Hackney Happenings

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.

Canonbury - Illuminations of the apparent rationality of sanity and the truth in distance

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.

A Canonbury Lamppost.

Was this Canonbury Tower?

Lamppost revealing itself to me.

Lampposts as sentinels of a quiet environment.

I believe this is a combination of a variety of buildings including a church.

Canonbury Square.

Pigeons in Canonbury Square.  Which one do you find most attractive?

A litter bin that knows where it belongs.  It belongs to Canonbury Square.

A Solitary Sojourn down Shoreditch Way

Last night marked the second stage of my little journey.  Yes, it was the turn of Shoreditch High Street and Shoreditch in general.  I was actually heading to Old Street to the Shoreditch Town Hall to see 'The New World Order', a truly immersive production based on a selection of Harold Pinter's shorter plays; those plays with a distinctly political theme.  As such, the play 'One For The Road' played a prominent role in structuring the evening.  This was going to be a Citysocialising event, but as the tickets sold out, it was simply another night out for me in a strange environment.

Anyhow, from the moment of arrival at the Shoreditch Town Hall, the audience was engaged.  We were scanned by Security and forced to wear clearance passes.  Then we were led from room to room experiencing different plays portrayed as really happening.  As such, we became complicit in acts of torture and interrogation.  The latter stage in the evening where we were moved around basement rooms and corridors was quite frankly, one of the scariest experiences of my life.  At one point, we became the subjects of a play, 'Mountain Language'.  Prisoners of a strange military regime whose representives shouted at us and generally behaved in a manner that somewhat violated the Geneva Convention.

The production ended with us being escorted out of one of the back doors of the Shoreditch Town Hall.  No applause for the actors, just a renewed appreciation for the work of Amnesty etc who force the apathetic public to acknowledge the atrocities perpetrated around the world towards prisoners of even so-called 'progressive' nations.

I didn't know where I was and I was amazed how my reaction at this point at 9.30 pm matched my response upon arriving in Shoreditch (I have been there twice before in the past but only in the last couple of months) and it's still new to me.

Shoreditch is peculiar.  If Dalston can be said to have a multicultural community feel about it, Shoreditch is London's arterial flow.  It's a seemingly endless assortment of nightclubs and bars.  Surly security festoon the entrances to cubbyholes, secret caves of moral expenditure.  The young and ageless cascade down the streets in groups.  The age of the couple relegated to an older generation at home with 'X-Factor' and 'The Killing'.  I wasn't sure whether this area made me feel at home or just slightly out there.  There was a typically strange moment when some kind of people carrier passed me with a group of ten people standing vertically on it.  I sadly didn't photograph it, but it represented something about the area.  Also when I was standing outside the Shoreditch Town Hall, a car drove past in which someone was shouting out inarticulate expressions of supposed joy.  Everything about the area amazed me.  I wrote a couple of lines of poetry, which I will share here because I rarely do that online and it sums up my thoughts on Shoreditch:

Who shouts the loudest,
who whispers at
The staggered entrance
to the Palatial ruins.

Something, archaic about Shoreditch, it looks rundown yet that is its charm.  That's what makes it fascinating.  I want to explore it properly with other people.  I want more feedback.  I want to know what it means to the people who play there.  

Shoreditch High Street entrance.  Something about the orange lettering inspires me.  It's like an aesthetic call to arms.

Shoreditch High Street London Overground Sign

Outside the Shoreditch Town Hall.  Once shown out the venue, this was the first thing I saw.  The windows captured me.

Shoreditch Town Hall - A Detail.  What is it about stairs that mean so much to me these days?

Interesting looking building and a Tea Shop called Time For Tea.  I liked the clock without a hand.  It should be a symbol for Shoreditch.

Shoreditch - A never ending work in progress.  A project outside the London Overground Station.

Dalston Junction Blues

Well, Saturday was good fun.  Dalston Junction and the area around it is full of the usual mix of weird take aways selling some meat type that might be chicken or then again, who wants to take that risk?  There are also a number of Turkish restaurants.  Dalston has a market.  I took a photo of the debris that remained after the market and as soon as I can work oout how to do it, I shall upload it.

The play at the Arcola Theatre was an adaptation of the Pushkin play, 'The Queen of Spades'.  The play was performed in the smaller of the two studios in the theatre.  The cast were very close to the audience and I was tempted to wink on numerous occasions at them as they performed, as a means of expressing some kind of solidarity with them.  The set consisted of a huge dustsheet or blankets covering what appeared to be stage blocks or some kind of wooden structure that the actors could perform on and under.  It was great to enjoy the action with Rachel and Caroline.

