It needs the next phase to enclose the space, mediating the scale shift from the buzzing hive of human activity and the domineering presence of the cliffs beyond. Fowles has, of course, already thought of that, working with Bigham on a new kitchen facility, welcome building and middle-scale connecting walkway between.
The factory itself rests calmly on its elevated footing, dual-banded façade in dialogue with the datums of the quarry ridge lines, materials blending with the shifting landscape. The building eschews perspective, sitting proud of the landscape on an off-white podium, meeting the sky with an articulated roof rhythm, tending towards saw-tooth, but not quite.
‘The two biggest buildings in this locality are here and Wells Cathedral – an extraordinary building,’ he says. ‘This space is about the same size and about the same height …. you know, just … coincidentally.’ And the connection between the two spaces? ‘Have you ever been to the Covent Garden Opera House? If you go upstairs, there’s a window, looking over the floral hall. I remember going there just after it reopened and saying: This is quite cool. We must do this.’ And so they have.
Back in 2015, this was a risky endeavour for both parties. Bigham, known for his efforts to raise the bar on ready-made food since establishing his firm in 1996, took a punt on a small practice with a few well-considered education buildings but no industrial experience, and certainly not on this scale. Feilden Fowles’ risk was trusting this smart, savvy businessman to do what he said, and not use them as the friendly face of big industry.
Working with Charlie has been transformational for our practice. It offered an opportunity to scale up conceptual ideas previously applied on smaller £2-3 million education projects, as well as scaling up the studio’s systems and procedures, enabling us to tackle a more complex £20 million project.
With an experienced contractor engaged early on, it was a smart move to lean into the inevitable system design constraints, massaging grids and forms to better serve the people inside the building. Even the contractor’s Fordist mentality of ‘you can use any material, as long as it’s Kingspan’ was absorbed, considered and then tweaked, slightly – ‘even the timber panelling is an embellishment of a standard system, bending the rules just a little bit,’ says Fowles.
‘Yeah, I think it’s great!’
The core conclave are constantly revising their big vision to share with new team members. Bigham seems amused by other people’s struggle to adopt his affable magnanimity. ‘Every now and again we get someone new in here, and they say “well you could just put a mezzanine in that double-height space, use that for some storage”. And I always think: how do you really not get it?’
Publicist Claire Curtice remembers the hunt for what Charlie calls ‘a little bit of magic’. ‘We looked at lots of sites that were all grassy triangles between three roads,’ she says, ‘but then we came here and kind of had to break into the site… I remember looking at Charlie and thinking “this is going to be the one”.’
The gold-rush aesthetic is a wry yet consistent motif throughout the project. It began with Feilden Fowles’ research into the site’s history, analysing the irregular, ad-hoc structures built to house industrial machinery and the human behaviours around them. This whimsical honesty of form and materiality has been reinterpreted by Fowles and his team, into a method for teasing out every moment of joy from the synthesis of a linear production process, stringent hygiene requirements and the kindness needed to sustain a hand-crafted process.
We notice a patina forming on the upper levels of the Kingspan panels and under the photovoltaics – something to which Ed is more averse than I am – and the timber has silvered out, apart from a hoop under a protruding window sill. Even the raised concrete plinth – struck at a datum to give a view out over the cars and filled with leftover aggregate from the site – is starting to pick up the terracotta tinge of the bedrock, bleeding up from below.
‘Do you ever drive down the A303?’ Charlie Bigham is hosting us in his office, a timber-framed, glass-fronted, open-doored room off the main office space in his factory in Dulcote Quarry. Feilden Fowles director Edmund Fowles nods. ‘Well, they’ve been building loads of warehouses there,’ says Bigham. ‘It’s not a bad site for a factory, it’s right next to the road … but I thought, my god this is depressing. Then you come round here, it’s uplifting!’
This shared legacy is under constant review, curation and critique throughout our visit. There have always been plans for a central pedestrian route, a chequerboard of production kitchens and green spaces, pavilions in the landscape and even an education centre.
Feilden Fowles’ pitch to Bighams was also attractive for taking the long view, treating the site like an education campus and engaging with the romance of both its past and its potential. ‘What was really powerful was the enthusiasm with which ideas were met,’ says Fowles. ‘We would come forward with some old pictures of quarries. Some clients would think “What the heck are you doing?” But Charlie understood there’s a value in situating the visual identity of the building in the past of the site, it gives it more weight somehow.’ These photos now line the meeting room walls; clearly this approach chimed with Bighams’ commitment to embedding itself in the timeline of the place.
We’re talking about the genesis of his seemingly archetypal food factory; a steel portal frame, seven bays long and 50m deep, dubbed the Quarry Kitchen, nestled in a rewilded quarry near the Mendip Hills in Somerset. Unsurprisingly for a man who founded his multi-million-pound business on the core belief that if you have a good process, you end up with a good product, opening a warehouse on an industrial estate was never going to cut it.
‘It’s just a really pleasant place to work and train people, and through that, to promote good food and a healthy lifestyle,’ says Bigham. Impossible to refute, but now Bighams has one building exceeding expected productivity and an overflow car park established in the interim, plans need to change.
