Street art perspective – mostly Brick Lane

Monday, 20 September, 2021

Looking out of my window this morning, I saw the white tagging on the black utility box opposite being swiftly painted over by some Hackney workers. They  posted a notice on the box, no doubt discouraging any future painting. As if they could really.

Not all street art is skilled. I’m particularly not fond of the lettering graffiti or so-called tagging, which is just scrawled writing, often on top of other nicer art. I used to like Banksy, but got bored of the political statements and sameness, although he still produces some nice images. In fact, I’ve had favourites that fall from the top of my list as my tastes change or I get weary of the consistent style.

Down in Penge, there’s a street art group that nurtures and organises street art in South-East London. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in East London, which strikes me as odd when so there’s so much here.

If you’re a fan, you’ll find a lot in Penge and Annerly, Camden, Croydon, Shoreditch and thereabouts. Hackney Wick has always been plastered with art, but this is changing as the new luxury flats and corporate offices are appearing. (Time to go back and see how that’s coming along.) Hackney Central and Dalston aren’t really on the list. I find it, of course – this is London – but there’s not a lot of note. Perhaps if someone produced something splendid on that black box there’d be less hurry to paint it over…

Walking down Brick Lane a few weeks ago, I decided to photograph some of the lesser known, not as attractive stuff. I wonder how long it would take to cover the length of Brick Lane on both sides, taking in the streets that intersect it… Even when it’s untidy or unskilled, or just consists of ‘paste-ups,’ the colour and chaos lifts my mood and intrigues me. Some of it has been there for so many years that I no longer know what came first and what might have popped up recently. The chaos of it creates equal chaos in my brain – how can I remember it all when it’s like a giant memory game. In fact, if anything here is posted twice, it won’t surprise me.

I’m putting this next one last so I can explain: it’s a Dan Kitchener art piece that’s been tagged over and over. Now, Dan often includes some tagging in his own art, a sort of tongue-in-cheek nod to the practice. The original art is now pretty much hidden, but look at the droplets of water he created. I’m glad they’re still there. He’s famous for rain soaked, multi-reflective and muted work and this is a great reminder of that.

On the weekend, I went on a walk called Global Dalston. I learned something about Dalston’s multiethnic roots. I’ll blog about that another time.

Sometimes I take people on a walk and it always includes street art. Occasionally, I pick up cues that the person with me has zero interest in what I’ve shown them. That’s OK. It’s not for everyone. I have friends who think street art is nothing but vandalism. I have friends who favour street artists I don’t care for. It’s nice when a disinterested person walking with me is tempted to take out their phone and capture the art for themselves. When I think about taste in art, my mum comes to mind. She was an accomplished artist who showed talent from a young age, but whose art career was cut short by WW2 and then marriage. She was repulsed by black velvet paintings and said so at every sighting – ‘They have terrible taste.’ One day I couldn’t resist –  ‘You know, mum, thousands of people love them. Maybe it’s your taste that’s off.’ It was naughty of me and earned me a sideways glare, but there it is.

I’ve always liked dereliction and chaos, unattracted by tidiness and order. I put it down to my childhood, growing up in what people called the slums and I called home, playing in the bomb-damaged streets, and my earliest memories of London as a crumbling, sooty, rundown city that I somehow loved. Maybe I’m right about where this love came from and maybe I’m not. No point in making excuses. I see no merit in Picasso. Taste is taste.