How marvellous to live at a time and place where people make art and invite people into their home or studio to see it… a chance to visit friends and strangers and be assured of a welcome. I’m showing work with three other artists; my effort is a collection of photos of mannequins for which I have an uncanny fascination. Each to his own.
As I photographed these ‘heads’ a lady selling stuff in an arcade in Peckham shouted, ‘You should ask first!’ ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘is it okay if I photograph them?’ Luckily she hadn’t spotted me adjusting the red wig. It entirely covered the model’s face which has been ‘scarred’ by some kind of an accident. Nothing to do but take it on the chin.
I confess to a fascination for mannequins. Peckham often satisfies this particular interest, but with an added twist of zaniness. The model may have one leg, no legs or no torso. It may have a head but no hair. A mannequin might be perfect, except he has no arms. Still, he stands doing his job. Yesterday I spotted one of a child (headless) that I’d seen in an arcade months ago. She now stands in a different arcade, but wears the same polka dot dress. It was like seeing an old friend who had not changed with the passage of time.