My
London, 1990
I was studying art in London, in 1990,
but feeling a little disappointed with my life. I happened to see a
picture in the newspaper, of a man, banging a bodhrain;, a hand held
ancient Irish drum !
It had an old Celtic symbol on it and
I knew right then, that was what I was looking for. I made a
subconscious note to find out more about it.
The art and inspiration, in London ,
for me at this point had dried up. Hip Hop and rap dominated popular
culture. I felt as if there was nothing but an empty box of packaging
and crassness, to being 'Down with my homies !'
But living in London, had taught me to
stand on my own two feet ! To live and cook healthy meals and to keep
fit. African or Afro-American culture was very prevalent. The band
'Soul II Soul', could be found at the nightclub 'The Fridge' in
Brixton most weekends. White trainers out placed the black Dr Martin
shoes.
It was very trendy, to be fit in the
capital, and so I attended a lot of dance classes; contemporary,
modern, jazz, Latin, in community centres. Installation art was seen
as the pinnacle of art expression.
I read the writer 'Alice Walker'
voraciously. 'The Colour Purple' and 'Living by the Word'.
I once queued up outside 'The Africa
Centre' to see her in person, but there were too many people out
there, in the crowd to wait.
To keep trim, I used to buy oyster
mushrooms and lychees, from Croydon street market. I'd cook them at
home, with garlic, soy sauce and rice. I lived in South London, in
Norwood, close to Gypsy Hill and Crystal Palace. I also lived in
North London, in Muswell Hill. Here I once found an original
publication of Jim Morrison ( The Doors) poetry books.
I read Oscar Wilde’s 'Dorien Grey' I
worked in 'The Young Unknowns' art gallery in Waterloo. I saw Ella
Fitzgerald, live at The Royal Albert Hall, shortly before she died.
I'd often visit 'The Victoria and Albert Museum' on the south
Kensington tube stop.
I also read Victoria Woolf and Sylvia
Plaths 'The Bell jar'. I met Paula Rego, the very popular Portuguese
artist. I had a good friend called Jill Salmon.
She would wear men's suits and drink
out of a bottle of wine, quite occasionally !
She had a big heart, an infectious
laugh and great sense of fun ! She also used to live in squats. She
squatted many empty buildings, from rough tenement houses in the
Elephant and Castle, to empty playboy mansions in Hampstead Heath.
When she squatted a council flat, in
Peckham, I would travel all the way down, from North London
on a Saturday afternoon, to see her. We
would go for a meal of pork belly, mash, cabbage and gravy in a n
indoor cafe at Peckham's market.
I never got to try, jellied eels, in
the pie and mash shops on the Old Kent Road though I think I had a
pie, which they said 'wasn't horse meat !' I'd often go out all day
and sit in various cafes, you could smoke in them then. So I'd sit
all day long , with a fag and a cup of tea, writing poems in my
notebook.
Art College, in London, attracted
people from all over the UK and abroad. It was a great mixing ground
for so many ideas and melting pot of cultures and backgrounds. In
fact it was difficult to find genuine Londoners, as they seemed to
blend into the background, instead of wanting to stand out. The
Londoners I did meet, were black or half Asian, and because the music
so heavily influenced my thinking, I was drawn to them. But I fell
flat trying to express myself through it,
because it wasn't really my culture, I
just sympathised with it.
And I soon felt hallow, as if I'd burnt
myself out. I couldn't keep up with the pace and needed rest.
Although I didn’t realise the
importance of rest at this time. I'd work like crazy until it made me
ill. Then I'd wonder why I was feeling ill.
I didn't realise that I needed a rest
and a life outside of the whirly burly of fashionable art college. I
needed a home, security, routine, peace of mind. I wasn't getting
this, just through myself into art exhibition after art exhibition,
while trying to support myself, going to job interview after job
interview.
I hated work outside of art college. I
had no means of supporting myself, and so I had to work to pay, rent,
bills, food, travel costs, art equipment. I didn't lead an
extravagant life of wine bars and going out. The pinnacle or jewel in
the crown of my existence, was making art.
It was all Work! Work! Work! And of
course this led to breakdowns, numerous ones – in public, in
private, on buses, in strange places. And all due to an excess of
work.
No holiday, no break, no rest. I didn't
think it through. I didn't have a strategy or game plan, just through
myself at it, time after time. And still do to this day.
Though now I realise, the importance of
relaxation and rest. Probably because my body and mind tell me of it.
Demand it ! When I am tired or stressed out, I lock myself away,
cocoon myself for a while until I am better.
Though I'm sure my vocation is to be an
artist, I still wonder what it would be like in other walks of life.
But rest, sleep, downtime are important to everyone.
So don't knock it when someone tells
you they want to get away. They are only doing, what their bodies
tell them.