Rachel had observed earlier how there seemed to be more beggars around than usual in Dalston and as we walked to the Turkish restaurant we eventually ate in, sure enough, there was a one legged beggar.  The Turkish restaurant was nice then back to Dalston Junction Overground station, which has one of the most austere and elaborate signs I have seen for some time.  It's like entering into a posh hotel like the Savoy.  It's interesting how the London Overground stations are all pretty distinct, depending upon how new they are and whether the line has simply been channeled through an existing station.

Dalston Junction was an interesting first choice and I look forward to the next and hopefully, Razorlight won't have written a song about that area!

An Opening

Finally, I begin the L.O.P. today.  I still have no ideas of the logistics of the exercise and I have no fixed time scale attached to it.  Also the London Overground is a work in progress, which is fascinating.  Will it ever be finished or will it simply become a circulatory system that links the sprawling metropolis with other cities around the U.K.?  I hope that this does not empower London at the expense of other cities and towns.  This exercise is about learning more about the city.  The beauty and its horror.  Both fascinate me.  The reactions of others are also of interest.

Anyhow, today I start in Dalston Junction.  It's a lovely station from the outside.  I am going to the Arcola Theatre, which is very near to Dalston Junction to see an adaptation of a Pushkin play called 'Queen Of Spades'.  The Arcola Theatre is a curious venue.  It currently resides in an old paint factory and consists of two studio theatres.  It has a small bar and as a venue, it feels unfinished but its very embryonic nature is its appeal.  It has a sense of character.  It is not trying to be as clinical as the National Theatre on the South Bank.  Austerity is not the name of the game for the Arcola Theatre.  The productions it puts on tend to be more eclectic than the fare served up by the more commercial theatres.  It's a theatre for people who want to be inspired as opposed to being fed the same plays over and over again.  Anyhow, after the play the Citysocialising group and I are off for a meal in a Turkish restaurant with any luck.  I will try to keep my heart open today to detect the nuances of Dalston.  It's often more astute than my brain.

My Dream Station...

I had a dream the other night.  I guess the sheer magnitude of my undertaking is hitting home, but it was surprisingly positive, so I share it as an aside and to ensure that I continue the act of writing this blog.

I dreamt of a London Overground Station called Duckland.  Basically, you come out of the station and are faced with a vast green expanse.  It’s a little hilly but that doesn’t prevent it from being one of the most beautiful and simple landscapes I could possibly have imagined.  It is surrounded by trees and just by the station is a bar but not a bar concealed by a building.  It is open to nature and probably every drink you could possibly require is there.  Oddly enough though, there was nowhere around to get food.  At the bottom of the hill through the trees is a door marked exit.

I think I left through the exit and it lead to a cityscape with the usual assortment of rundown fast food joints and struggling clothes shops, offering nothing for something and everything for the cost of a plastic card.

Duckland may have also had a Duck, but I didn’t see her/him.  My Ducks would probably be more insular anyway.  A little more pensive and lacking the exhibitionist quack of the more frequently seen Mallards!  Duckland needs to be shared, if only to prove to people that my sanity is questionable.

It begins here...

Every so often, I come up with an idea that just seems right.  Sometimes, it's too ambitious and has no hope of working.  On other occasions, I just have an instinct that even if it doesn't work, it could prove fun.  For the last year or so, I have been a member of a social networking website called Citysocialising (it's a subscription based website).  On the website, you can host events and anyway to cut a long story short, my experiences as a host and attending other people's events as a guest have helped to develop an idea, which could very well change things for me.

My friend, Mandy first helped to germinate the idea when she suggested that the London Overground could be used to visit new and exciting places every weekend.  I have decided to take this idea and run with it.  What if I could use the London Overground as a means for discovering and rediscovering areas of London and its provinces that are either so familiar that I have ceased to view them properly or that I have not visited?

My plan is simple, I want to visit every London Overground station and experience some aspect of the area around the station.  Believe me when I say that this is not the fixation of a train spotter.  I am interested in seeing how London and its provinces function plus the things we take for granted.  Also I want to see if I can use the Citysocialising website to entice other people on what I hope will be a long and varied journey.

As I pursue this crazy journey on a train network which is seemingly never-ending, I will try to document my feelings and thoughts.  If friends and people join me, I will not use their full names in this blog.  I anticipate that the first few posts I write will be dry and tedious to read.  But as the journey begins then it may become more rewarding.  I will refer to the project as the London Overground Project for now.  Now where to start?