Paris, Je T'Aime | The Street Artist of Marais

Others from Paris, here

When you look at this...

A version of this famous painting - Rembrandt's "Titus, le fils de l'artiste"

...would you believe, it's being drawn live by this guy?

Yes, as I was as astonished and impressed.

 

The India Chronicles | Bangalore - a quirky slice of home

When an American, a Canadian and a South African unanimously recommend Sethji's for a good home-cooked North Indian meal in Bangalore - a city you are more of a newcomer to, than them - you listen. And then you try to locate the very popular place (the recommendation is backed up by your brother in law and a few friends) - but ideally not when there's a power cut in the area and it's 8PM and dark. Because if you do, you will go around in a few circles in Indira Nagar before you're pointed towards it by a shopkeeper with an air of incredulity that you walked down that street twice and did not see Sethji's. Everyone knows Sethji's!

Then you finally notice it - the faint flickering neon sign on what looks like someone's house, opposite a temple, that announces this modest but famous mecca for home-cooked food and ...er...what's that - art gallery?!

It's your turn to be incredulous now, especially because this is the first view of the er - gallery ...and restaurant that greets you.

But you have no idea, do you? The place looks like a house from the outside, because it is a house. The living room and courtyards double up as the restaurant - a modest affair with plastic tables and chairs and plastic water jugs and a stack of steel tumblers. And the owner of Sethji's clearly has things beyond food on his mind - the walls of the courtyard are the owner's personal 'gallery' - I suspect the 'art work' is done by someone in the family (or the owner himself) but I couldn't find out on this trip.

The moment you sit down on one of the tables outside, a waiter appears with a laminated piece of paper - the menu. You ask for a bottle of mineral water and he almost laughs and then shakes his head - no mineral water here, please help yourself to the filtered water in the plastic jug. The menu is simple - a choice of several stuffed paranthas (Indian pancake-style bread) with a modest choice of accompaniments. If you have a larger appetite, you could order a full thali (platter). You recall that the salted lassi (buttermilk) was a big part of the recommendations but your tummy is yet to settle down to Bangalore, so you desist. You order a couple of paranthas and wait.

You look around a bit more and notice the psychedelic ceiling. You're beginning to get used to this.

Or so you think. Because then you notice the shai'ri (urdu poetry) in English script on the walls, making your amazement peak!

The cursive inscription on the left reads:

"Mein beqraar dil ka fasaana likhun to kya
Dil ka naheen hai koye thikaana likhun to kya"

loosely transliterated:

How do I write the story of my restless heart/
This heart is a wanderer with no destination, what do I write of it?

Ahem.. Profound. Clearly the owner is an indulgent soul - there is also a corner of the courtyard dedicated to 'mehfils' (gatherings around music or poetry performances).

Before it can all sink in, your food arrives - an affair as simple as it gets. An unassuming parantha in a steel plate with an accompaniment of curd in a small steel bowl. You dig in - the parantha is not the best you've had but it satiates your craving for that homemade taste - something you'd be hard-pressed to find in most eateries in India. There are no napkins or paper towels to wipe your slightly greasy fingers on - and after the mineral water, you're hesitant to ask. You look around and figure out why.

When there's a psychedelic blue washbasin right next to the 'mehfil' area, why would you need a napkin? Really, now.

As we polish off our simple yet delicious meal, we realise just how popular this quirky little place is - customers stream in - young couples, lone guys clearly arriving straight from work, foreign expats, even families. And as randomly thown together as this place seems at first glance, it seems to grow on you - all strange art, mushy poetry, plastic furniture, psychedelic ceiling and washbasin of it. The meal barely makes a scratch on your pocket, and very strangely, you find yourself wanting to come back even before you've left.

Somehow it is only in India that you'll find such an incredibly quirky place that is so popular yet so bordering on the bizarre. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why we call it Incredible India. Ah, India. It's good to be back.

Postcards from Spain | The Street Artists and Buskers of Granada

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you'd know that I have a particular affinity for informal forms and purveyors of art, or in other words street art and artists - be it visual of performance based. I therefore had to document the street artists and performers of Granada for you, and today's set of postcards does just that.

In particular, I was struck by the number of musicians performing in Granada's streets and plazas, which, on second thought is no surprise given Spain's long and rich musical tradition. It shows... and buzzes and mesmerises you as you walk around town - and how!

This gentleman is usually found around the Plaza de la Romilla of Granada, busking his music to people sitting along the promenade with cafes on one side and the spactacular Alhambra on top of the hill on the other. He entertained us for two breakfasts and one glass of evening wine.










I have never heard or seen someone playing the didgeridoo before this (at least that is what I think that is) and this gentleman was doing an absolutely fantastic job of it! He was keeping rhythm with those two wooden pellets in his right hand and the combined effect made you want to tap your feet and sway your hips! He was busking his unique music outside the main Cathedral in Granada.
It was around the Cathedral area that most other buskers and artists would tend to ply their art as well.

















