tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9936068159524319542024-03-12T22:45:39.333+00:00London SidelinesCultural events, streetlife, cycling, architecture and maybe even shopping in the capital city... but absolutely nothing about babies, house prices, how my new rhubarb patch is coming along etc.DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-37799655562533707642016-10-20T08:17:00.001+01:002016-10-20T08:18:24.384+01:00Sunshine and shadow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_w5DHhIf4uA/WAhsUHD5URI/AAAAAAAAE6Y/WfSJpPeA9nMnEiuErEWUEk1hqE_HUkMyQCLcB/s1600/IMG_4536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_w5DHhIf4uA/WAhsUHD5URI/AAAAAAAAE6Y/WfSJpPeA9nMnEiuErEWUEk1hqE_HUkMyQCLcB/s320/IMG_4536.JPG" width="480" height="360" /></a></div><p>In front of Kingsway college in Camden is a garden surrounded by a low brick wall, a square of mossy tarmac made special by the seated figure nestled among the dingy bushes. On this occasion there were in fact two seated figures, one permanently immobile, the other sitting in almost exactly the same attitude but busy texting. Taking photographs, you often miss this sort of moment, but the two remained still while I got my camera ready. Even so, it took a lot of work in Photoshop to reconcile bright sunshine and deep shade.<br />
<p></p>The statue is made of ciment fondue, which means working with wet cement rather than casting. It was made by Jean Bullock in 1977, the same year as the Sex Pistols released Anarchy in the UK, although it has nothing else in common with the whole punk thing.DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-49607763162442360162015-12-27T11:08:00.002+00:002016-02-16T08:23:32.397+00:00Christmas break<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eNnFf3ETFBY/Vm7muinSFHI/AAAAAAAAEG0/t3sFZFqdbG0/s1600/EMD%2BCinema-060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eNnFf3ETFBY/Vm7muinSFHI/AAAAAAAAEG0/t3sFZFqdbG0/s400/EMD%2BCinema-060.JPG" width="500" /></a></div><br />
London Sidelines is dormant, although it looks like it will stay here on the web for ever, like many blogs that were once a daily obsession. I think that is in the nature of blogging, unless it is hugely successful, to just tail off unintentionally, the entries becoming more and more infrequent until the last entry lingers tantalisingly, without any explanation as to why the author stopped at that point. I had fun with it while it lasted. Currently I've switched to writing <a href="http://www.walthamstownotebook.com/" target="_blank">Walthamstow Notebook</a> about my home territory in east London, a long-term view of that newly fashionable (or last-ditch affordable) and rapidly changing part of the city.<br />
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<i>Image: the Art Deco interior of the EMD Cinema in Hoe Street E17. The foyer opened as a pop-up bar after 12 years disused and boarded up, and looks like staying open for some time.</i>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-934054374951201732015-03-15T18:42:00.000+00:002016-02-07T21:15:12.576+00:00 Going to the dogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GMqVsYuIrno/VQXSxaAMcbI/AAAAAAAACgI/A_GQ5wFxEIM/s1600/Walthamstow%2BStadium-655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GMqVsYuIrno/VQXSxaAMcbI/AAAAAAAACgI/A_GQ5wFxEIM/s1600/Walthamstow%2BStadium-655.jpg" height="375" id="blogsy-1428221781328.3887" width="500" /></a></div>The old Stadium is looking tired and shabby, waiting for the rest of the new development to get a bit closer to completion I suppose, before it's worth doing any restoration. It was lit up the other day, perhaps a test run to see how much of the neon lighting still works - because the whole point of the iconic frontage is the way it used to light up at dusk. The 1933 Totaliser Building is crude 30s construction, painted cement render on cheap bricks, with nothing much in the way of interesting detail, just a plain backdrop for the well-known neon sign, the leaping greyhound and the Art Deco lettering. You just have to hope the developers do keep it lit up. The Stadium was listed Grade II, otherwise no doubt the whole thing would have been value engineered out, like the BMX track and climbing wall etc. I'm pleased to see this central feature kept, but not really convinced the car park has any real architectural value on its own, without the rest of the stadium buildings. At least its good to see the hideous metal railings have gone. They must have been added in the 1970s, when adding red tubular metal features to buildings seemed like a good idea.<br />
I went there once, shortly before it closed, had a great evening and won forty quid. Not because I know the first thing about dog racing, just by following what a friend of a friend was betting on. It was quite unique, the combination of the live races and associated betting on the one hand, and on the other the family-friendly night out - junk food and beer, what more could you want? Sophisticated it was not, but adults and children alike were happy. I was sorry to discover my first visit was also to be my last.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">*</div>Londonist published an <a href="http://londonist.com/2011/02/whats-going-on-with-walthamstow-stadium.php" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">article</a> about the 2011 alternative proposals which tried but failed to save the site for dog racing.<br />
DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-71653409566044452112014-10-08T08:36:00.001+01:002015-01-08T15:12:43.442+00:00The white bicycle
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<p> The mangled remains of a bike, chained to a lamp post on a street corner at Kings Cross. A complete bicycle, more or less - it even has mudguards and a bell. The whole thing painted white, not very carefully, flaking off the rubber to show black beneath. Wheels bent and detached as if some half-wit tried to steal them without realising they were locked to the frame. Not a pretty sight, like a dead thing decomposing on the pavement. You might wonder why the council leave it there in the way of pedestrians, collecting dead leaves and litter. Unfortunately there is a reason for that. In 2011 Min Joo Lee, a 24-year-old fashion student, was killed near there in a collision with a lorry. She was the eleventh cyclist killed in London that year. The bicycle is there as a memorial. But maybe it's been there long enough now? </p>
DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-26369082276455138062014-06-05T21:35:00.001+01:002015-01-08T15:12:28.957+00:00Clock this
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<p> The Clock House at 13 Pretoria Avenue is just one of the eighteenth-century villas built by wealthy families around Walthamstow village, at a time before all the terraced houses sprang up, replacing the orchards, market gardens and country estates. The area was favoured by merchants, early commuters who could live in style and take a conveniently short coach ride to the City to attend to business. The journey, about seven miles, must have taken no more than an hour.</p>
<p>Waltham Forest council's website has a page devoted to the listed buildings of the borough. It describes the Clock House as "Grade II: Regency style detached villa, erected in 1813 and the original Walthamstow home of the Warner family. Originally set in extensive landscaped grounds fronting Marsh Street (now High Street)". There's a china plate at the Vestry House museum showing a view of the house in its original park setting. Those landscaped grounds surrounding the house were soon developed, though, as Walthamstow became more built-up. The Warner properties along Pretoria Avenue were built in 1888, coming right up to the edge of the house, and Mission Grove was driven through what would have been the front garden. The grand entrance now looks rather out of place so close to the street.</p>
<p>I photographed the house as part of my project to document some of the interesting buildings in the area, and posted the photos on Flickr. Walthamstow man Dan K saw this one and sent me a link to his own photo of the house, with comments sent in over the past few years. A lady by the name of Amanda ("almost 44!") says "I was born and brought up in Walthamstow... We lived in Pretoria Avenue and Chewton Road - in Warner properties (and bought our house in Pretoria from Warners). I expect it's all changed there now - we moved when I was 16 and I haven't been back since my grandparents passed away in the 90s. I miss it - but don't want to go back because I fear it's changed out of all recognition." If nothing else, those new flats behind the house would be a surprise, but otherwise Pretoria Avenue can't have changed very much since then. She continues, "I remember seeing an old photo of it looking very grand in a park like setting - it belonged to the Warner family and I guess it was their home. When I was little it used to be a flour factory and I remember a HUGE chute at the back where sacks of flour used to be shot down to waiting lorries".</p>
<p>The present owner bought Clock House in 1999 when it was used as a warehouse, and spent a year restoring it as flats. He had a hard time convincing the council to allow the change of use, and had to comply with stringent Listed Building requirements for the way the work was carried out. The side of the house had been made into a two-storey advertising sign with lettering made of cement render, which you might think of as an interesting part of the building's history, but that had to be removed. The original stone portico was completely missing, and a new portico was built, no doubt at huge expense, to a historically accurate pattern based on old illustrations and photographs.</p>
DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-62166493852979360932014-05-21T19:03:00.001+01:002015-01-08T15:12:52.979+00:00In memoriam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/14052346509/" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5585/14052346509_5ac4f4f8eb.jpg" id="blogsy-1400695423012.5574" class="alignnone" width="500" height="375" alt=""></a></div><p> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The spot where Mark Duggan was shot in 2011. A few flowers mark the spot, recorded for a while at least on Google Streetview.</span></p><p> </p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-9312478365824712202014-03-20T12:15:00.001+00:002014-04-07T08:48:47.490+01:00Watching me watching you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/13286870044/" target="_blank"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7192/13286870044_06b65ba424.jpg" id="blogsy-1396856340615.1907" class="alignnone" width="500" height="375" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">A group of workmen installing a camera high up on a pole at a traffic junction in East London, where it is presumably intended to monitor traffic offences, <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">crime and civil unrest.</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> It will of course also pick up images of everyone walking across the junction or hanging out on the street corner. The chap in the foreground isn't posing for a photo, he's approaching to ask why I'm pointing my mobile phone camera at them. Asking politely, as in not making threats and demanding I delete the snaps, but still somewhat aggressively. Which is more than a little ironic, if you think about it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Actually though, a fixed camera is preferable to the alternative. There used to be a Smart camera car parked at the side of the road, blocking the cycle lane. </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">CCTV cars are allowed to park on yellow lines but blocking a cycle lane during the rush hour is not a great idea, throwing cyclists out into the stream of traffic. That was annoying, but not as annoying as the sense of being watched.