This place needs no introduction. It was perhaps the quintessential asylum. Not only was it of mammoth scale, but its architecture seemed perfectly aligned with what stereotypically springs to mind. It was one of many across the country of what I loosely dub the ‘second wave’ of county asylums - those built close to the turn of the twentieth century after the mid-Victorian originals, often as overflows. When you compare the architecture of these two periods, it becomes obvious how the later examples such as Severalls opted for a more streamlined and simpler approach of understated Edwardian elegance, still bearing neo-classical features yet turning it down a notch compared to their palatial extravagant Victorian forefathers. In a similar fashion to West Park, as years of decay set in, the russet terracotta brickwork became layered with dirt and rainwater and became a more drab greyish-brown. The broken windows became gaping wounds in the building, and ivy grew up its sides like a suffocating disease. Its overall appearance was bleak and imposing, and its diabolical scale, acutely-angled maze of corridors, and symmetrical echelon layout gave the impression that this place was from a forgotten era of eldritch horrors.
Sevs-chic (le freak?)
When looking at the converted sections now, the architecture appears quite beautiful. But at the time, it felt antiquated enough to appear outdated, yet not quite decorative enough to shake the sense of industrialised solitude that one associates with a lunatic asylum. Often, the recreation halls, fancy admin buildings, and quaint airing shelters of asylums actually challenge their stereotypes, but Severalls lacked such surviving embellishments. Maybe this is why it was such a popular explore, because it gave people everything that they expected. I always think of Whitchurch as a rather colourful and ornate asylum, but Severalls felt like anything but. The NHS’ closure of the asylums is perhaps the closest the UK has come to having ‘ghost towns’ in a vast and culturally-significant way, with perhaps Whitchurch being the last big enough to qualify. Even now, I can’t really believe the scale of this place, but given that they were self-sufficient communities with all amenities included, I don’t think ghost towns is an inaccurate description.
360 panorama of the site
THE HISTORY
Severalls Mental Hospital’s foundation stone was lain in 1910 and it was opened in May 1913 as Second Essex County Asylum. It was primarily designed by local architect Frank Whitmore and arranged in the popular compact arrow layout connected by vast corridors, using an echelon plan which saw the wards arranged in interconnected zig-zag fashion around the edges in a chevron shape. Before the hospital really got going, it was requisitioned by the military for use briefly as a camp and then as a military hospital. In the early 1930s, the hospital went through a period of further change, with additional villas and nurses’ blocks being added, as well as its name being changed to Essex and Colchester Mental Hospital. During WW2, the hospital was allegedly mistaken for a factory and bombed by a German aircraft, with three bombs striking the west wing with numerous casualties. Unlike Runwell, I don’t know of Severalls ever having had any air raid shelter facilities.
Like many asylums, Severalls joined the NHS in 1948 and entered a period of gradual demise post-WW2, with governmental pressure and shortcomings in practices becoming more entrenched. Controversial therapies such as electroconvulsive therapy and prefrontal lobotomies were all carried out here - this place had it all. Diana Gittins’ Madness in its Place - the definitive study of Severalls living, paints a grisly picture in which a certain Dr. Sherwood was brought in during the 1950s to perform the experimental new lobotomies. The following (rewritten) account presents a grim picture of the hospital.
Dr. Sherwood was soon given the boot by the superintendent from Severalls for his pseudoscientific ways. This hellish story was no doubt one of many which defined experiences in the asylum, and supports the view that they could indeed be inhumane and flawed institutions, although whether they were originally like this when they opened or simply went downhill in their later years is arguable.
1997 photograph by Joe Allen
As the care in the community act set in, the hospital began to wind down, with much of it closing in the early 1990s. The last remaining facilities at the site closed in 1997, signalling an uncertain future ahead. Severalls was abandoned, and fell into dereliction over the subsequent years. In the early 2000s, the urban exploration scene emerged online which coincided perhaps uncoincidentally with the closure of the asylums, marking a new era in the hospital’s history. It sat abandoned and largely undisturbed until 2015 when clearance and subsequent demolition began to take place over the following two years. The hospital site was purchased by several housing developers, perhaps explaining why only part of the building’s wards were converted. Housing began to be complete with people gradually moving in over 2017 onwards, with ultimately only the western male wards, admin block, water tower, Larch House and airing shelters escaping demolition. The recreation hall burnt down in the early 2000s due to arson, although the other obvious choice of a piece worth saving was the stunning chapel. However, this was also demolished. I think I heard due to structural issues but not entirely sure. The conversions have been done well, providing an accurate impression of what the buildings would’ve looked like in their heyday, although the overall impression is one of disappointment given that such small parts of a huge site were saved. Unlike Warley, Severalls’ more plain architecture ultimately may have cost its survival.
THE VISITS
So there is one catch to this report. It was really a permission visit. But at the age of 18, it was quite an impressive feat to obtain the opportunity and we may never have documented the asylum otherwise. When I started out, Severalls had this legendary reputation as the big daddy of Essex urbex, yet also had some of the better security a bando has seen. @KismetJ first contacted the NHS hopefully for access with the intention of filming a documentary on the hospital to go on our website you may or may not know I’ve been posting on since 2011. Well we’d been told that except for news crews, no camera crew had ever been allowed to film at the hospital, with even the Discovery Channel being denied. It wasn’t all because we were too young and intimidated to explore it the conventional way, but Kismet’s video equipment wasn’t the sort of thing you could throw over a fence and pass into a smashed window. In 2015, handheld mirrorless video cameras had barely emerged on the market, and he would be using a full-size broadcast camera along with a hefty tripod of the kind that had to be carried slung over a shoulder. It was an ambitious project that would result in the remains of Severalls being captured on film in perhaps the highest quality that they ever were. Some of you may remember the announcements at the time, there was a lot of hype surrounding it. Unfortunately, the passion project became too momentous a task as life got in the way and Severall’s fate unfolded in front of us, so it never came to fruition. However, last year I got the footage off of Kismet which would see him pass the baton onto me. Ten years later, I’m in the process of making a reimagined feature-length film on the hospital which is about 40% underway, and if you’re interested in giving your thoughts or contributing to it in some way, give me a shout. Yes, it’s gonna go on YouTube eventually, but hey, it’s a convenient place to stick non-profit documentaries, which is and why we always have dared use the platform. We were there before the goons, and we’ll still be there after.
