I already knew that Sheffield is a mecca for street art. One of the foremost street artists, Phlegm, is based there. He once did a huge mural in Toronto and I went by a few times, once seeing him at work and, when he came to get a coffee (black) at the bar where I was sitting, I uncharacteristically lost my nerve to say hello and ask him some questions. Well, I’m not always that person. To be honest, I don’t really like the St Clair mural he did then and I don’t understand why he diverted somewhat from his usual style. Whatever that is, I’ve seen it elsewhere in the world because it’s unique and unmistakable.
But…back to Sheffield. I had a street art map and some notes from my friend, Susanne. I also knew that I couldn’t walk that much so I would see what I’d see, not look for anything specific, and I was sure to come across things in the centre of town. This page is a landing space for the art I did see.
I have almost definitely put some things in twice (you may not even notice, but tell me if you do) and I will caption only the ones I have something to say about.
On Kelham Island – You could insert yourself into the scene and these young women were taking photos of each other doing just that. They scurried away when they saw me ready to take a photo. Considerate!
On Kelham Island – There was a good representation of art made from different coloured bricks in walls. I’d seen this done in Milan before…Framed art on Kelham Island. It was a bit curious seeing it there, tucked out of the way in a little mews type road – would be a lovely spot to live
More brick art near Castlegate. This one seemed iconic – its called Steelworker
We were on our way out of Sheffield to the train station and we passed this hill. There’s no way I could have climbed it, no matter how much I wanted to. It’s a goal nowSign language near the train station – can anyone read it?OK – Gruesome!
These last three photos are Phlegm art
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Phlegm art taken by Krish when he wandered without me
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.
Eliminating street art
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.
Not actual street art but the instantly recognisable Doc Martens soles – clever pavement artOakley street art inspired pavement stencil. Increasingly, corporations are taking note and these days you’re likely to see corporate-sponsored art by known street artists on the walls around town. Maybe it’s a slippery slope…On Brick Lane, many shops have art over the whole facade, sometimes only the doors. This one has decorated the outside, inspired by everything around it
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.
The one nice Dalston mural in Gillet Square is obscured by hoarding as they regenerate. I hope it’s left intactOn Kingsland Road, I wasn’t sure if this was street art or painted by the business, or sponsored by them. No signature
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.
I really am getting out more. I’m more relaxed about how much my knee hurts while I’m out there and how much it will hurt later! That doesn’t mean I’m actually relaxed, but compared to a month ago, yes. As well, the rain and very dreary weather has pretty much eased up. We even have a sort of intermittent heatwave (which is actually a paradox). Standard moan – yeah, the flipping mask, the crutch, the bag or two, the camera, the phone, the juggling of the whole damned thing makes walking a challenge, and taking photos even more so. I take my photos in a hurry, I see things I just know stopping for to do my juggling act won’t cut it…I think to myself, if only I could just take these photos with my eyes, with my voice…and, you know what, there probably is an easier way and perhaps I need to explore that – or at least figure out why my Huawei phone doesn’t allow me to voice-activate with ‘Smile’ or ‘Cheese’ like my LG phone did. And that’s that! Krish bought me a Gimble, look it up. I know there are great opportunities with it, but I fret about how to use it and how to hold it and how to carry it around. Hmm.
I’d love to get out of my comfort zone a bit with these journeys, see somewhere or something new. At the same time, this is what I can manage, so accept the same old territory. I really do see new things, or old things with new eyes. It helps. For now, at least, I’m treading the same ground.
Anyway, I finally saw the Afghan dresses – fewer of them were displayed than I expected, but I saw them last Wednesday on the hottest day of 2021, at 27C. I went with my friend, Christine.
Above Honest Burgers at 12 – 13 Widegate Street, there are four glazed sculpted panels showing the various stages of baking bread – installed in 1926. They mark the location of the Nordheim Model Bakery, which rustled up beigels and other Jewish delights for those who lived in the surrounding alleyways and beyondKings Stores pub, 14 Widegate Street, is named because it was the site of a huge munitions store under Henry VIII. In this area is Artillery Street and Passage, as well as Gun Street
Inside Townhouse at last, we asked to see the dresses and went through to the small gallery building at the back – it’s the size of a small living room. The exhibition was smaller than expected, but the dresses were lovely. You can read what inspired the exhibit and the dresses’ owner here. I enjoyed seeing the ideas the dresses’ creators had. The mirrors, embroidery, extra braiding and stitching. I mentioned to Chris, it reminded me of the shirts I’d made Jimmy (my first real boyfriend) when I had no idea how to make clothes, but pieced them together in shapes, creating curves with my stitches and not my scissors. You could buy these pieces. They ranged around £250-350.
Townhouse is a lovely store with antiques and crafts, Fournier Street
I think about my blog every day. I think about writing for it every day. A day becomes a week becomes a month. I’m at once restless and lethargic, and how do I come to terms with that?
I’m not exactly sure.
My mother always told me, Janice, you think too much. She was right. What I think most about is other people. Who are they? What are they doing? Why don’t I know them? Where do they live? What do they eat? What are their lives when they are not in front of me, inside my head? Yes, all of that and more.
The short version of the story is I’m not getting out much and I’m not seeing that many people. Lockdowns combined with a deteriorating knee keep me indoors and away from things I normally love to do. I try to think about people who have written whole books while being (what I consider) prisoners of home and even bed. My hat’s off to them. Yes, the stories are still in my head but I lack the motivation. I’ve heard that inspiration is something being taken in, and motivation is about movement – a driving force. Motivation is more closely connected to external stimuli, while inspiration is based on the internal stimuli. I’d say that right now I do feel inspired, but not really motivated. So if I’m not getting out that much, external stimuli are dampened, and the thoughts stay inside my head. So let’s get them out a bit.
I say I haven’t been out much, but I’m blessed by living in an area that is infinitely walkable (even now, and even though that might be limited) and infinitely fascinating. Those who feel at one with nature have a hard time understanding that. In nature I understand the peace and beauty, but as large as the vista might be, it’s harder for me to examine. Where are the people? Maybe I don’t want to face the person who is there – me. Hmm.
Right now ‘me’ is a person who can barely walk. My knee has given up and more than a few minutes on it becomes unbearably painful. Except I do bear it, and don’t want to. I’m doing my best. If I don’t try, then I’m missing out on so many things. Throughout the pandemic, I’ve managed what I could. Now my radius is shrinking and I’ll still do what I can. So let’s look at what I’ve managed to do and think positive and look ahead.
Not in order but a smattering of life chez moi at the moment.
We are still mourning the loss of a favourite haunt, Poetto – a nice pizza and pasta with friendly service. Gone a few months before lockdown. Maybe it was a blessing for them.
Krish noticed a dragon standing over a building – now building supplies but we’d love to know what it was before. I’ll keep researching!There was apparently a tram depot in Clapton and this is the yard. Nowadays it’s a collection of rental studios for film and photography called Hackney Studios. Notice the ghost sign, centre right.After the tram depot, we visited Tram Shop. You can normally have a meal here, but right now it’s a general store. We found a few things to buy, none were food.I wanted to buy something at the Dusty Knuckle in Dalston. By the time I made it there (damn you, bad knee) the shelves were bare. Absolutely everything had sold out. This is the alley leading down to the bakery yard.
I hadn’t been in the Curve Garden for months! It was looking very green and wasn’t too busy. So Melodie and I sat by the Stik wallart and Melodie, who used to be his landlady, sent him texts, unanswered. I’m still a groupie, it seems.When Krish had his vaccination, we made time to visit Fremont Street, home of my great grandmother and father, and where my maternal grandmother was born. Along the way we saw Five King Edwards Road, once a women’s fashion factory, now fancy flats.We think this grand facade was likely the offices for the factory. Such elegant stonework.
