Natural vs Man-made: A winter diversion

Although, snow is pretty and lots of fun, the extreme cold that usually accompanies it can be a problem for wandering/clicking-machines like me. I mean, try clicking in -7 degrees without gloves on and it's almost certain death (or at least, frostbite) for your fingers. So I set the camera aside and patiently started waiting for the weather to clear. And I waited. And waited. And waited, growing extremely impatient. Hmm, this didn't seem to be working.

So what do you do when you're snowed in?

In my Book of Profound Answers, there is only one answer to such a question:

"Make the most of it, dammit!"
So that's what I set out to do.

By heading to the Natural History Museum in South Kensington in London.

The Natural History Museum houses some of the world's best collections of - well, natural history. Now here's the thing. Although I studied Science at high school level, I did it only because it was the path that would lead me to my chosen obsession (and profession) - Cities. Yes, that's the way it used to work when I was in school in India. So, although parts of the exhibit were really interesting, that's not what this post is going to be about. Because I'm no museum chronicler. I'm the flâneuse, soaking in the the city around me, and I'm the cities professional, who, when confronted with such a fascinating piece of architecture, can scarcely look beyond it.

The museum was built by the architect Alfred Waterhouse in the German Romanesque style, in the latter half of the 1800s. The time I chose to visit was a snowy but thankfully not too cold morning and I was struck by the way the statuesque building stood out amidst all the foggy whiteness around it.

But what enthralled me even more was the spectacular detailing inside the massive building. Every little detail in this building seems to have been lovingly created by an artist - and at least to my eyes it gave stiff competition to the actual exhibits it houses.

The building is, in more ways than one, a tribute to its contents and its purpose. Yet, this structure manages to stand out on its own. It simultaneously manages to have a grandeur of scale and an intimacy with the user - the facade, the huge central hall and the grand staircase communing with the intricacy of the decoration, rather than overpowering it.

You only just need to look closely at the ceiling panels which are beautifully painted with hundreds of plant specimens from all over the world, in colours that reflect the dappled light that comes in through the exquisite stained glass windows, to understand what I'm saying. Or, pay attention to the cornices and to the relief carvings of animals and plants literally 'climbing' and 'crawling' all over the terracota tiling.

I could stand in here for hours just admiring this building. Of course, if you're so inclined, there's a really massive collection of dinosaurs and fossils and animals and plants and rocks and precious stones to gape at, as well. Either way, it doesn't fail to serve as an excellent winter diversion. Just what the soul needed.

The India Chronicles | The Hues of Dastkar

It is no secret that India is a treasure trove of indigenous art and craft. Every state, region, sometimes even every second town or village has its own form of language, art, craft and resulting influences on design and living. Some of these art forms and practices date back decades, even centuries. One would assume that such a precious heritage would be fiercely protected in a country as huge as India. However, the sad fact is that until a few years back, most of these crafts and the artisans who make them were languishing in obscurity and resulting poverty. Lack of awareness of these crafts in urban areas meant a lack of market - the artists had no means of promoting or marketing their talents and younger generations subsequently moved away to more lucrative forms of livelihood. As a result, several of these craft-forms either perished or have been on the brink of being lost forever, sustained only by a small minority of passionate but perishing artists.

The Dastkar movement changed this to a large extent. "Dastkar"is a Hindi word, literally meaning "crafterperson" and true to its name, it is a society of and for craftspersons. Founded in 1981, the organisation has slowly managed to put these crafts back into not just the living rooms of Indians but onto a global map. The society aims to make these craftspersons self-reliant, accountable for their own production, accounting and marketing, and in doing so, eliminates the 'middle-man' between the artist and the consumer, ensuring that all profits go directly to the artisan. One of the ways in which Dastkar promotes these arts is by organising Dastkar Melas or fairs in cities across India. I've been a regular visitor to the one in Delhi over the years, but a couple of weekends back I accidentally walked into the Dastkar Fair in Bangalore, much to my delight.

