The Lego imagination

It has been a bit quiet on the blog front recently, the result of a house-move, too much to do, and not enough hours in the day to write it all up!  But in amongst the madness and the mayhem of getting the house ready in time for Christmas, we managed to put a day aside to get up to London’s ExCeL Centre, and step into a world of bricks, blocks and minifigures – Brick 2014, one of the great pilgrimages of the Lego fan.

This blog has already established the limitless possibilities of Lego, but it was interesting to read Justin Parkinson’s article on BBC News Magazine last week, entitled Has the imagination disappeared from Lego.  Too many big pieces, too many instructions, too advanced, too... Prescriptive?  Parkinson debates both sides of the coin, without really drawing his own conclusions or opinions (good writing, I think.)  So, has Lego lost its imagination?  Read on for my take…

Top of the visit list at Brick 2014, the Fan Zone, where exhibitors (admittedly mostly adults) have shown what imagination they still have, in creating everything from skyscrapers to mountain hideaways.  Some of their work is seriously impressive, but what always astounds me is the minute level of detail that these builders go to.  A bubbling Jacuzzi.  The cooking of a pirate on a Polynesian island.  A tiny penny-farthing propped up on a Victorian street scene.  Lego makes an impact in the macro, but what remains in your memory is always the micro, and for me, this is where the toy really comes into its own, where it always steals a lead on its market competitors.  Lego’s attention to detail is terrific, a quality that has clearly not gone unnoticed by its legions of followers.  Even as a child I poured over the catalogues, looking out for the witty little scenes (I even remember seeing one slightly naughty scene going on at the side of the railway station – clearly one for the mums and dads!)  In those days, you could sometimes collect a poster for your wall, and these provided hours of entertainment, where there was always something new to spot.

I suppose there are two reasons for my visit Brick 2014.  Firstly, I like the models, their scale, their sense of fun, but also their architectural brilliance.  But secondly, perhaps more pertinent, is the nostalgia.  I like to see what other people have done with the sets that I used to own, to reconnect with those “I used to have that” memories.  Early 80s children may well remember the Fabuland series, the Lego world inhabited by animals, and the associated story books.  Here at Brick 2014, laid out across several square metres, was Fabuland itself – every house, every car, and every creature, calling you back, ringing those bells of childhood and screaming “hey, remember me?”  Yes, I remember Fabuland – how could I forget the bulldog policeman, the florist lamb, the grocer rabbit, and their idyllic, simple little world?

Lego, I think, will always inspire children.  Through building their own worlds they will learn about the world – about history, science, society.  One builder had set about the painstaking task of recreating the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, from the Anglo-Zulu War, an event that even I had to look up when I got home, proving that the power of education isn’t just limited to children.  Give a child a toy, with a theme, and surely they’ll naturally pursue an interest.  Building Airfix kits got me interested in the Second World War.  My mum’s old jigsaw puzzle of English counties sparked an enthusiasm in British geography.  And I know that having Lego knights, forest men, monarchs and bandits was at least a contributing factor, setting me on the road to a love of history I’ve held since I was a boy.  Kids are not stupid – and if they’re anything like I was, they look for the context in things because it gives an even richer, more fascinating playtime.

I think it’s unimaginative to suggest that Lego is unimaginative.  For the roads that lead out of this plastic brick toy will take you anywhere if you allow it, and if you yourself have an imagination.  In fact, I’d go as far as to say that, in the age of 24-hour mobile technology, where computer games are on-tap and kids’ TV beams preconceived ideas straight into young minds, Lego’s need in childhood is greater than ever.  How else can you create a whole cityscape in your own bedroom?  Journey to an exotic island on a pirate ship?  Storm a castle with a catapult and steal away the king’s treasure?  Just accept that the carpet is a vast, endless ocean, believe that the bed is a huge, treacherous mountain, and you'll find it all there for the taking, there if you have the imagination to begin with, whether you follow the instructions to the letter, or create your very own off-the-wall creations.  Maybe the girl with the Lego castle will grow up to be an archaeologist.  Perhaps the boy with the pirate ship will one day join the Navy.  It may be that they’ll never touch Lego again; but it might just prove to be one of the biggest influences in their young lives.  Has the imagination disappeared from Lego?  Nah, I don't think that's possible.