Sunday 17 February 2019
Picture: Priap
Saturday 16 February 2019
Picture: A Sharing Universe
I just got a message from Facebook telling me I posted this illustration three years ago. I remember its origin. I’d read an inspiring article that claimed that the 21st Century would become the Century of Sharing. I liked the sound of those words. They had a ring, so I started to think how I might illustrate them.
I also liked the sentiment, the idea that a more caring, sharing society might become a model for future generations to aspire to, blah, blah. I’m writing this diary entry because yesterday thousands of schoolchildren in Britain went on strike to protest our government’s failure to tackle climate change.
The sharing symbol/pictogram from internet browsers I ended up using was a shameless act of theft. I do like it, though. It looks like a molecular model for water, H2O, which gives the concept a natural, elemental flavour.
In the studio, I later created a sculpture of this idea with three plastic footballs from Poundland, two cardboard tubes, some scrunched-up newspaper and a lot of Modrock. I painted each of the balls red, green and blue (RGB).
In the sculpture, the concept shifted to a more political one. The two satellite balls were each marked MARKET and STATE. The central core ball was marked SOCIETY; the idea being that Market and State can only communicate with one another by journeying the length of the ‘bond’ to and from Society. Society is thus the key to a better world. Everything must pass through Society, so build a good one that can handle the different types of traffic. Stupid, eh?
Wednesday 6 February 2019
Column: February 2019
The search for good news this month has been tough. There was a fantastic performance by Whitecross Street comedy duo Rachael Spence and Lisa Hammond (aka, Bunny) at the Globe's Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, in which they tackled the Faustian question “What price your soul?” with the answer: “We’re not sure we've actually got any souls to sell” and went on to make fast and loose with the words “our souls”. It was hilarious.
I got a tip-off on the whereabouts of the estate's missing-presumed-stolen plastic heron, but my lips (beak?) are sealed ... for the time being.
There was a fascinating revelation at the community centre’s weekly techno clinic (Wednesday, 2-4pm) on how to fix a busted TV remote (not working, even with new batteries). The solution, apparently, is to remove the batteries, press and hold every single button for three seconds, replace batteries, and hey presto!
But behind all of these gentle stories was the heavy hand of discontent. It was even a struggle to find the right description: is it a Catalogue of Complaints or a Richter Scale of Rage?
First up are reports from Hatfield and Basterfield House residents of scary vibrations from the nearby building development of the former Richard Cloudesley site. Shattered ornaments and spidery cracks in the plaster top the list of woe. The City Corporation's attempts at colour matching paintwork after their recent concrete repairs have not gone down well, either.
A group of Bowater House residents are hacked off that the area around the fishpond they overlook is being used by non-residents to eat their packed lunches, smoke cigarettes and fill the bins. On the face of it this sounds like a petty whinge, but who’s footing the bill, residents ask, and where do the boundaries between public and private lie? Technically, the whole estate is private. Residents pay for its upkeep through their rents and service charges, yet the City Corporation treats it as a public space. That’s understandable. The estate is open, welcoming and attractive. But, residents argue, public use should be paid for from public funds.
Another Bowater House issue is the proposed installation of a cluster of mobile phone masts on its flat roof. In their objection, residents have been joined by an unlikely ally, Taylor Wimpey, the construction firm building the controversial Denizen block of luxury apartments across Fann Street on the site of the former Bernard Morgan House. They are livid that an eyesore and potential health hazard so close to their prized asset might deter would-be buyers from paying top whack for their shiny new City dwellings.
Residents in Stanley Cohen and Crescent House woke up recently to find zero-tolerance notices attached to the plants they keep in the large open communal areas around staircases. This issue has been a running sore since the Grenfell Tower fire, and few would argue that safe evacuation in the event of an emergency is paramount. But some residents feel bullied because the strict “no-plants” policy seems both out of proportion and inconsistent in its policing, plus it is issued as an order to desist, with the words “or else” attached in a threatening manner.
The final entry in the Catalogue of Complaints (this month) comes from young parents who discovered towards the end of last year that City Corporation funding towards nursery places for Golden Lane families at Prior Weston School's Golden Lane Campus has been cut. This was a deal with Prior Weston’s owners, Islington Council, which I’m told was terminated without notice. The Corporation now advises Golden Lane families to use the facilities at John Cass Children’s Centre instead, a full mile across the City through some of London's worst air-quality blackspots.
This not only has all the hallmarks of thoughtless penny-pinching, it appears to contradict the City Corporation's own stated wellbeing policy of supporting young parents. A report 12 months ago identified young parents as a group vulnerable to loneliness. Until recently Golden Lane parents could meet at Prior Weston, swap stories, support each other and oversee quality pre-school development for their toddlers. Now they are forced to abandon talking to each other face to face and to use WhatsApp instead to keep in touch.