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">A man in uniform sat in the car, watching. Not always the same man, one would drive off and another would take his place. Every time I walked past I felt watched, even though I knew they were there for traffic control, not random surveillance of the civilian population. They never made eye contact, but if they weren't looking up they could be looking at you on the screen. What a boring job, sitting in a car all day trying to look indifferent, cut off by </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">locked doors</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> and wound-up windows - of course you would watch the people and speculate about some of them. And what an unpopular job. Sometimes we would be treated to an appearance by the protest group that goes around following the spy cars on motorbikes, often wearing the notorious Guy Fawkes masks. They couldn't park but they would ride backwards and forwards across the junction, two to a bike, the pillion rider holding up a placard saying HIDDEN $CAMERA until the car gave up and drove away.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">There's something particularly objectionable about the spy cars, the combination of camera and person watching from the safety of a car. Before the cars, sometimes a policeman stood in the same spot, mainly to enforce the no left turn sign, but that was entirely different. W</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">ho would object to a person standing in the street, not to make money but to deter antisocial behaviour, out there in the open where you could pass the time of day, ask directions or simply make eye contact, acknowledge each other's existence. </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Once I got stopped on that corner</span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">, turning left with toddlers strapped into their seats on the back seat of my clapped-out Montego, and the police officer was so reasonable about it I thought, he's right, and never did it again, police presence on the corner or not.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">So, no more camera cars in this particular spot, and good riddance. </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The enforcement team is presumably watching a bank of monitors from some remote location, but at least you don't have to see them.</span></div>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-69744246374570935592014-03-04T07:43:00.001+00:002014-03-24T20:43:34.444+00:00Scaffolding palace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/12922592935/" target="_blank"><img src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2869/12922592935_e7a377ef4b.jpg" id="blogsy-1394142924158.823" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="331"></a></div><p>In the industrial depths of Walthamstow, and those do still exist, <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">you can find a baffling array of anonymous sheds, gleaming stainless steel structures of unknown usefulness, just two old factory chimneys (as far as I know) not to mention a thousand white vans. But the premises of M J Stapleton and Son, Scaffolding Contractors, are far from anonymous. Located across the road from the municipal dump (which is now a well-organised recycling centre) their huge enclosure is made entirely out of scaffolding poles and corrugated iron. Which makes perfect sense. The structure is picturesque, although you would not get away with this ramshackle approach in most places. The dump itself has a similar structure, purpose unknown - an open shed ten metres high, containing nothing more than a few old fridges. These pockets of industrial activity are not exactly attractive, but they give a sense of authenticity to the area, a sense that the place exists for a productive purpose beyond just being a place where people live, something that will be missed when the whole lot is pushed out by the ever-expanding demand for land for building blocks of flats.</span></p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-44434756896006013432014-02-14T23:45:00.001+00:002014-03-24T20:43:14.001+00:00Brick talkThis landed in my in-box, nestled deep within an unsolicited self-styled 'corporate report'. A certain pathos in the confrontation between the big confident man (check those muscles) and the shorter man with a servile expression. Especially when you read the word 'misformed' on his sweatshirt. Why isn't he wearing proper hi viz like a real workman? And why does that soft-focus brick in the foreground not match all the rest? It could be another caption competition...<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/12529313735/" target="_blank"><img alt="" class="alignnone" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7392/12529313735_fb8fdd2108.jpg" height="257" id="blogsy-1392421586371.5212" width="500" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.3em;"><em>With apologies to those being doubly exploited in this image</em></span></div>
DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-52906794496671907322014-02-12T14:02:00.000+00:002015-09-13T19:17:12.062+01:00A splash of colour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wadw7WTyg9E/Uvt-usTyXYI/AAAAAAAABj0/j57kivaS84U/s1600/Foyles-364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="" height="375" id="blogsy-1392363886772.9146" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wadw7WTyg9E/Uvt-usTyXYI/AAAAAAAABj0/j57kivaS84U/s400/Foyles-364.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The chaos that is Charing Cross Road, cut off from Tottenham Court Road by mega-construction work on the new Crossrail station, is temporarily made even worse by Foyles, which seems to have taken over the whole block. Scaffolding covers Foyles, at least I think it does, but most of it is something to do with Central St Martins Lofts who are presumably converting the old art college to disgustingly expensive apartments. The scaffolding does feature a rather nice mural by Rebecca Hendin, huge but not big enough to cover all the building works. Of course nobody paints a mural full size these days - it was probably done on her iMac - but there is plenty of detail. It's been there for ages apparently, but I just noticed it.</div>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-35383472272037583202014-02-02T09:07:00.000+00:002014-02-10T19:32:00.662+00:00Mirror mirror<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/12265349255" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3746/12265349255_6f15d0b7c3.jpg" id="blogsy-1391548242183.0752" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a></div>
<p>The mirror glass office block on Euston Road is a rarity, a huge building completely covered with an impenetrable skin of mirrors, right down to pavement level, so perfectly reflective as to give no hint of what might be happening inside. It stands out from its surroundings, reflecting the other buildings and on occasion drenching them with reflected light. Yesterday the low morning sun was bouncing off the mirror surface and covering the green and white hospital opposite with strangely intense dappled brilliance. Later in the day it often has a similar effect at the bottom of Euston Tower, with everything in deep shade except where the reflection hits, picking out the buses in a luminous bright red. Crossing Euston Road at lunchtime, you can walk into a pocket of brightness and be suddenly dazzled. But at least the facade is flat - so there's no question of the buses bursting into flame.</p>
<p>The building itself is tall and bland, reflecting the dull grey of overcast days, or deep blue and fluffy white summer skies. Move a bit closer and you get reflected plane trees, overlaid with the actual trees that line the pavement, the whole thing neatly divided up into rectangular panels by shiny chrome glazing bars. The glass isn't perfectly flat so all the reflections are distorted, quite a pretty effect. Closer still, you walk past trying to resist the temptation to watch yourself in the mirrors, not knowing if someone inside will be thinking, what a dick... you can't tell. Reflective glass is usually two-way to some extent, but this is apparently one hundred percent one-way mirror. You walk past wondering what goes on inside, what possible reason there might be for such intense privacy. But it's just the architect's conceit, a fad for using the latest glass technology of the time to glitzy if tasteless effect.</p>
<p>Oddly, the strong impression of opacity diverts you from realising that the building is not really opaque. I must have passed the place hundreds of times, and imagined perhaps twenty companies inside, dingy corridors and grubby carpets, but completely failed to realise that you can see inside if the lights are on, vaguely. Especially after dark, the strips of window are lit up almost like any other office building. That does allow a dim view of typical cluttered offices - the dimness makes it seem claustrophobic.</p>
<p>Finally, on impulse, I walked in through the entrance doors, encouraged by the constant flow of people in and out. Like any office building, it has an open front entrance, a lobby and reception desk, so I walked in along with the lunchtime crowd and stood there trying not to look conspicuous. I needn't have worried. The building is entirely occupied by University College Hospital and heaving with activity. It’s evidently an enclosed world known only to those who work there. Comings and goings are controlled, loosely, from the front desk. But you can walk straight through to a rather good canteen, incongruously set in a glazed vault, a pastiche version of a Victorian arcade, all green metal, bricks and potted palms.</p>
<p>It's antisocial and dated, a typical expression of the crass commercial architecture of the late 1970s, but in its way also rather special.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-8486107859212664272014-01-22T11:49:00.000+00:002014-01-27T07:16:35.024+00:00Skateboard heaven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/11797035033/" target="_blank"><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3738/11797035033_51468b2a9a.jpg" id="blogsy-1390379685773.604" class="alignnone" width="500" height="392" alt=""></a></div>
<p>The end of the holiday season and rain every day, not all the time but consistently dull overcast weather, drizzle and heavy downpours and just the occasional burst of uplifting sunshine. For once I had a three-week break but gardening in the rain wasn't tempting and long cycling trips were out of the question, so drifting down to the South Bank was inevitable sooner or later. Just before new year's eve, I found myself down there for the third time in as many weeks. It's one of the few places in London where you can be indoors without buying a ticket or eating a meal, sit around in comfortable chairs and use the free wifi, look at things and quite likely drop in casually on some kind of unusual entertainment. There are controversial plans for a huge new extension there, and if nothing else it was an opportunity to look at the way the place is now and what might be lost or gained if the changes go ahead.</p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Apart from the depressing scrum outside the London Dungeon and only a modest queue for the Eye there wasn't much going on. Nothing on in the Clore ballroom and only a small exhibition of old protest posters upstairs at the Hayward. Outside was bit like a tawdry funfair after the crowds have left: bright yellow staircases bolted on to the wet concrete, a few set-piece attractions scattered around and sad dim fairy lights overhead. A few people were pedalling the two bicycle-powered snow domes but it was hard to see any effect to reward their exertions. The Gift Factory, a plywood shed painted to look like brickwork, was being dismantled - the tall factory chimney lying on the ground while the walls were taken down. Looking down from Hungerford foot bridge, muddy water churned past one of the oval concrete piers. On the flat top of the pier, dozens of unwanted skateboards were scatted around like an abandoned art installation, a sort of impromptu skateboard graveyard.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The skateboarders at least were carrying on as usual, casually executing undemanding jumps and studiously ignoring the audience, such as it was. It's perhaps the most authentic attraction on this stretch of Thames riverfront, apart from the river itself of course. Change is threatening the status quo, though. A small group displayed a placard reading<em> <font color="#ff0f00">SAVE THE SOUTH BANK</font></em> and they were selling tee shirts with the same message. <em><font color="#ff0f00">Save The South Bank From Relocation, Support Skateboarding</font></em>, if you read the small text. The Southbank Centre has plans to develop the space and that will mean booting the skateboarders out.</span></p>
<p>Once upon a time, museums and art galleries didn't sell anything except a few postcards. Going back more than a few years, the QEH had a canteen-style cafe on the ground floor and a huge empty lobby: no bookshop, no restaurants, certainly no shops selling DVDs and designer junk. The Hayward was the same, a cafe on the ground floor where the bookshop is now, not a franchise but run by the gallery. I don't know what has changed to the extent that these places are now desperate to make money but that is certainly the case. Whatever the reasons, the Southbank Centre is hell-bent on expanding and they want more shops to help pay for that to become a reality. Nobody is saying, of course, how much of a difference a few lettable units is going to make. The place they have targeted for more shops is that skaters' paradise, the undercroft of the Queen Elizabeth Hall.</p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The undercroft is a sunken space with concrete walls, floor, ceiling, concrete ramps and steps, and distinctive mushroom-headed concrete columns, reflecting the brutalist aesthetic of the building above. It was not apparently designed for any useful purpose: it's just a left-over space that has been used for skateboarding and BMX riding since the 1970s. There is a sense of subversion about the place, with wall-to-wall graffiti (albeit neatly masked at the edges), no supervision, a complete absence of any kind of officially-provided facilities. It is very different from a purpose-made skate park, with none of the flowing curves you see in those places. That quality, the not-designed accidental suitability, is exactly what the skaters value. I haven't asked them, but their views are recorded at length on the Long Live Southbank and Save the South Bank websites. This place <em>is</em> the South Bank as far as they are concerned.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The protest is not particularly articulate, focusing as it does on the history of the place rather than its future value, and no doubt it will be over-ruled - even now that Boris Johnson has expressed support. The development proposals put income-generating retail space in this prime spot, inevitably, but a new skate park is also proposed to compensate for the loss of the present space. The skaters' campaign is in fact just the most visible part of wider arguments against the redevelopment proposal. The National Theatre has submitted a detailed statement of objection. The Twentieth Century Society thinks the sixties architecture should be preserved as it is: they commisioned an artist to make illustrations showing the huge glass extension dumped on top of the Albert hall, and another showing it resting on top of the Tower of London, to illustrate their point about cultural vandalism. Others think a huge insensitive addition on top of the Hayward is exactly in the spirit of the developer-driven culture of greed and appropriation that is rapidly changing large chunks of London.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">On the face of it, moving the skate park is a reasonable proposition. As the official website puts it, if the Southbank Centre were commercial developers that would probably not happen: the skaters would just be told they have had a good run for free, but not any longer. They do recognise the cultural value and they are trying hard to make the change palatable. Unhelpfully, they are also reserving the right to use the new space for their own events, and perhaps going the wrong way about designing a new space.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The published design is not an unashamedly modern, state-of-the-art purpose-made park. Quite the opposite, it's designed to look accidental, like a bit of post-industrial wasteland that's been tastefully adapted as a skate park. The proposal is ultra-careful to get it right, using French architects who have done this sort of thing before, and even the architects themselves claim to be skaters. Some actual skateboarding persons have even been brought in as consultants. But somehow they have missed the point. Iain Borden, the professor of architecture at University College London, and the man in charge of organising the proposals, admits it would be preferable to keep the existing undercroft.<em> <font color="#ff0f00">It's an impossible brief</font>, </em>he says. <em><font color="#ff0f00">We want a place that is great to skateboard in, but that doesn't look explicitly designed for skateboarding</font></em>. The protesters refuse to discuss this option at all, and I think they are right. Bogus authenticity: no wonder support is thin on the ground.</span></p>
<p> </p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-73893476281103695042014-01-21T19:20:00.001+00:002014-01-21T19:21:32.540+00:00Mind over matter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/12073266384/" target="_blank"><img alt="" class="alignnone" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2807/12073266384_2f7f1d5909.jpg" height="373" id="blogsy-1390332019056.6917" width="500" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I wonder what the Wellcome Institute does with all the postcards. One of the best things about the place is the way they encourage visitors to draw, and have a permanent postcard display wall with an ever-changing display of doodles, minor artworks and crude cartoons, mind maps and slogans, all executed in the rather useless but definitely non-toxic crayons they provide for the purpose. Perhaps they keep every single card no matter how badly drawn or offensive. That would be an appropriately scientific approach. On the other hand, they are arty too, so perhaps they choose the best and recycle the rest. In that case I hope they kept this one.</span><br />
DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-54248252944359285502013-11-16T18:04:00.001+00:002014-01-27T07:17:36.777+00:00A moment's reflection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">