Some of the camera kit involved
So now the confessions are out the way, it’s time to get into the details of our visits. The first time we went was for a health and safety recce, which Kismet had to produce some very in-depth risk assessments for. It consisted of meeting with an NHS staff member, acknowledging that we’d taken heed of the multitude of hazards within the site, and then continuing to wander round regardless. I honestly found it all a bit much, and it was a bit disconcerting to hear the staff talking quietly amongst themselves about the various sources of asbestos present whilst leaving us just do our thing. I even remember when the drone got flown indoors and created a mini-tornado of Severalls-dust. I guess if you’ve ticked the boxes on the form, it’s all good. On our first visit, we had the pleasure of meeting Michael, the security legend known to have had exceptional wits and cunning and really took it upon himself to do his job properly. None of this buying armadillos and camera towers to do your job for you. Whilst at Severalls, he was engaged in a sportsmanly war with urban explorers; whom he termed ‘bloody urbans’. He showed us the mortuary, although by the time we did our two subsequent visits, Michael had moved elsewhere and the security guard had changed. It’s quite ironic that at the time, the NHS staff responsible for Severalls were unsurprisingly quite peed off at urban explorers and they’d never had allowed us access if we presented ourselves as such (at the time straddling closer to the line with local history enthusiasts). However, take it as a win for 28 that here I am 10 years later posting my pics up in a report. I suppose that proves the point that all urbex really is is a word to describe taking an interest in abandoned buildings, rather than being fixed to one group of people or ideals.
Walking around a courtyard with the post-Michael secca and estate manager
We visited the hospital site twice over the next year for some pretty thorough coverage of the interior (as much as reasonable to expect for the huge site) and a few more times for peripheral shots and externals. We even managed to get a drone operator involved, which is pretty good considering that consumer drones were very much in their infancy. I have to give the credit for most of this to Kismet, as he organised the whole thing. I was simply tagging along to take photographs, and that’s how this happened. Following my renewed interest in asylums over the past few years, I decided to give my Severalls photographs similar treatment to what I did with my Runwell post and ‘remaster’ them. So I’ve been working on re-editing the photographs over the past few months, involving upscaling them, correcting the perspective, exposure, and white balance, giving them a sharpen and other sorts of lightroom magic. It hasn’t been a quick job, but I think I’ve managed to bring the photographs more in-line with the quality of pictures I’d take today. I used an entry-level Nikon D3100 back then - not a bad camera, but I didn’t really know how best to use it and shot most things on auto mode. I do regret not getting a wide-angle lens or taking more shots, given the rare opportunity, but I’m bloody chuffed I got to see Severalls in the first place. I don’t know how I’d live with myself these days if I let it pass without ever seeing it.
I didn’t return until the Severalls site until 2022 when I went for a solo mooch round to see what was happening with it. It turned out to be an enjoyable afternoon, and the clean streamlined buildings which survived made for good subjects to practise some architecture photography. I came away with two main emotions; gutted it was mostly gone, and inspired to do something with the 2015 material. The dreary oppressive feeling of the hospital was no longer present, instead replaced by a polished new-build estate. It was good to see a few information boards about the asylum complete with images, and there’s even a memorial to the bombing casualties outside admin, so at least the history hasn’t been entirely ignored in the new development. Now for the photographs.
The post-conversion male wing
THE SITE
I think Sevs has to win an award for place with the most health and safety signs. Given the size of the site, I think they accepted the site could never really have all its windows secured or its hazards signposted, so they opted for a catch-all approach at the gate and secca patrols inside.
ADMINISTRATION BLOCK
Probably the nicest conversion of the hospital buildings. It would’ve formed the centrepiece of the hospital. Similar to the rest of the hospital’s design, it was fairly simple and undecorated, yet has a certain elegance. It’s interesting comparing the burnt-out boarded up shell back in 2015 to what it is today.
2015
2023
Frontage of the building in 2022 post-conversion
The hospital's foundation stone
2022
2015
Entrance foyer
The gorgeous staircase
The covered up skylight. Unfortunately where the admin block was boarded and fire-damaged, it appeared pretty gloomy.
We had to access admin by climbing in through a hole in the roof of these toilets. They were somewhere to the building's rear.
CARRIAGEWAY
The north side would’ve been the working end of the asylum which kept it running on a day to day basis, away from most of the wards. The yards in the north-west were industrial in nature, bringing goods in and out via the coachway and lobby and also containing the water tower and boilerhouse. The east side was for laundry etc, I suppose roughly in-keeping with the gendered halves of the complex. I didn’t photograph everything here but here’s shots of a few bits.
The buildings connecting admin (left) to the rest of the complex, with the yard leading to the carriage arch (beyond the right).
The carriageway arch into the inner courtyard. Stores was on the right hand side, but we'll cover that later.
Staff mural on the left-hand side of the carriage arch opposite stores.
Ironic...
Access to the corridors on the inside of the carriage arch
TBC...
Last edited:
