wrongly called steam or smoke—and each tower handles more than two billion liters per hour, illustrating their efficiency in managing massive volumes.
Concrete Struts
Given their imposing size, it's counterintuitive that cooling towers aren't anchored deeply into the earth. Instead, they're balanced on a delicate circle of V-shaped concrete legs, giving an airy, floating impression. This design allows fresh air to naturally rise from the bottom, cooling the water down to around 20 degrees Celsius. It's a clever engineering feat, like a giant on stilts, maximizing airflow for better performance.
Concrete Exterior
From afar, these towers look sleek and uniform, but a closer inspection reveals a textured surface etched with grid patterns from the wooden molds used in their construction. Different sites incorporated varied materials to blend into the surroundings, such as the rosy and rusty-hued towers at Ironbridge B Power Station, which echoed the local soil and stone before their 2019 demolition.
The main image is by Scrappynw.
In wrapping up, isn't it intriguing how something as utilitarian as a cooling tower can inspire art, culture, and debates on heritage versus innovation? Do you believe these structures deserve a second life in our green energy landscape, or are they just outdated eyesores? Share your thoughts in the comments—do you side with preservationists, or do you see demolition as inevitable progress? And what controversial ideas do you have for repurposing them—perhaps turning them into massive art installations or eco-tourism hubs? Let's discuss!