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A rare burst of morning sunshine enlivens the bustle of Ridley Road market in Dalston, open every day except Sunday.<span style="line-height: 1.3em;"> Around nine on a weekday the place is a hive of activity with vans unloading and stalls being set out for the day. The sun is low in the sky with one side of the street in deep shadow, while on the sunny side the bright light intensifies the colours of fruit and veg, rolls of fabric and cheap tee shirts, and adds sparkle to pots and pans. The stallholder taking a break with his </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">iPod has evidently got his work done already, waiting perhaps for the first customer to show up.</span><br />
DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-9497510985654105292013-11-05T08:40:00.001+00:002013-11-06T13:29:32.626+00:00Carol Ann Duffy in Walthamstow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/10686568294/" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5497/10686568294_33c2c9794a.jpg" id="blogsy-1383744533067.4893" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="500"></a></div>
<p>If the Nazis had invaded Britain, they would have earmarked Walthamstow Assembly Hall as their kind of architecture: a severely plain neoclassical front with impossibly tall columns. Not the only use for that sort of building of course, but it was slightly strange to approach on a dark and windy evening, with light streaming out of those tall windows and crowds of people hurrying to get in, for the evening of poetry lined up. And not just any old poetry reading: the place holds 800 and it filled up.</p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The event was billed "an audience with Carol Ann Duffy with music by John Sampson". But first up was Warsan Shire, the new Young Poet Laureate for London, perhaps not announced beforehand because the appointment is so recent. She stood behind the lectern, striking in a simple black dress and giant frizzed-out hair, and read three poems with just a line or so of explanation. Strong stuff that deserves to be read in print too, to get a better understanding of those alarming images she deals with.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Carol Ann Duffy has a dry sense of humour and her poetry is of course a pleasure to read, as it was to hear her read it. Pieces from The World's Wife remain a strong part of her output. We got a little insight into the meaning behind some familiar pieces, the odd throwaway lines (Mrs Icarus) and even a couple of unpublished pieces. Although she is the Poet Laureate, the title carries no job description and she evidently feels under no obligation to write about the royal family. Making fun of Nick Clegg (like Faust, selling his soul to the devil) comes no closer to an official line, thank goodness.</span></p>
<p><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">This main part of the event was set up as a double act with the above mentioned John Samson. A big man in a three-piece suit, he does a sort of foolish musical comedy act, playing a variety of very small pipes mainly for comic effect. He can play very fast and typically throws in a few drawn-out bum notes for a laugh. "The Queen didn't want him so she gave him to me" quipped Duffy dismissively, but in fact she's been performing with him for a least ten years so the apparent indifference is just part of the act. There was little sign of rapport between the two, but she had him play along to a couple of the poems, so we have to assume her deadpan demeanour and his funny noises are an intentional combination. Perhaps he is there to illustrate her conviction that men are basically useless. </span><span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Actually, a fair part of the audience was amused - they clapped along and even sang to a rendition of the Isle of Skye (or perhaps it was Mull of Kintyre) - but not everyone was pleased with this diversion from the main attraction. I just wished she would stick to reading.</span></p>
<p><em>This is the 100th post on London Sidelines. A milestone, or time for something new? Click on the post title to go to the comments form.</em></p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-48043685925593637312013-10-28T12:58:00.001+00:002013-10-28T15:37:56.028+00:00After the storm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/10534994096" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3722/10534994096_6c5ca70d39.jpg" id="blogsy-1382974587187.7415" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="331"></a></div>
<p>A fallen tree blocking the towpath of the Lea Navigation canal in east London. One of many trees blown over by high winds on the night 27/28 October, euphemistically tagged Stormageddon on Twitter. The British Waterways man had come with a small crane but it was obviously hopelessly undersized for the job.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-38364106128003636302013-10-22T19:27:00.001+01:002013-11-02T16:55:18.401+00:00Street photography<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/10324047375" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5499/10324047375_3c79297076.jpg" id="blogsy-1382466485055.5767" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="253"></a></div><p>Sometimes it all comes together. The guy on his bike, not just any old bike but quite a nice singlespeed with leather saddle and matching leather handlebar tape. Plus a fashionable canvas bag with leather trimmings. But also in the background, that character outside the Japanese Canteen perfectly silhouetted against the rectangle of white, dressed with un-missable bravado and swigging from a can of Coke. You can't plan a shot like this, it's just there and either you get it or you don't. It could have been better focused but at least you can see what's going on. Usually it's gone before you can even think about pointing a camera. Having a camera in your hand helps but the odds are, if you're trying to take photos you walk for an hour and see nothing really worth photographing, take a few shots and delete them later. Other times you just have the camera in case, not really planning to take photos but just out of habit, and something makes you switch it on and point just at the right moment. You could drive yourself crazy always being on the lookout for an interesting shot, better just to carry a camera and see what turns up without looking for it. </p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-70385624786467479222013-10-20T17:09:00.001+01:002013-10-22T19:02:57.865+01:00Housing