The brutalist arts-and-towers complex, where even great explorers get lost, is showing its age. Let’s hope the 50th anniversary upgrade is better than the ‘pointillist stippling’ tried in the 1990s

The Barbican is aptly named. From the Old French barbacane, it historically means a fortified gateway forming the outer line of defence to a city or castle. London’s Barbican marks the site of a medieval structure that would have defended an important access point. Its architecture was designed to repel. Some might argue, as they stumble out of Barbican tube station and gaze upwards, not much has changed in the interim.

The use of the word “barbican” was in decline in this country until the opening in 1982 of the Barbican Arts Centre. Taking 20 years to build, it completed the modernist megastructure of the Barbican Estate, grafted on to a huge tract of land devastated by wartime bombing. The aim was to bring life back to the City through swish new housing, energised by the presence of culture. Nonetheless, the arts centre, the elusive minotaur at the heart of the concrete labyrinth, was always farcically difficult to locate. To this day, visitors are obliged to trundle along the Ariadne’s thread of the famous yellow line, inscribed in what seemed like an act of institutional desperation, across concrete hill and dale.

Architect who pioneered the idea of the collective workspace as a socially and economically supportive environment in London in the 1970s

Now a familiar part of modern working life, the collective workspace, whereby small firms share office space and communal facilities, was the brainchild of the architect David Rock, who has died aged 96. He established a pioneering working community at 5 Dryden Street in Covent Garden in 1972, at a time when London’s famous fruit and vegetable market was in decline, and the wider area was resisting ambitions to terraform it into the West End equivalent of the Barbican. Characterful old buildings were available and ripe for conversion and Rock, in his role as an enterprising architect-developer, spotted an opportunity.

At Dryden Street, a collective of more than 30 independent, design-related firms was billeted in a remodelled 19th-century warehouse, with fashionably exposed brick walls and timber roof trusses. Rock recognised that it was often small outfits that exuded the greatest energy, potential and creativity, and that a communal workspace could offer a different kind of socially and economically supportive environment. After Dryden Street came a similar initiative in Chiswick, west London, where a former Sanderson wallpaper factory was converted into the Barley Mow Centre, providing workspaces for craftspeople, designers and architects.

Japan House, London
The fruit of a two-year odyssey through the workshops of artisans using ancient techniques, this delightful show features rippling chestnut trays, exquisitely turned kettles and vessels crafted from petrified leather

As a retort to the doom-mongering prognostications of AI’s dominance over human creativity, it is momentarily comforting to tally up the things it cannot do. It cannot throw a pot, blow glass, beat metal, weave bamboo or turn wood. Perhaps, when it has assumed absolute control of human consciousness and the machinery of mass production, it will be able to. But for now, throwing a vessel and weighing its heft in your hand, or carving a tray and sizing up its form with your eye are still the preserve of skilled craftspeople, using techniques their distant ancestors would recognise.

On show at London’s Japan House is the work of more than 100 pairs of eyes and hands, constituting an overwhelming profusion of human creativity, corralled into an exhibition of laconic simplicity. About 2,000 objects – bowls, trays, cups, metalwork, glassware and some perplexing bamboo cocoons – are grouped according to their makers on long, softly lit display tables. At first glance, you might think you have stumbled into an especially refined John Lewis homeware department, but then you notice the delicate black and red lacquer work, the gleaming gold on the inside of a perfectly shaped sake cup, the intricacy of the bamboo and some eccentrically shaped vessels, like alien seedpods, that look like ceramics but turn out be a kind of petrified leather.