#thiswastomorrow

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This Was Tomorrow

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This Was Tomorrow – Reimagined

3rd press - very limited run - the UTOPIA edition -

I'm very happy to share the third edition of This Was Tomorrow—a new, limited version of the book originally available at RIBA Bookshop and the London Review Bookshop.

The words are by Judith Martin, architectural conservationist and historian. The design and production? That’s a collaboration between me, Richard “Foe” Grainger (whose layout instincts are wicked), and the excellent Porto-based Devity Studio.

This version isn't just a reprint—it’s a reimagining. Less book-as-object, more object-in-motion. A tool, a companion, a field recorder for stray thoughts and sharp provocations. It’s playful on purpose, a little rough in the right places. Designed to clash with the seriousness of its themes—and to help shake something loose. Because the point of this book has never been just about buildings or preservation. It’s about utopia—not as some unreachable dream, but as a tool. A lens. A way of thinking better futures into existence. And if you haven’t noticed, we desperately need to.

The last 30 years of global economics have stripped us of the ability to imagine alternatives. We live in a system where constant growth is the law, gain is the only measure, and hard work is sold as a magic key. And yet, here we are: people working two jobs and still unable to pay rent, while serial landlords and passive shareholders hoard resources with zero effort and even less empathy.

Calling housing a human right? Radical. Suggesting that rents should be capped? Revolutionary. Meanwhile, owning ten flats and renting them all out is “smart investing.” Nothing about this setup is fair—or even functional. And let’s not pretend it's “charity” to question it.

If people don’t have homes, or peace of mind, or a sliver of spare energy, they can’t even participate in this system. Not even as good little consumers. Capitalism is stalling. And the ones with private islands? They’ll be fine. But the rest of us need to wake up.

Because no one is coming to fix this. Not some politician, not a startup, not a prince charming in a Patagonia fleece. It’s all for profit now. Everything—except the love we share, and the corners of nature that still resist.

There’s so much potential in people. And don’t believe the story that humans are selfish by nature. That’s just the bedtime story the wealthy tell themselves to sleep at night—an old, boring fable by those terrified of sharing.

The answer isn’t to have nothing. The answer is to rethink what having even means. Property isn’t sacred. Technology should improve lives, not build empires. Money is a tool, not a destination. Being rich doesn’t make you interesting—it just means you’re good at hoarding. Good for you. Now what?

When platforms have millions of users, they’re no longer “private ventures”—they’re public utilities. And they should be owned as such. Imagine building systems from the ground up, where laws reflect lived realities, not just protect those sitting on piles of capital.

The myth of the self-made billionaire? Absolute fiction. At best, your skills make up 5% of your “success.” The other 95% is your environment—your family, your networks, the schools you could access, the chances you were given. We’ve built a system where only the extraordinary make it out. Everyone else has to contort themselves into some perfect, productive, high-functioning version of what? A servant? A brand? A smiling pitch?

That’s not human. That’s eugenics with better PR.

We’re standing at the edge of another industrial revolution. Like in the 1800s, we have the tools to work less, share more, and rebalance the equation. But will we? Probably not.

And not because people are asleep. Most are acutely aware—of rent swallowing their wages, of managers ignoring frontline insight, of the sheer energy it takes just to stay afloat.

The problem isn’t ignorance. It’s isolation.

People feel the weight of the system, but there’s no story that links their personal struggles to the wider machinery behind them.

Instead of questioning wealth concentration, they’re told to fear immigrants. Instead of seeing landlords as extractors, they’re told to become one. We’ve been sold the myth that success is personal and failure is moral—that if you’re not thriving, it’s your fault.

What we need, collectively, are stories that make sense of what we’re living through. And spaces to act on that knowledge, together. New blueprints. New pathways. New narratives.

This book is not a solution. But it’s a contribution. A signal. An invitation to keep dreaming, even when hope feels pointless. Because if we give up on that, we’ve already lost.

Let’s keep building—even if it’s just thoughts, questions, new ways of seeing. From the cracks of the current mess, something else can grow. -------

Each copy is handmade, with a lot of care and a bit of chaos—so we’re keeping things slow.

If you're interested, drop me an email or reach out to me on Instagram to order.

Il'll try and get back to you as soon as I can to sort things out personally.

No big shop, no buy now button—just real people and a bit of patience.

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TWT // Museo da Quinta de Santiago, Matosinhos, Portugal - 2025

The title of this work takes direct inspiration from the landmark 1956 exhibition This is Tomorrow, held at the Whitechapel Gallery in London’s East End. That show was a bold, collaborative venture that brought together architects, artists, and designers to explore the idea of a shared future. It challenged the norms of its time, presenting a vision that was forward-looking, experimental, and deeply rooted in collective imagination.

The original exhibition layout was designed by Erno Goldfinger, while the catalogue—striking in its lowercase title—was designed by Edward Wright, embodying the spirit of modernism and experimentation. Contributors included Alison and Peter Smithson, photographer Nigel Henderson, and sculptor Eduardo Paolozzi—figures who redefined the relationship between art, architecture, and society.

We’ve titled this project This Was Tomorrow to reflect on those once-hopeful visions of the future—on their ambition, and on the promises that went unfulfilled. It’s about revisiting a time when dreaming of a better tomorrow felt not only possible, but essential—and asking how those dreams still resonate now.