boom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/10324029416" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5543/10324029416_6fc088ef4b.jpg" id="blogsy-1382284372229.6414" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="331"></a></div><p>After a bit of a hiccup, otherwise known as the recent recession, the frenzy of housebuilding seems to be back in a big way. Along the Lea Valley in east London, the old factories are disappearing one by one, most of them simply bulldozed to clear the site for this kind of architecture-by-numbers apartment blocks. These are fairly typical, built on an industrial area in Walthamstow. There is the usual depressing split between the market apartments, which are quite nicely laid out, and the so-called affordable part which looks a bit like an open prison. Integrating the two is a common aspiration and if I've understood correctly the same developer has done that successfully elsewhere - but that doesn't necessarily happen. It's very much easier to resolve the differences by splitting the site.<br />
<br />
In the foreground, another factory bites the dust. There are two problems with all this - firstly, one of those old terraced houses that surround this site are almost certainly what people really want but are now becoming unaffordable, and secondly, those old factories provide affordable business premises which are not getting replaced. Things do have to change, but you can't help wondering how it will work out in the long term.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-76848521377735274592013-10-17T19:12:00.001+01:002013-11-27T03:52:19.487+00:00Win an iPad?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/10324029824" target="_blank"><img alt="" class="alignnone" height="320" id="blogsy-1382032901391.4124" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2840/10324029824_aa76d1b676.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
"By 'eck our Vera..."<br />
It could be a caption competition. Think up a catchy caption and the best submission wins an iPad. All entries must be in by 25 October. Answers on a postcard, a real postcard with a stamp on it, not a virtual one. However I'm not really offering a prize, just thought I would post this photo of a rather charming pair of visitors to London, trying to get across six lanes of traffic on the Euston Road.DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-34230687531725049282013-10-14T14:04:00.001+01:002013-11-16T18:08:49.282+00:00 Watch the birdie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londonsidelines/10889517503/" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7327/10889517503_47c10f3775.jpg" id="blogsy-1384625328933.0574" class="alignnone" width="500" height="373" alt=""></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Regent's Place is an island of high-rise development on the edge of Camden, now pushing its boundaries to squeeze in as many square metres as possible. The result is an uncomfortable jumble of very large buildings, all different and competing with each other for attention as well as plot space. Although there are four elements in the last part to be completed, they were designed by two architects, one doing the offices and the other the residential parts. The offices are glossy glass structures which might not be too bad if they had a bit of space around them.</span></div>
<p>The residential tower, though, is quite possibly the ugliest tower in London, a grim grey structure that looks puny situated as it is alongside the no-frills bulk of Euston Tower (once the home of Capital Radio). A relatively low-rise block of flats along Hampstead Road was designed by the same architect. Come rain or shine, that overall matt grey finish and the complicated balconies do nothing to make the building seem friendly. The final touch, perhaps, is this surprising but not entirely welcome image of a bird fixed high up on the facade. Maybe there will be more of the same, but for now there is just the one. The artwork is by Gary Hume, the YBA who does extremely simple paintings using domestic gloss paint, so simple there is little to appreciate except I suppose a certain degree of abstraction. Here we get a biggish bird, some leaves and a stick, or at least it looks like a stick, although one's first thought is that it's badly drawn leg. Perhaps there are art world characters who think this is an achievement, but it seems perfectly valid to call it an unfortunate bad decision. If not something ruder.</p>
<p>There used to be a giant mural by Michael Craig-Martin on the site, not in the same place but nearby - a pop-art image of an electric fan, several storeys high and lit up at night. It didn't appear to have any particular relevance but it was quite nice as a landmark. The bird doesn't come close to replacing it.</p>
<p> </p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-92030254656715128292013-08-19T21:18:00.001+01:002016-05-18T21:52:02.762+01:00No Justice, No Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/9545522280" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7460/9545522280_3dac1ec0ae.jpg" id="blogsy-1376897144683.5984" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="375"></a> </div><p>'No Justice, No Peace' read the placards at the spot where Mark Duggan was shot. For the first few weeks after the event there were masses of flowers and cards attached to the railings, and then that was all cleared away and nothing was left but bare railings. Recently, around the second anniversary, and with the subject still in the news, this little display sprang up. That phase comes from the LA riots in 1992, and it's found various uses since. Already, the flowers and placards are gone, leaving just the sticks sellotaped to the railings. Maybe it's best that the spot remains unmarked, although the shooting and subsequent riots will stick in the collective memory for a long time.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-16702282660354349442013-08-12T08:23:00.002+01:002014-03-24T20:44:51.181+00:00Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SwJqiZXt-N0/UgiMmNb7HNI/AAAAAAAAA4g/vTrItW20drY/s1200/Summer-891.JPG" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SwJqiZXt-N0/UgiMmNb7HNI/AAAAAAAAA4g/vTrItW20drY/s500/Summer-891.JPG" id="blogsy-1376814880713.8076" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="331"></a></div>