Could the Flaneuse waste this opportunity? No chance! I present to you some of the hues of Dastkar.

I urge you to discover the rest for yourself the next time Dastkar is in your city. These artists deserve it.

Pancake Day at Saatchi - or not.

It's Pancake Day today. At first, I wanted to catch at least one of the several pancake races happening around town today, but even the prospect of pancakes did not motivate me enough to step out into the gray mistiness of today. So I had a pancake lunch indoors (once the thought of pancakes strikes, I generally do not stop until I have ingested some), and decided to go to the posh and pretty Duke of York Square in Chelsea instead, where I have spent many a fine weekend lately. Prettiness generally doesn't fail to banish gray misty blues for me.

Barely had I begun to click, that a nattily dressed security guard complete with a tiny wireless earphone and a finger stuck to it came running up to me and (suprisingly) politely requested me to refrain. Asked why, he said it's a privately owned estate. Which it is, indeed, except it's a shopping estate open to all. Whether or not that meant I could not click, the grayness had permeated my being, and I did not feel like arguing. I did manage a shot of relatively posh litter, though! Hah.

click on pictures to enlarge

NOT a dirty beer can.

Then I turned my attention towards the Saatchi Gallery, which was anyway part of the original plan. Unluckily for the natty guard, the Saatchi Gallery sits in the Duke of York Headquarters, which although a part of the Square, is a separate institution. The grounds of the HQ outside the gallery generally have a life of their own, and my camera was amply rewarded with at least two groups of art students visiting the gallery today with their instructors, (which also meant too many teenagers inside the gallery, but oh, well...) the usual book readers and time-passers, the genuine art lovers, the clueless strollers, schoolchildren from a neighbouring school at football practice and the odd passer-by.

The gallery itself has a new exhibition on. Called Unveiled: New Art from the Middle East, the title is pretty much self-explanatory. I found it an eclectic mix of different genres and different media - some impressive, some that did not quite appeal to me. I especially loved the work of Wafa Hourani and Laleh Khorammian, both, for their intricate attention to detail. I did not click pictures because a) I didn't think the pictures would do justice, especially to Laleh Khorammian's "Eden - 1st Generation", which had me riveted for at least ten minutes; and b) because I was too engrossed to remember to click!

Some other impressive works and general scenes around the gallery though, were clickable. Some of the common apparent themes that I could read through the works were war and destruction and the status or rather the lack thereof of Muslim women in Middle Eastern society.

Kader Attia's 'Ghost' - an aluminium foil installation of Muslim women in prayer - certainly the most popular exhibit




Diana Al-HAdid's'All The Stops' - 'impossible architecture' made of cardboard, wood, metal, plastic and paint










Halim Al-Karim's ghostly triptychs - Lambda prints covered with silks - very powerful and very disturbing depictions of his personal experiences in the Gulf War and his observations of the horrors of Middle Eastern conflicts today. I clicked the last picture with a person in it to bring out the ghostly apparitions of his prints.


And a couple of gallery scenes

An evening well-spent (and better spent indoors when the outdoors are so dreary.) Though if this dull gray weather continues, I think I'll be forced to abandon this blog and go into hibernation. Wake me up when the sun is out.

One Month

I only just realised that this blog is one month old today. Wow. Seems more like three to me, somehow. That's 30 days, 13 posts, 126 photos (yes, I counted), close to a 1,000 visitors and a very valuable stash of feedback and discussion. I've been having a really good time doing this, even though when I started, I wasn't sure if anyone would be interested in my pictures and stories at all.

Thank you!

While I indulge in more visual flânerie, I'll leave you with a... ahem... funny set of pictures from Valentine's Day that I clicked at South Bank. Someone took advantage of the low tide on the Thames and cashed in!

click photos to enlarge

And these were the chaps responsible for it. They attracted quite a crowd!

Back soon with more.