Start on site October 2016
Completion November 2017
Gross internal floor area 7,860m2
Construction cost £17 million (excluding land value, production equipment)
Construction cost per m2 £2,160
Architect Feilden Fowles
Client Bighams
Structural engineer (pre-planning) Structure Workshop
Structural engineer (post-planning) PEP Civils & Structures
M&E consultant TSL Projects
Quantity surveyor TSL Projects
Project manager TSL Projects
CDM co-ordinator PB Safety Consultancy
Civil engineer PP Construction
Landscape architect Grant Associates
Specialist timber subcontractor Timber Workshop
Main contractor TSL ProjectsSustainability data
All of this grounds the building in its situation – it seems both strikingly new and as if it has been here forever. ‘If we’d had our own way, we wouldn’t have used Kingspan panels,’ says Fowles. ‘We would have used a more changeful material … galvanised or unfinished tin that can be left to weather on its own.’ A seductive narrative but one that carries the potential for technical problems down the line. Not unlike the north-facing timber cladding, which will hopefully be dismantled and reassembled for the proposed 12-20m extension to the packaging hall. Bigham is kicking stones out of the subsoil and squinting up at his building, taking an interest in our murmurings about the joys of material weathering.
Conversation turns to how his practice positions itself as an alternative to the High Tech movement which ‘pushed things too far towards machine-made perfection’, causing buildings, and processes, to be cold, even sterile. It’s a stance not unlike Bigham’s ethos for founding his company in the first place.
Bigham has been making high-quality ready meals since 1996, originally from a kitchen in north London. His company has found itself at the forefront of conversations about sustainable agriculture, trust and quality in manufacturing, and acceptable working practices.
Fowles gets it. And he’s keen to discuss where Bighams can get more out of its spaces, such as the first-floor courtyard that is too hot in the summer and too exposed in the winter. Design ideas like the green entrance courtyard haven’t fully emerged either, partly because although the trees are thriving, the space is exposed on three sides, making it an uncomfortable place to linger.
With a second planning application recently submitted and phase two on the cards, now seems like a good time to return to ground zero and explore what it takes to cultivate quiet, collaborative brilliance in a rocky Somerset wasteland.
‘When you employ someone who you think is brilliant at what they do, you have to let them be brilliant’
The building has emerged as a polemic on the state of the food production system, and how things should be done
Yet throughout our visit, I notice how the gentle insistence on ‘following through’ has come to signify the transition from practical delivery of a building to a quietly radical stance. This building is no longer about doing the right thing because it’s what they believe in; rather it has emerged as a polemic on the state of the food production system, and a proposal for how things should be done. For Bigham, this is something that evolved imperceptibly as they iterated the project, as much a product of the Feilden Fowles process as the building itself.
We have stayed closely involved with Bighams, initially through building visits and tours, which gave us an informal means of assessing how the building was performing. We are now working closely together on plans for the next phase: a second building comprising a central storage and dispatch facility, linked to the phase 1 kitchen by a ‘cord’ building.
Fowles and Bigham’s account of the design development reveals the considerable analysis, model testing and persuasion that went into carving out this exact seven-ridged form, ideal for bringing in north light and perfectly angling the PVs. There’s no mitigating the heft of an 8,000m2 food production facility, yet Feilden Fowles’ ‘series of inflections’ disrupt the banality of an otherwise well-established, modular typology.
One striking theme of this project is the fusion between romance and pragmatism. As we arrive along a hulking A-road, a winding inlet gently drops the visitor from the quarry perimeter on to its floor, offering a sweeping view across the depleted limestone bowl towards the factory, resolute and purposeful in the back corner. Fowles remarks on the contrast between designing a building within an urban context, and this one ‘against a backdrop of rock…it’s inherently subservient to nature’.
Feilden Fowles positions itself as an alternative to the High Tech movement which ‘pushed things too far towards machine-made perfection’
Fowles smiles. ‘Well, we do need to deal with how 600 people get here every day. Did you think more about the shuttle bus?’
What’s striking about the buildings, and the way they are co-designing them, is how deeply the team share the belief that the right process will produce the best results. Bigham is clear that they were doing the project for themselves, and that any recognition, awards or fanfare was ‘the icing on the cake’. Curtice thinks they aren’t alone in their sustainability, gentle pragmatism and long-term thinking. ‘I think lots of the good eco projects in this country are under the radar,’ she says. ‘They don’t want to go for awards because then they get stuck and can’t evolve. So we thought: let’s just be “eco” and we don’t need to tell anyone about it.’
What’s been striking about Bighams is how it differs from typical food production facilities, which often suffer from very poor working environments with no natural light and little or no connection to the outdoors. At Dulcote, a constant dialogue with the landscape is established, both physically and visually. Windows into the production area are not typical in this industry. The addition of large expanses of glazing, rooflights and high ceilings has ensured daylight filters deep into the plan, transforming the working environment and employees’ wellbeing – an attitude to excellence reflected in Bighams becoming a B-Corp in 2020.