This work of art on an area of corrugated iron in the back streets of Peckham looks remarkably like Amy Winehouse in a snarling but beautiful pose. Strikes me as a fitting response to the madness and marvel of Christmas, a time to renew light, life, the laughable. and alliteration. However snarling only looks good on a young face. Season’s greetings!
This headline seems mad but I guess the number of barbers tending beards and cheeky moustaches bears it out. All that grooming, it doesn’t come cheap.
I have curated (fancy word for organized) an exhibition entitled Mum Before Me where 12 artists have described aspects of their mother’s life before motherhood. The results are as varied as the artists. Since becoming involved in this project I have had many, often touching, conversations about the women who became our doting or otherwise mothers. Exhibition 24/25 September 2016 www.nunheadarttrail.co.uk
It’s kicking off at the end of the week –Peckham Festival, a celebration of Peckham in its many guises and wealth of talents. My photos of Peckham will grace the walls of the Copeland Gallery. Some, though, will hang at K&K Butchers, a Rye Lane business on the
corner of Choumert Road. These images are titled: Take a Butchers. We have a lot of butcher businesses on Rye Lane and they are distinctive, to say the least. Check out the event at: http://www.peckhamfestival.org/event/reflecting-peckham-take-a-butchers
I went to see William Eggleston’s photos at the National Portrait Gallery. What a treat… many of the images are of the extraordinary in the ordinary. Just my kind of photograph. And with the passage of time how vibrant his photos have become. On my way home, waiting for the bus I took this photo. In the future this will say something of the past.
I have had a poetic weekend. I was a poet at the Poetry Café’s Fourth Friday in Covent Garden. That was great fun. Poets gave us love, rye humour, politics and a nice tale of a gasman. There was music, too, provided by Rattle on the Stovepipe –foot-tappingly good. My poems were about people: some famous, others not and a sprinkling of fictional ones.
One of the poems I read at the Café is published today by www.inksweatandtears.co.uk It is about the time I danced with Viv Stanshall of the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. Only afterwards did I realise that the man, eccentrically attired in a dressing gown, was the Original Urban Spaceman. What an honour to have danced with him.
I mean why would you live anywhere but Peckham? Yes, I know there are reasons, very good ones, for living elsewhere. But does your street cleaner – I bet they have fancy titles like hygiene directors or refuse managers – look as good as this guy in his pair of comic-book glasses, which he swears he can see out of? I thought not.