This gentleman is painting scrolls of Arabic poetry - something that the walls of the Alhambra are covered in. A common art in these parts, it seems, but incredibly beautiful. I only wish I knew how to read Arabic so that I could make an informed comment on what I was looking at!

I hope you liked this set of postcards as much I personally like it! This series of postcards is about to draw to a close soon, but beyond that I have some street photography related writing, and some London-based stories coming up... and also an important, very important announcement! Keep watching, and I hope you will not be disappointed with what comes up. :)

Another London: Brick Lane Moments 2

continued from here.

But hey! This is the East End! How could you possibly escape the graffiti and the street art? As much as Brick Lane is a visual, ethnic and cultural entity in its own right, the thread of street art that runs through it ties it with the rest of the East End. Here's what I spotted:

Jeff Soto









Nathan Bowen















An evil Ronald McDonald

And other unidentified ones. (Help appreciated)













Someone does not like New Media:

Brick Lane gives stiff competition to Rivington Street in the graffiti department! If you can identify these works, please do let me know!

...to be continued

Build me a houseboat in heaven

Pardon the imminent cliche, but Spring has officially sprung and there's no better way to celebrate the sprung spring in London than to go on a series of spring walks around town.

This week, I headed off to see how my beloved Regents Canal (the stretch from Wenlock Basin to Islington via the City Road Lock) was doing - and although I was a bit disappointed, it was worth sharing the experience anyway.

[click on pictures to enlarge]

As usual, you can't escape a tiny smattering of history on this blog. But the history of the canal has got so many interesting bits, I couldn't possibly do justice to it in one blog post. So, will suffice to inform those who do not know - the canal stretches from the Paddington arm of the Grand Union Canal in the north-west to the Limehouse basin and the Thames in the east. It was built in the early 1900's and was used primarily for the transport of goods. The City Road basin later became the most popular channel for goods transportation. And here's a small bit of history in a picture:

End of history lesson.

My own first encounter with Regents Canal was in 2006, when as a postgraduate student of city design, I was led to it after a shin-mutilating walk around London by my guide. Hidden behind the concrete monstrosities of the City and terraced housing for the most part, the sight of the canal that was almost straight out of the Enid Blytons I grew up reading, pleasantly surprised my aches away. This week, visiting the same spot after ages, I was shocked to see the spurt in construction activity around the Wenlock Basin. They've very nearly managed to kill the charm of the place. But that's not what this post is about. This is about the charm that still remains - the tunnels, for example.

The City Road Lock

Starting from Wenlock Basin, I was pleased to see that my old friend, the man under the bridge, was still around. I have been scared for him since I heard about the Towpath Tidy. They'll hit this patch on Saturday and I hope he stays. Though I did notice that he's now been joined by two friends on the new support column on the left:

Familiar? You might have seen him here earlier.

The towpaths are very popular for walkers, runners and cyclists. So popular, that there is actually a code of conduct for walkers and cyclists - the best one being the 'two ring' rule. Cyclists are supposed to ring their bell twice as they approach a pedestrian and pedestrians, in turn are expected to be listening for the two-rings. Cute!

Moving on towards City Road basin, I was saddened by the loss of towpath width as they build some new luxury flats (seriously, who's buying them anymore?) overlooking the canal. Gone are the benches and the trees facing the Royle Building - in their place stands ugly scaffolding. Pah! But I was determined to focus on the good bits - the (understandably annoyed) ducks and most of all, the quirky houseboats that are moored along the way.

I find houseboats immensely fascinating - a psychological leftover from my Enid Blytons, I guess. Her pre-teen characters were always having scones and marmalade in the middle of exciting pre-teen adventures sitting in houseboats (or getting kidnapped by the baddies and held in them). Although my own pre-teen self had never seen a houseboat, I had vividly imagined them and was delighted to be finally acquainted with my childhood fantasy in London. I still haven't been inside one (hint hint - for anyone reading this who happens to live in one) but I delight in studying them - some are pretty, almost dainty, very house-proud; some rough and reckless; others staid, simple and practical. The outside of a houseboat, I think, can be very telling of its inhabitants, much like gardens or backyards.

The houseboat study and the spring sun did much to lift my mood. It reminds me of a song by Townes Van Zandt called "Heavenly Houseboat Blues". The perfect accompaniment to this walk. I couldn't find the original, but here's a quirky cover by Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell for you to listen to, while going through the houseboat pictures again (try it!). Someone build me a houseboat!


UPDATE: If you find London's canals an inspiration for tapping your creativity (like I do), you might want to join the Slowdown London Festival's Canal Write program on the 2nd of May. Check it out!