Part of me learning to slow down and see the world in a different way is learning to document what I see without creating my own narrative around it. Sometimes that looks like deep and painful human impact pieces and sometimes it falls a lot lighter. It’s not my place to decide on or tell the reader what to think. To me, this blog is here to tell you what I saw and what it felt like to be there.
I wrote the other day about a trip I took into London. The almost seamless transition from seeing bags of waste into finding empty sleeping bags and rough sleepers wasn’t what I was expecting to find but that’s what I saw. That weekend though, it wasn’t only the discarded rubbish and struggling people that came into view.
As I wandered around the streets of Soho & Chinatown, I let my focus drift from the street floor and towards the lighter and playfully decorative shop fronts and signs that seemed to say ‘it’s not all doom and gloom.’
The great high strings of floating red paper lanterns, gently swaying above Chinatown in the winter breeze. The proudly hoisted rainbow flags, adorning the sex shops and queer-owned bars of Old Compton Street, fluttered majestically as if to welcome all.
There was colour, richly accenting the otherwise drab grey and red bricks of late 1800s London, now grabbing my attention in place of the grime and hardship I had seen earlier in the day.
Slowing myself down and taking time to see what’s around me opened up moments and frames I might have otherwise missed. In the jigsaw-like and scattered reflections of this window, you can see people passing by without a glance. Never mind stopping to admire the ornate craftsmanship that lets the light almost dance along the curves of the glass. Behind the reflections, their shapes broken up by the intricate patterns of the Art Deco shaped panes, people were inside enjoying a drink and a chat. Just one window, but it held so many little moments of interplay even when captured in monochrome at 400 ISO.
As I carried on walking around the city I remembered to look up from time to time. Through the 35mm lens of my camera, there is a satisfaction in the contrast you see when an interestingly obscure object breaks out against a clear and bright sky. London is certainly not short of things worth looking up for. Megalithic broad-fronted buildings. Curious shaped silhouettes. Cast by everything from horse-mounted statues surrounded by glistening fountains, to Victorian era lamp posts which look like they still need to be lit by hand each night.
Not quite the clearest sky I had seen that day gave a very London-esque backdrop to the rather unusual Swiss Carillon ‘glockenspiel clock’ on the fringes of Leicester Square. The hand-carved and painted wooden figurines circle around its tree of bells, part clock, part musical instrument. I can’t place why but for something which looked oddly out of place, more suited to the square in Lucerne than its current home just off Wardour Street, it couldn’t possibly fit more perfectly into the mixed and matched style of the centre of London. Delightfully out of place but perfectly at home.
As clocks have a tendency to do, I was reminded of the time. My pace may have relaxed but the day wasn’t waiting for me to stop and marvel at any more musical time pieces. I hopped back onto the Northern Line and headed for my next stop. Camden Town has always been a place of curious market stalls, street food and a vibrant music scene. So where better to take my new-found approach to observation than somewhere that is a real feast for the senses.
At first look on a busy weekend, Camden can seem like a chaotic and packed out tourist trap. There is almost always a crowd to push through and today was no exception. It wasn’t the same as vying for position at the ticket gates of the tube station though, it’s a crowd of people each taking in their own version of this richly diverse hub in the city.
Sifting my way through the crowd, the rabble of voices punctuated by the sizzle and flashes of flames from the Thai Food grill and the calls of the Polish Sausage seller, the scrum opened up into the famous Stables Market. The wooden floored market halls, tucked into every nook of the mid-19th century brick built horse stables, have a unique feel under my feet. Not quite solid but, sturdy enough to tread as I peer into stalls selling… well… everything. One particular display caught my eye. A collection of old radios, fancy teapots, rotary telephones and yes, more clocks, was perfectly shelved and outlined by the white melamine boxes stacked against the historic brickwork. A time capsule within a time capsule.
Outside the market, cartons upon cartons of halved and freshly squeezed oranges filled the air with their clean citrus scent as they were juiced straight into the glass. It was long a tradition in early theatre that oranges would be the fruit of choice for those in the stalls, mostly to cover the rather bad breath of so many people in such close quarters.
I did think for a moment that they were doing a similar job in the dense crowds of Camden market. As I left the busiest place in Camden, I recognised another very distinct smell. One that can’t be mistaken for anything else in an urban space. Then like music to my ears, the tinny rattle of a paint can being shaken, confirmed what my nose had already picked up on. I have always been a fan of well placed and well executed street art and graffiti.
You can’t talk about graffiti in London without mentioning Leake Street Arches. Since I was heading back towards Waterloo and the end of my day, I had time for one last visual treat. So once again it was back on the Northern Line and headed south to Embankment. I’ve always preferred to get off there rather than straight from the tube into Waterloo station. I never turn down a chance to walk across the Thames and London has some stunning views from its bridges. I wasn’t expecting to see one of my most reassuring sites of the day however.
I may well have been on my way to London’s most renowned graffiti spot but to say this caught my eye would be the biggest understatement. Not only is the bold white message ‘Its Shroom Season!!!’ classic rebellion language, it was painted on a bridge that was doing everything in its power to stop it from happening.
Not only were there railings and signs declaring the bridge had been treated with ‘anti graffiti paint’ but even the cold industrial ironwork seems to be forming giant crosses, as if to say No No No as loudly as it possibly could. This moment which could be seen as little more than an act of vandalism somehow had a playful and rebellious energy about it. It wasn’t some two-bit taggers name scrawled carelessly, it was a message that yelled anti establishment whilst staying perfectly silent and innocuous to the masses.
No, it wasn’t the precise and technically stunning artwork of Graffiti Tunnel fame but it felt to me like London was still alive and ready to play. The last leg of my little trip cemented that feeling as I walked along the south bank of the river then ducking off towards the station for one last treat.
Street Art and graffiti have always been the voice of the otherwise unheard. I’m not talking about the little scribbles on the doors of a bathroom stall but pieces and murals that spread the work of some incredible artists in what is a frowned-upon medium.
Leake Street never disappoints either. The muffled music from the small Bluetooth speakers is given percussion by the syncopated rattles of paint cans and the hissing of spray-paint meeting wall. The colours are almost as loud as the messages which seem to support the arch above your head.
This is not a travel blog by any stretch of the imagination but it really is a site to see. After taking my time over the weekend I had seen so many different sides to London. The grimy trash bags from the city’s struggles to cope with the impact of its own nightlife. The cold and harsh reality of the homeless people, seeking shelter in the cracks between the stores and theatres of the West End. The delicately placed but poignant flags and lanterns, celebrating the diversity of culture in a city of many colours. The bustling and frantic marketplace, bringing people together for food and oddities. Then closing it off with the reminder that art in London isn’t just reserved for the galleries and museums. On which note I leave you with my favourite photo of the day…
The message they were writing simply read ‘Keep Going’
What I See 
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