Doing the L.O.P.: 2012

Hackney Happenings

I apologise for being so tardy with the L.O.P. The world of existential aestheticism or athleticism has over come my commitment to the Project, but nonetheless, it has not been forgotten.

On Sunday 21st October 2012, I left my more usual section of the London Overground and veered towards Hackney to see the film 'Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?' As ever, I did it as a Citysocialising event and only one person came to see it with me. But anyhow, I arrived in Hackney and it was raining. It's amazing how our sense of place is often determined by the weather and/or mood we are experiencing when we arrive there. For example, a theme park in the rain is about as appealing as Marmite eaten with peanut butter.

Hackney Central was similar to most of the Overground stations. Slightly modern or converted stations with quite charming signage. Sometimes, really pretentious and Grecian in their aspirations but this one was more subtle.

Main Hackney was wet and wild. A slightly unusual blend of architectural styles. The walk up to the Hackney Picturehouse involved walking past the Hackney Empire, which I have unusually never frequented and past the usual mixture of shops that you expect to see on most high streets and I don't mean Argos etc. I mean quirky little places that offer to unlock phones and whilst selling you cheap plastic protection for your phones.

The Hackney Town Hall also stood out as a memorable landmark in an environment that seemed in some respects quite spartan, but this was as much to do with the weather as anything else. I was amazed to see the curious exotic trees outside the Town Hall like a nod to South Africa and Graham Greene novels.

The Hackney Picturehouse was wonderful. Distinctively modern. Impressive bar area. Old projector on display downstairs and odd light display upstairs. The seats were also comfortable. Whilst waiting outside the venue, I think I saw Slavoj Zizek, philosopher and cultural critic disappearing out of the venue following his talk. Behind him, an assorted collection of backpacked students and bearded activists left. Are beards an essential feature of political activism?

In passing, 'Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?' was screened on the final day of the 'London Film Festival' and for once, I saw four films. It was still vibrant and an insightful exploration of sibling rivalry within the film and theatre industry. As ever, when I left the film, I listened to the random conversations of the audience. A couple of the audience felt that it had aged quite badly but the majority seemed to enjoy it. It's a film that needs to be seen in the cinema.

As you will see from the photos I took, Hackney is as much about the dumped rubbish, fungal growth on the side of monuments and the polite ostentation of in your face signage to denote modernity. It is changing. It will continue to grow.

A tree of some importance outside the Hackney Town Hall.

Hackney Town Hall with tree oddly out of place and time.

Ornament and clock faces appeal to me.

Fungal growth on monument.

Hackney Town Hall with stairs.

Pineapple tree as I will colloquially call it.

Understated signage for the Hackney Empire.

A wet Hackney Street and the Hackney Empire on the left.

Rubbish. A metaphor for the hierarchical nature of our lives.

Of lines and light, our journeys are shown.

A church in an age of disputed faith.

Hackney Central sign and arched windows boarded up.

Today, I continued the L.O.P. in Canonbury. Canonbury for the uninitiated and geographically challenged (yes, that includes me) is in North London and surprised me. Really surprised me. Anyhow, the plan of campaign today was to speak like a military strategist and to meet a small Citysocialising group outside the Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art at 12pm. I arrived at Canonbury Overground Station, which by Overground standards has a really tiny entrance. The ticket counter is just inside the entrance and lucky travellers offer trinkets of value to the staff in exchange for travel on the metal chariot.

I walked out the station the wrong way. In my world, the wrong way is often the right way but on this occasion, it wasn't. So I redirected my body where it should be going. My first observation about Canonbury was how affluent an area it seemed. Lots of plush residences with pretty families, performing their Sunday dances with prams and other weapons of torture. I also observed the lampposts. Now, I am increasingly fascinated by the variety of lampposts that appear in different regions. What informs their design? Is it determined by the environment they are erected in or by other considerations?

I walked the streets of Canonbury and found Canonbury Square, I initally walked past the Gallery but enjoyed the Square with its trees and fountains. The Pigeons also held a certain appeal for me. Something about the comfort of strangers; living beings to replace the solitude of procrastination. I returned to the Gallery and waited. Whilst, I waited the true horror of non-functioning traffic lights manifested itself to me in the form of a car crash. A four by four vehicle (they should not be allowed in London. Do you see a hill or mountain with rough terrain?) and a car impacted with each other. Fortunately, no injury but it was surreal to hear the sound of crunching metal and then to see the side of a car imploding. My life has become a J.G. Ballard novel and I am not sure how I feel about that yet.

My group, friends and people I met for the first time today arrived and the majority of us went into the Gallery. The minutiae of arrivals is of no interest to you and merely detracts from the Gallery which is really rather wonderful. The exhibitions are housed in a converted Georgian house. It appears that the temporary exhibitions are downstairs and the permanent exhibition is stored on the remaining two floors. The focus is on an eclectic range of Italian modern artists. As such, Futurism peeks out at the viewer and some Cubism etc. The space itself contains benches, which are almost an art form on their own. My abiding memory is of an exchange between a girl and her dad, in which he encourages her to name all of the colours the bench is painted in. I keep hearing 'Green' and also the girls odd way of saying 'brown', which sounded like a combination of brown and black, a sort of 'brack'.

After the Gallery, we went to a pub called The Snooty Fox, which is opposite Canonbury Overground Station. The pub is full of cultural artefacts from the 60s and 70s. Old album covers merge with iconic figures such as the Krays, Christine Keeler and every possible rock star you can think of. The pub has a jukebox that actually plays vinyls from the 60s, but sadly that was out of order. The music playing indistinguishable from the conversation around the pub. The roast dinners were expensive but not bad.

Once the meal was over, we all went our separate ways. Walking with a friend down to Dalston, I remembered a random comment I made in the Gallery expressing how certain paintings and works of art look better, more defined from a distance. In connection with a conversation, we were having about relationships. I wonder sometimes whether some relationships would be better at ten paces. Can intimacy ruin integrity? Fortunately, I strictly deal with friendships at the moment so it's not a concern.