London - putting my legs down

28/12/09
Location: De Beauvoir Town, London, UK
Topic: London

*note* : I’ve combined two posts into one, since they’re mainly just me rambling in a disjointed fashion of all the bits ‘n pieces I was doing amongst searching for both work, and a place to live. It was a bit of a crazy time, as when you don’t have solid things planned, there’s so many things going on, it’s hard to gauge what’s important and what’s not. Inadvertently, i’ve said a lot about a few things, and left many others out. It’s all been tremendous fun, but writing retrospectively, weeks later, means a lot of the little gems are left out. Sorry for that!… now, with enough of a sidetrack - onto the good stuff!

Well didn’t that make all the difference? The weeks in Prague were a godsend - and I could feel it as soon as I landed at Luton airport on a predictably bumpy Wizz Air flight. London seems real. It seems possible. It’s an opportunity to be grabbed, squeezed and taken advantage of. I’m excited as I head on a bus to Hyde Park Corner. I pass Wimbeldon and Baker St and I recognise shops and feel the surge of the city running through me. An elaborately decorated shop passes by - And So To Bed - and i’m reminded of the way creativity is celebrated here. I’m Big Kev. I’m excited.

I head to Holloway rd and meet Christin for lunch and manoeuvre my suitcase around tiny cafes. I end up staying only the one night - and relocate for the next weeks to Nikola’s place in Shoreditch. It seems the right thing to do - get into the swing of looking for work, being located closer to many agencies and studios, and also meeting new people - Nikola’s two Kiwi housemates, Yona and Nick are as relaxed, accommodating and full of beans as could be expected. The treat is their building though - a modern, eco-friendly apartment block which won a few design awards, situated right on the Regents Canal, a beautiful waterway which passes straight through London. I spend a day wandering down, and am amazed at the bars, houseboats, residences and public usage of the canal. And it has white swans. Awesome! Christin later suggests we go to a theatre-puppet show at one of the bars. The more I see London, the more I see it as a treasure trove - a coastline of rocks waiting to be turned over to see what hides underneath.

Routine soon takes over though. I’m eager to get back into work-mode, to use my brain, and find my own space. So the mornings are spent emailing, researching and chasing up work contacts. This leads to a few interviews in various parts of the city, and much to my surprise, London very quickly becomes a small place. It doesn’t take long to figure out how areas connect - the sprawling chaos becomes manageable, and i realise how amazing the public transport system is for a city of this size. Even with no idea where I am, it’s quite easy to jump on a bus to get toward an area where you know your way from.

My afternoons are mostly my own, so I explore without aiming to see anything specific - out of all the sights to see in London, i’ve avoided going to them directly and paid to see none. Instead I decide on a more interesting way to discover the city. I head to The Espresso Room one morning, in Bloomsbury, and end up chatting to the owner for a few hours, sitting in the sun and flicking through the latest issue of Monocle. He’s a colourful chap who spent a few years in Melbourne, and gives me a list of fantastic coffee places around town. And so my quest begins - i have a coffee at each of these places over the coming weeks and decide to set up my own blog, londoncoffeereview.blogspot.com, and keep a few basic notes and suggestions for people of a similar mindset to my own. I discover there’s a coffee revolution sweeping the city. There’s more and more places opening, many of them by Australians & Kiwi’s, and it feels great to explore the city in a non-traditional way.

Evenings are often spent chilling out with Nikola, Yona and Nick, who are passionate about their television series, and as Call of Duty, Modern Warfare 2 entered the Playstation, you can imagine how the evenings were spent…

More often than not though, i’m out with Christin. We wander around Kentish Town and visit a gallery to see the amazing work of Alex Box - a makeup artist who blurs the line with art - amazing photos where the human face is just another canvas… we visit the Proud bar, part of Camden’s obsession with converting horse stables into anything and everything social… but the first week is all really about one event.

Halloween.

Or, the Hendrick’s Halloween Ball, to be more specific.

Held at the Troxy, a ye olde theatre, I won’t be able to rave enough about how much effort the organisers went to, to create an atmosphere. Imagine red velvet curtains, with dead pheasants, prosthetic limbs, dismembered bodies and all manner of gore dangling on ropes around the venue. Imagine a long black-velvet table of indulgence - naked, gold spray-painted people posing and playing it up for the cameras, surrounded by peacock feathers, exquisite cheeses, pineapples & grapes. Imagine each table in the venue covered in decorations, party poppers, animal bones and toys - i somehow got home with a squeaky toy seal, covered in fake blood. It was the kind of venue where you don’t just ‘dress up’ - you go the whole hog. Our group looked fantastic - Chich dressed as a blood-splattered mummy with a dental problem, Yona as a dead waitress, complete with serving tray of bloodied cups and eyeballs. Nick was a fallen soldier, bullet holes tearing holes in his shirt, and there were zombies and dead angels with us too. I was almost unrecognisable wearing Christin’s dirndl from work, complete with long black and silver hair and black and white facepaint and an extra eyeball on my chest. The real catch was walking in heels - my feet were destroyed by the end of the night and i wonder how women survive the experiences on a weekly - or daily basis! Christin was the only one of our group who didn’t go for a bloodied gore theme - a cute butterfly, complete with large purple wings.

Christin and I got into character before catching the bus to Chich’s. The trip was amusing to say the least - everyone looked at me with the biggest grins on their faces. Despite many people saying that Londoners don’t bat an eye to odd people on transport, i found quite the opposite to be true - everyone stared at me, laughing, pointing and getting into the spirit - Halloween isn’t a big event in Australia… whereas in London, it’s one huge party. It took a while for me to learn the ways of ladyhood though - keeping your legs together is harder to remember than you’d think.

We drank excessively, and the night soon became a blur. The sheer effort people to to get in theme was mind boggling - this was no “pop down to the arts and crafts shop” costume ball. One person was dressed with huge skulls surrounding him, there were naked people, and more zombies and stabbing victims than you could poke a stick at. Some girls went elegant - with delicate feathered masks and corsets, while others went all out pirate themed. An incredible night to remember. Christin and I even braved a mini-cab home, although the disgruntled driver was none too happy when he realised how far up Holloway Rd we really had to go. And perhaps it was his driving speed that lead to the staggering hangover that wiped out my Saturday and left me in a daze watching Dragon’s Den episodes. But boy was it worth it.

It’s late Autumn, and it doesn’t take long to fall in love with London’s city streets. Particularly the Russell Square area, huge trees with massive leaves fill the streets. There’s less people walking around, and looking around at the decidedly British architecture, contrasted by the brown leaves covering the ground, and the swirly, crunchy sound of walking amongst them all, it’s staggeringly atmospheric. I’m near the university in the area, and end up following a professor for a few blocks, trying to get a decent candid photo. He looks like he’s out of the 1800’s, super long black coat, hands held around his back, clutching an ancient key. He spins around, wrinkles and white hair revealing kind, intelligent eyes.

It’s an odd balance - looking for work and accommodation and only weeks later do I realise how much it unsettled me - it’s the shortened and irregular sleeping patterns, inability to just relax in your own space, and slowly gnaws away at me and i even begin to question why i’m here. But i hear time and time again from everyone around me, that this is London - these things are notoriously difficult, and in fact, i’ve been extremely lucky and fortunate with how things have turned out so far. Perhaps i’m too used to having my cake and eating it too.

Despite this, my time is still filled. As Christin keeps saying - you have to take advantage of everything London throws at you, so we see Up, in 3D - a masterpiece which keeps reminding me of Ed’s (CD @ SputnikAgency) animated description of how awesome it was. We go to a short movie screening at the venerable Cafe 1001 which finishes in a spectacular - and hugely sensored - animation which is essentially a huge mashup of brand marques. Controversial to say the least, but there’s always a voice for something in London - and an even bigger audience to lap it up.

We visit the Saatchi & Saatchi gallery, with its creepy display of world leaders as old dead men in wheelchairs, silently and mindlessly tapping into each other in a whitewashed basement. Art indeed. We also make it to the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Natural History Museum - a beautiful building in its own right. The exhibition is inspiring and visually amazing, and end up talking to Nikola a few days later about all the geeky technicalities of it all. And i’m left with a strong desire to spend time in northern Finland.

If the first week back in London was all about Halloween, the second is all about Guy Fawkes Night. Hardly registering on the Australian radar, Bonfire night in London is genuine cause for alarm. Days beforehand, fireworks are launched at random through the city streets at all hours of the day. Nikola’s gives me a mission - to buy fireworks, and this leads me into the belly of Seven Sisters Rd, a page out of another book entirely. London never ceases to amaze - turning one corner can lead to another world, and it’s not hard to see where Neil Gaiman gets his ideas from in Neverwhere (which, as a side note, makes spectacular reading on london transport). But back to Seven Sisters rd - i ask in dodgier and dodgier shops for fireworks until it occurs to me i’d probably have more luck getting heroin over the counter here instead. Finally, under a sparkly banner harking “FIREWORKS!!!” do i finally get lucky. Although i’ve no idea what i’ve just bought - are these the bees knees of fireworks, or mere fisher-price playthings?

London has over 20 “official” firework displays over the next few days - and weekends - so Christin, Frauke, Jamie and I head to where i think is Southwark - near the Canada Waters tube station, to see lots of pretty lights, colours and loud bangs. With my own backpack full of fireworks, we decide not to brave security and instead stash everything in the front garden of a Norwegian church - as you do. Luckily it’s still there an hour later, and we head to the Big Chill bar for Nick’s birthday. After a good amount of cider, salted beef beigels and fresh air, we end up on Arnold Circus, in the backstreets of Brick Lane, setting off fireworks, firing roman candles at each other, and watching as the pyromaniac in Ryan comes out - he rides around on his bike with fireworks spraying everywhere. Although we were loud, drunken idiots, playing with fireworks, it all turned out well in the end. We all got home at least

(*note* : the next bit i wrote weeks later - watch how I can hardly even string together consistent grammar, let alone relating thoughts!)

The next few weeks see me tick off a list of things i’ve heard about and wanted to do for a long time…. and it’s a good thing, cause as soon as I begin working, my time went to zero. Between stocking the house, visiting Argos every night to carry home a new item of bedding and sorting out my work permits and insurance numbers… i’m glad the weeks leading up to here were used to soak up London in daylight …

I visit the Monocle shop - which was more in line with popping in for a cup of tea in someones personal lounge room, than a shop. It’s a tiny affair, and remarkably well branded & presented - as to be expected. Christin & I also head to one of London’s swankiest venues, the venerable Gilgamesh. Not only that, but her friend has booked a VIP room up the back, and with stunning canapes & cocktails, the environment is lush with an attention to detail that falls somewhere between Aztec & the Amazon - huge brass embossings fill the walls. It’s the kind of place where the furniture is heavy, and if I could have identified a celebrity other than Brad Pitt, it probably would have been a field day of star spotting.

Market-mania fills the weekends - the Notting Hill market on Portobello road is a full day’s entertainment - from antiques to foods to general knick-knacks, it stretches for kilometres and is an institution to West-London living. However we end up somewhere more curious - the Brand Museum, quietly tucked in the backstreets nearby. Housing a history of brands both English and world-wide, it’s interesting to see how events shaped brands, and more noticeably - the packaging the items were usually presented in. During times of paper shortage, can’s would feature only a small ring of paper around them, so the design had to accommodate this. Most amusing though, were some of the blatant slogans which would never get cleared in today’s world…

We visit the Colombia Road Flower Market too - an institution for East-London living, and the Hackney City Farm - it never ceases to amaze me how in a city as dense as London, the sheer variety of what’s on offer. So we watch fat piggies rolling around in the mud for a while - and that was before even making it to the farm. Ha ha… seriously though, the Colombia Road Market was amazing - so many of the things i’ve loved about little dainty shops in Berlin selling all manner of independently designed goods, little knick-knacks and items of interest which you can’t really look for anywhere else, are all beautifully on display in shop after shop of inspiration. There’s even a shop which specialises in huge vinyl stickers of Threadless images - so you can stick them on your wall…. awesome.

I also spend more time by the river - most recruiters are located pretty centrally, so I spend the time afterwards wandering along the river, taking advantage of the low sun to get interesting shadows and reflections - it seems to become a theme for London shooting - water reflections.

So i vow to set some projects and themes in the coming weeks - something for me to focus on and coherently shoot in some kind of structure, to help make sense of the chaos. Guess i’ve never been much of a street photographer, anyway. I head around Brick Lane for a few candid shots - it’s such a colourful area, and it isn’t long before i end up being invited to a talk on the rights of photographers by a random person on the street. In fact, i visit Brick Lane a few times over the coming weeks, and each time I head there for one purpose - or none, and end up sidetracked completely. I chat to a street artist who’s been commissioned to do some work, adding yet another layer to the colours of Brick Lane - he’s humble and soothing, and I admire the way he can do his craft away from the office.

I figure it’s time to get some culture into me though, so I head to both the National Gallery and the Tate Modern, the former at Trafalgar Square, and the latter in the famous old powerstation along the thames. It’s amazing to think this is all free - works by Vemeer, Titain, Cezanne, Monet … however a lot of it is mixed in with lesser known art which is a little less pleasing to the eye, so much of it is a quick breeze-through affair. The Tate Modern particularly is a mixed bag - it’s almost dizzying how much variety there is, and it’s hard to swallow. The highlight though is the oversized work which appears in the gigantic expanse known as the Turbine Hall. Miroslaw Balka features a gigantic steel structure lined with black velvet. The concept revolves around recent Polish history - think Auschwitz. The chamber is massive - 13 metres high and over 30 metres long, and when entering, you see nothing, not even the hand in front of your face. It plays on your fears as you walk forward, trying hard to avoid bumping into people, using hearing and smell to guide you, and help summon the courage to move forward. And yet, when you bump into the far wall and turn around, it’s somewhat amusing to watch the silhouettes of people grappling forward you. It’s tremendous, and testament to how experiential art can be.

The London Museum is next on the list for a slice of history. It’s one of those things you often overlook when spending a longer period of time somewhere, but it brings a whole new light to a city when you know a bit of context of events which shaped it. It’s a shame that on the ground, this feeling is often lost. History hits me though in an unexpected way - with Nicola, Yona & Nick, we all head down to the Broadway Market, cameras in hand, snapping away. After a while, Nicola and I end up in a strange little restaurant, and i use the word liberally.. it’s more like a bar, with tiles on the inside, and benches straight out of an 1800’s school-room - with decor to match. It’s the famous eel & pie place - and a slice of “real Eastender” history hits us - the man is a true character, and as we tuck into the watery slosh that is pie, mash and parsley sauce, I look around in sadness, thinking that places like this - his grandfather owned it before him, will eventually be moved over for cafe’s, kebab shops and fashion boutiques. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos from here, as they were all taken on film…. stay tuned.]

Back in the real world though, I see the insides of more and more recruitment agencies and get more and more promising words - i’ve been hearing it for weeks, but things finally come together as i’m placed at a small agency based right next to the Tower of London. Any specifics on my work i’ll leave off this blog, but it was definitely interesting to see how different the workplace was. It had an air of the area it was situated in - royalty - where my lax Australian accent felt strangely out of place.

The fun and games of sleeping in and job & house hunting soon comes to a close though - the next few weeks see me not only working, but living in an interesting area of town.

Stay tuned for London when i’m finally earning the pound!