6 Fremont Street. My maternal great grandparents lived here. It seems strange that I am now only 1km away from an ancestral home. Strange but fitting.My maternal great grandmother, Phoebe, with my maternal grandmother, Charlotte (looking incredibly like my mum)
Tesco Morning Lane. In just one year the world has changed. Shopping is a new experience and sometimes it feels like it was always like this, especially when I see people looking like they are used to it.
I have always been a bad needleworker, but I enjoy creating things, watching them take shape. I made these ‘postwoman’s gloves’ from a simple pattern and decorated them. I’ve now made a third pair in light orange.I went for an XRay on my knee and made sure I stayed a while in front of the Stik mural in one of the courtyards. On 28 March the clocks went forward in the UK. The evenings are longer. The trees on Sandringham Avenue will soon be in leaf, and the skies will stay lighter.
Low Traffic Neighbourhoods have taken cars away from some smaller streets and forced them to the larger streets, like mine. Every day starting around 3pm the parade of cars begins, ending almost four hours later. Continue reading “COVID – Restlessness and Lethargy”
I haven’t been to Old Street or Moorfields since lockdown, and probably for quite a while before that. I’ve had plans to get on a bus and walk around to see what street art has popped up. Somehow, I’d not made it there. This trip wasn’t going to achieve that either. It was dark, cool and windy, and the object of the journey was to keep Krish company on his latest visit to Moorfields Eye Hospital. He’s been a patient since July 2019 when his sight started to be strange after an episode of shingles during June of last year. Let’s skip over that story for now!
His appointment wasn’t going to last long, we thought (it lasted a few hours) and Krish had noticed that a huge Stik mural had been revealed during some construction. I wanted to see that. So the plan was that I’d wander around a bit and meet him after he’d seen the doctor. We took the 55 bus which goes along Mare Street, down Hackney Road, and across Old Street – a twenty minute or so journey.
An Instagram user told me a bit about this wall art —
That this ‘Shoreditch Past Present Future’ mural will be obscured by the Art ‘Otel is beyond irony…..they made a huge deal about how they preserved the Banksy when the old Foundry building was demolished but there were many other significant pieces of art in there that the developers had no interest in…..
It was hidden by a giant advertisement hoarding but occasionally came back on view for a few days/week as the ads changed. The new hotel is circular but there is a second building going up adjacent to the mural – not a high rise but we should all make the most of the current full view of this art.
So I’m glad I went to photograph it. I went there first in case I ran out of time. The light was already fading on a fairly dull day. I considered trying my original plan to go down Rivington Street and perhaps Great Eastern or even to Curtain Road to see some ancestor stuff John had told me about. However, the dark was encroaching and I thought instead I should meander over towards the hospital and see what I could see over there.
I headed down Leonard Street to Tabernacle Street, named for Whitefield’s Tabernacle a former church at the corner. The first church on the site was a wooden building erected by followers of the evangelical preacher George Whitefield in 1741. This was replaced by a brick building in 1753, and rebuilt in stone over a century later in 1868.John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist church, preached a sermon “On the death of the Rev Mr George Whitefield” here.
Moorfields Tabernacle – a rather large building on a narrow streetThe pillars of the church were elaborate but neglectedThen I noticed this through the raiings – Central Foundation Boys School (1865) – my mother attended Central Foundation Girls School and, funnily, this school is the beneficiary of The Dulwich Estate, where I once lived – link upon link
A surprise around every corner in London – often several!
Looking from the old back streets to the modern Old Street buildingsIt was so quiet in usually chaotic Hoxton. Most offices were dark and deserted. All working from home now.
I was feeling a bit hungry and, as the sun went down, I was feeling the chill. I walked up City Road towards the hospital – through the large roundabout I’ve always thought was so ugly. On the corner of City Road and Old Street is a massive red stone building that I’ve not usually paid close attention to. Today I would. Continue reading “Moorfields and Old Street”