The project began as a book, created in collaboration with architectural historian and conservationist Judith Martin. The book investigates the legacy of post-war modernist housing projects, reflecting on their ideals and how they’ve endured (or not) over time.

This exhibition is a second iteration of the project—an expanded revision that builds on the themes initiated by the book and opens them up for public dialogue.

CREDITS

ORGANISATION Matosinhos City Council

PRESIDENT Luísa Salgueiro

COUNCILLOR FOR CULTURE Fernando Rocha

PROJECT COORDINATION Clarisse Castro | Tânia Teixeira | Cláudia Almeida

EXHIBITION DESIGN David Marques

TEXT Enrico Policardo

PRODUCTION Devity Studio

PRODUCTION SUPPORT Grupo TEC – Engineering and Construction

COMMUNICATION Devity Studio / Matosinhos City Council

RECEPTION & SUPPORT Edgar Gomes | Louise Palma Lurdes Geraldes | Margarida Fonseca Marta Calado | Patrícia Flávio Rute Marques

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Ja Voltei

February 2025 Residency for ESAD IDEA  Matosinhos, Porto - Portugal

The ESAD IDEA residency expanded This Was Tomorrow into a new cultural context, shifting its focus from architectural critique to a broader investigation of how collective futures are imagined, built, and often deferred. Centred on Brito Capelo Street in Matosinhos, the project explored the visual language of economic stagnation, public memory, and cooperative housing. What began as a study of decaying utopias evolved into This Was “Já”, a reflection on suspended futures and grassroots resilience. The resulting photographic series, produced on-site, functions as both critical record and interactive object: printed double-sided and left unfolded, inviting viewers to reshape, fold, or reconfigure the images. This gesture reinforces the project’s central idea — that meaning, like architecture, is never fixed. Instead, it emerges from shifting perspectives, social dynamics, and the fragments of yesterday’s dreams.

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Britolism

Images serie Matosinhos, Portugal - 2025

The format of the images themselves plays a key role in the work’s conceptual fluidity. Printed double-sided and left unfolded, they invite interaction—viewers are free to fold, rearrange, or repurpose them as they choose. They may form patterns, construct origami, clean their shoes, or build paper boats and planes. This engagement underscores the project’s core idea: everything remains malleable, interpretable, temporary, and never set in stone. The phrase Volto Já may or may not emerge through the folds, revealing itself only by chance—just as the high-rise facades of Matosinhos, Porto, and beyond may appear or dissolve into abstraction. This element of unpredictability mirrors the way urban narratives are shaped—not by fixed truths but by shifting perspectives, fragments of memory, and lived experiences.

The initial brief for this residency was to expand the artistic exploration of This Was Tomorrow within a local context, shifting away from the Brutalist setting—less common in Matosinhos—to extract its essence. The goal was to explore the decay of old utopias and understand how this phenomenon manifests in public space.A key realization emerged: This Was Tomorrow was fundamentally about dreaming of the future and how those aspirations materialized—or failed to do so. This theme resonated with Brito Capelo Street, where Enrico undertook an immersive residency, later extending the project to peripheral areas of the greater Porto region.

Brito Capelo Street was once the civic and commercial heart of Matosinhos, bustling with people commuting to work, shopping at local businesses, and enjoying the café culture. However, with the administrative shift to a new municipal center and significant changes in social life, the street has become a shadow of its past. Today, it holds remnants of Portugal in the early 1990s, where businesses and property owners remain committed to the idea of building a better future through commerce. The frequent sight of Volto Já ("Be Right Back") signs on storefronts symbolises both a promise to return and the precarious reality of economic decline—businesses on the brink of closure or already abandoned.

This tension, between the belief in an impending economic revival and the stark reality of stagnation, became the conceptual foundation of the residency’s visual exploration. The project evolved into This Was “Já”, capturing the paradox of a future endlessly deferred while the present remains in a state of decay.

The photographic series produced during the residency serves as both an aesthetic and critical document of these spaces. The images capture the architectural plasticity of cooperative housing, its quiet resilience, and its overlooked significance in contemporary urban discourse. More than just a record of the past, this work reintroduces these environments into the present conversation, raising questions about how individuals take action when formal structures for progress are absent.

The format of the images themselves plays a key role in the work’s conceptual fluidity. Printed double-sided and left unfolded, they invite interaction—viewers are free to fold, rearrange, or repurpose them as they choose. They may form patterns, construct origami, clean their shoes, or build paper boats and planes. This engagement underscores the project’s core idea: everything remains malleable, interpretable, temporary, and never set in stone. The phrase Volto Já may or may not emerge through the folds, revealing itself only by chance—just as the high-rise facades of Matosinhos, Porto, and beyond may appear or dissolve into abstraction. This element of unpredictability mirrors the way urban narratives are shaped—not by fixed truths but by shifting perspectives, fragments of memory, and lived experiences.

This documentation does not claim historical accuracy or objective truth; rather, it embraces flâneurism, voyeurism, curiosity, and speculation. It is not a definitive representation of reality but one version among countless others—one of many yesterdays, one of many tomorrows.

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