<p> Summer is for being out of doors, not sitting in front of a screen. Even if it looks like it might rain.</p>
<p> </p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-21486807926723292982013-06-11T14:18:00.001+01:002013-08-10T19:18:36.271+01:00Lost in the labyrinth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/8626186262" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8100/8626186262_9c57e3cb0f.jpg" id="blogsy-1370956149881.3608" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="331"></a></div><p>This is one of many vitreous enamel plaques that have recently appeared in tube stations, looking oddly official, perhaps because enamelled steel is used for most of the Tube maps and signs. They are in fact works of art, perhaps something to make up for the advertising excesses on the Underground. There will be 270 plaques when the project is completed, with a different design on each. They are all similar - a black labyrinth on a white background with a small red detail and a number - but each is unique. The designs, and presumably the original idea, are by artist Mark Wallinger, perhaps best known for his contribution to the Fourth Plinth, a naked figure with a crown of barbed wire (apparently - I completely missed it and just found that on Wikipedia). Nice to see cash-strapped London Underground can still spend money on art, and can still do it this well.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-26510181419733816312013-05-04T11:26:00.001+01:002013-05-22T07:24:28.252+01:00Through a glass darkly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: none;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/77756782@N03/8706023675" target="_blank" style=""><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8125/8706023675_1374a1dbb8.jpg" id="blogsy-1367660638921.5881" class="alignnone" alt="" width="500" height="331"></a></div><p>This strikingly striped taxi is a moving advert for budget fashion accessory chain Aldo, spotted from a bus going up Tottenham Court Road. The taxi overtook the bus, and then both obligingly slowed down just as I got my camera adjusted. The design is one of several by graphic designer Malika Favre, all featuring geometric backgrounds and a face with sunglasses. I dont think it depicts anything specific that Aldo actually sells. Coordinated cycle chic types might think, matching yellow sun specs to go with my yellow bike, but they don't really have them in bright colours.</p><p>Photo-based graphics on vehicles is a bit of a trend, printed on flexible plastic film that moulds to the contours of the bodywork. This one works because it's simple and emphasises the pleasing curves of the London taxi. Others are nastier: the Sky vans with lurid photos of TV shows are particularly ugly. There's a lorry I see regularly, printed to look like an oversized wooden crate of potatoes. Sometimes you might wish all vehicles were dignified dull colours with discreet lettering in a nice serif font, preferably gold, like the old Hovis ads. But of course in those days the streets were actually plastered with painted signs on house ends, shopfronts, billboards and sandwich-man boards, buses and commercial vehicles, you name it, huge lettering shouting out trade names and unproven claims. Even more visual clutter than we have today, apparently unregulated and completely lacking in wit or irony. Some of those old signs survive, washed out half-readable remnants left to fade away quietly. The Aldo shrink-wrap, on the other hand, may be here today but it will be gone forever tomorrow.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-993606815952431954.post-35263115734755297292013-04-21T21:43:00.001+01:002013-04-22T21:22:09.981+01:00Another Thursday, another lunchtime recital<p><em>18th April: Zoe Lethbridge - flute and Julian Collings - organ, perform a programme of original works for flute and organ including works by Frank Ferko and JS Bach.</em></p><p>Looking at the options as one o'clock approaches, there's a choice between a single concerto by Brahms at Munster Square, or a selection of pieces for organ and flute at St Pancras Parish Church. The organ is obviously a more enticing prospect. St Pancras recitals start when the church clock strikes a quarter past one, so there's time to get there without bunking off work early, and collect the handout with a couple of minutes to spare. It's up there, the white-haired gent on duty tells everyone as they come in, pointing at an apparently empty corner of the balcony. You'll have to twist round in your seat to see.</p><p>That makes for a very odd concert and might explain why people are walking out as well as in. Usually the place is reasonably full, not full as in every seat taken, but maybe fifty people or so. Today the number stabilises at just nineteen people, including me and the man in charge, scattered around the place. Some of them actually are twisted round to see something, but mainly they are just sitting and listening. That's one approach to music: sit well back, maybe close your eyes, and absorb the music. The architecture of the church is interesting, so at least there is something to look at. What I like though, is to watch the performers and get a visual sense that the music doesn't just exist in a vacuum: to actually see the concentration and skill that go into making it happen. The way things are set up this time, that experience is tantalisingly close but never quite realised.</p><p>Up in the gallery, where the public isn't allowed to sit, is the organ and the keyboard console, which is a big wooden box set away from the organ pipes, with the organist completely hidden behind it. Our flute player is almost visible, a willowy figure with crazy long hair, but she's hiding behind the music stand and most of the time all you can see is knees and the end of the flute. After a while I get up and walk along the side aisle to see if there is a better viewpoint. There isn't. Once the organ gets going, though, the music makes up for all that.</p>DHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11024181247532156790noreply@blogger.com