It’s been less than two years since I wrote the following words in this very paper: “Something needs to be done about the Keiller Centre.”
Since then, the chronically ailing Dundee shopping centre has had a go at renaissance, under the leadership of NeoN Digital Arts and, later, local gallery owner Kathryn Rattray.
These seemed to be good-faith efforts with an optimistic, creative vision of a new, cool Keiller Centre: a flexible-use space which could host indie shops and pop-ups, with night markets and even gigs.
I could almost see it – musicians wailing against artfully paint-spattered walls; students in dungarees serving up flaky vegan pastries to table-top gamers; craft beers in posh paper cups; screen-printing and 3D printing and, for some reason, a bike shop.
And I admit I was cautiously bought in, if dubious about how it would actually materialise.
Then a photography exhibition in conjunction with DC Thomson delving into Dundee’s past was a smash-hit, and seemed to signal the dawn of this hip new era under those fluorescent lights.
And suddenly it became clear that the Keiller Centre runs on two things: nostalgia, and grunge.
A flicker of hope wasn’t enough
That exhibition attracted a crowd of older Dundonians who still carried memories of the Keiller Centre in its heyday, as well as a younger set who saw it as just unloved enough to be cool and countercultural.
In an increasingly sanitised Dundee city centre, there are few places which have inspired such warmth from multiple facets of our local community.
And yet it seems like that exhibition was less of a breath of new life and more of a death rattle for the centre.
It finished, but shopfronts remained shuttered. The place lapsed back to its ghostly quiet, with the only real buzz being that of those lights.
And so it was back to that original statement: Something needs to be done about the Keiller Centre.
The good news is, something is finally happening.
Something is better than nothing…
I was relieved to read The Courier’s report that new owners 1881 Limited are planning to repurpose the centre, and tear it down if needed.
Clearly, drastic action is needed here, and though these decisions are hard, it’s heartening to hear that owners are willing to make them (and that Dundee City Council are willing to support them).
And as my previous columns have stated, I’m all for progress when it comes to Dundee’s city centre.
We can’t cling to the past just because it used to be great, and I’ll ultimately keep banging that drum.
Still, there’s something troubling me about this Keiller Centre announcement.
The plans seem to centre “much needed student accommodation” and include a vague reference to “high-quality public realm”.
What does this mean? Is this the proposed green space? Will the benefit to the public constitute some cold metal benches and an expensive sculpture?
…but is this the right thing for Dundee?
The Keiller Centre, much like the Wellgate, is woefully empty, underused and in need of attention. I’m glad they’re both getting that. But some people aren’t.
For some people in our community, these are the last vestiges of the Dundee they know.
When I used to cut through the Wellgate each day, I’d see a wee old man with a flat cap and a blue jacket, sitting on one of the benches with his walking stick.
Fondly, he’d watch his wife rake the aisles of the charity shop next to him. This was the shape of their mornings.
There’s a woman in a fuzzy hat who I’ve met several times on my way into the Keiller Centre, struggling with the door. I don’t know what she does when she gets in, but she does it a lot.
There are whole communities in these buildings: hippies and smokers and struggling single mums giving their kids’ fiver ‘shopping sprees’ in the pound shop after pay day.
Progress shouldn’t leave folk high and dry
A handful of bargain and charity homestores, old school newsagents and windchime-and-incense shops might not be the beating heart of the city’s economy.
But the people who frequent these two centres have their own beating hearts, every single one.
I wonder: What happens to them?
When there’s no more of these “unloved” places, where do those who still love them go?
Dundee deserves all the progress it’s getting, no doubt. And maybe the best use of the Keiller Centre really is a bunch of flats and fairylights and some slate grey monoblock.
But there was hope, for a moment, that this special old shopping centre could be something exciting and new, while bringing along those who cherished the old.
I’d hate for the city to become hostile to those who have always called it home.
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