Art: the Formal versus the Informal at Rivington Street

The last time I went to Shoreditch, I only peeped into Rivington Street. I caught sight of works by two of the greatest street artists Britain has produced, got excited, started clicking... and ran out of batteries. Plus, it was biting cold and it was a day when I'd been foolishly optimistic about the weather while dressing up. I had to beat a sorry retreat, albeit with a strong resolve to go back as soon as possible - with an extra set of batteries.

I was rewarded with that opportunity yesterday.

Do correct me if I'm wrong, but Rivington Street seems to me to be the mecca of street art in London. The first thing you notice when you enter the street from the Shoreditch side is Eine's famous (or infamous, depending upon how you're inclined to view street art) typography. It transforms the underside of this bridge from a dingy stinky passageway into an art gallery in its own right.

click on pictures to enlarge

On the opposite wall sits one of the entrances to Cargo, the live music bar, flanked on either side by graffiti - by someone whose name I haven't been able to trace yet. (Leads appreciated).

If this looks familiar, you probably saw it here

*Update: The two silhouette pieces above are by an artist called Sam3. Hat tip: Xylo

Cargo's courtyard/garden on the other side of this bridge is a haven for street art - it houses two famous Banksy works on each end, with multiple Shepard Faireys, an Ego Leonard and other street art in between:

Banksy's 'Designated Graffiti Area' - this one is so precious, it is covered with a pyrex sheet.






Shepard Fairey's 'Obey' posters



Unidentified - help appreciated



Ego Leonard's Lego



Banksy's HMV

I moved out of the rear exit of Cargo and into the courtyard (narrow alleyway) of the Black Rat Press and come across more street art - outside the gallery. And here comes the interesting part, if you haven't figured out from the name already, the Black Rat Press is dedicated to showcasing the best of street art and artists from around the world. It houses works by D'Face, Swoon, Brian Adam Douglas, Slinkachu and Nick Georgiou among others. The name of the gallery is of course taken from Banksy's signature black rat that has made appearances in several cities of the world.

Unidentified, outside Black Rat Press. Any help?



Someone left their paints behind



Love the typography

Like Shoreditch, but less so, Rivington Street is a study in contrast - or perhaps it is a study in tolerance of extremes. The street is littered with art galleries showcasing formal, recognised forms of art, while the walls outside these galleries host works by some of the most well-known street artists. The David Adjaye designed Rivington Place, for example, has an exhibition on by well known South African photographer Santu Mofokeng. Right behind the gallery, enclosed in its own parking space, is a famous Stylo and Mear piece from 2001.

Rivington Street is obviously a place for artists, photographers and designers. Old world sentimentalities about art and design perhaps do not fit in here. Every establishment on this street - cafe, gallery, bar, shop - pays homage to eclecticism and acceptance, an almost-rebellious response to the old school. The contemporary parallels of slick stylishness and alternative movements coexist on the same street, a kilometre long stretch of bohemian utopia.

The Bedroom Bar



The Comedy Cafe



The absolutely lovely ArtWords Book Shop - a tiny treasure trove for resources on contemporary visual arts

I don't care what the puritans say about street art. I believe that as much as it can destroy the fabric of a place, not all street art is subversive. Some brings it back from disuse, back into acceptance and back into character from decay and Rivington Street is an excellent example of this. There is a fine line between mindless graffiti and street art, between wasteful self-indulgence and creativity - and instead of trashing all street art as vandalism, I think that line needs to be recognised and that distinction made.

So far this has been one street where I've felt completely at ease wielding my camera around. No one gave me a suspicious look, no curious glances were thrown my way. Instead, passers-by smiled at me, nodded in understanding, invited me into their galleries. I was running out of time so didn't step into many, but I'm so going back yet again. I had a fantastic time clicking this street despite the cold drizzle on my head, my struggle to keep my lens dry, and the failing light.

Oh, and the extra set of batteries helped - I ran out midway.

PS: If you have an opinion on this, I'd love to hear what you think about street art as a legitimate art form in the comments or on email.