In a last-ditch attempt to find something joyful to report, I crossed my fingers as the City Corporation planning committee met to decide the fate of the four healthy trees that sit on the border of the Golden Baggers allotment and the building site that is causing mini-earthquakes inside our flats. I hoped our council might actually stick to its previous pledge to save the trees, but no, a hooded axeman was spotted surveying the Richard Cloudesley site before the meeting had even finished.
Billy Mann lives in Basterfield House on the Golden Lane Estate. He is a teaching assistant, a City of London Community Builder and blogs at scrapbookbilly.blogspot.com. Write to him at goldenlanegazette@gmail.com.
An edited version of this column appeared in the City Matters newspaper, issue 091
I got a tip-off on the whereabouts of the estate's missing-presumed-stolen plastic heron, but my lips (beak?) are sealed ... for the time being.
There was a fascinating revelation at the community centre’s weekly techno clinic (Wednesday, 2-4pm) on how to fix a busted TV remote (not working, even with new batteries). The solution, apparently, is to remove the batteries, press and hold every single button for three seconds, replace batteries, and hey presto!
But behind all of these gentle stories was the heavy hand of discontent. It was even a struggle to find the right description: is it a Catalogue of Complaints or a Richter Scale of Rage?
First up are reports from Hatfield and Basterfield House residents of scary vibrations from the nearby building development of the former Richard Cloudesley site. Shattered ornaments and spidery cracks in the plaster top the list of woe. The City Corporation's attempts at colour matching paintwork after their recent concrete repairs have not gone down well, either.
A group of Bowater House residents are hacked off that the area around the fishpond they overlook is being used by non-residents to eat their packed lunches, smoke cigarettes and fill the bins. On the face of it this sounds like a petty whinge, but who’s footing the bill, residents ask, and where do the boundaries between public and private lie? Technically, the whole estate is private. Residents pay for its upkeep through their rents and service charges, yet the City Corporation treats it as a public space. That’s understandable. The estate is open, welcoming and attractive. But, residents argue, public use should be paid for from public funds.
Another Bowater House issue is the proposed installation of a cluster of mobile phone masts on its flat roof. In their objection, residents have been joined by an unlikely ally, Taylor Wimpey, the construction firm building the controversial Denizen block of luxury apartments across Fann Street on the site of the former Bernard Morgan House. They are livid that an eyesore and potential health hazard so close to their prized asset might deter would-be buyers from paying top whack for their shiny new City dwellings.
Residents in Stanley Cohen and Crescent House woke up recently to find zero-tolerance notices attached to the plants they keep in the large open communal areas around staircases. This issue has been a running sore since the Grenfell Tower fire, and few would argue that safe evacuation in the event of an emergency is paramount. But some residents feel bullied because the strict “no-plants” policy seems both out of proportion and inconsistent in its policing, plus it is issued as an order to desist, with the words “or else” attached in a threatening manner.
The final entry in the Catalogue of Complaints (this month) comes from young parents who discovered towards the end of last year that City Corporation funding towards nursery places for Golden Lane families at Prior Weston School's Golden Lane Campus has been cut. This was a deal with Prior Weston’s owners, Islington Council, which I’m told was terminated without notice. The Corporation now advises Golden Lane families to use the facilities at John Cass Children’s Centre instead, a full mile across the City through some of London's worst air-quality blackspots.
This not only has all the hallmarks of thoughtless penny-pinching, it appears to contradict the City Corporation's own stated wellbeing policy of supporting young parents. A report 12 months ago identified young parents as a group vulnerable to loneliness. Until recently Golden Lane parents could meet at Prior Weston, swap stories, support each other and oversee quality pre-school development for their toddlers. Now they are forced to abandon talking to each other face to face and to use WhatsApp instead to keep in touch.
In a last-ditch attempt to find something joyful to report, I crossed my fingers as the City Corporation planning committee met to decide the fate of the four healthy trees that sit on the border of the Golden Baggers allotment and the building site that is causing mini-earthquakes inside our flats. I hoped our council might actually stick to its previous pledge to save the trees, but no, a hooded axeman was spotted surveying the Richard Cloudesley site before the meeting had even finished.
Billy Mann lives in Basterfield House on the Golden Lane Estate. He is a teaching assistant, a City of London Community Builder and blogs at scrapbookbilly.blogspot.com. Write to him at goldenlanegazette@gmail.com.
An edited version of this column appeared in the City Matters newspaper, issue 091
Friday 1 February 2019
Diary: January 2019
1 January 2019, Los Cristianos, Tenerife
The fireworks last night were surprisingly spectacular in a very non-grand way. The one I hadn't seen before was like a missile aimed at shooting down enemy aircraft, zooming horizontally at a slight incline into the sky.
1 January 2019, Los Cristianos, Tenerife
This is where the world is today.
8 January 2019, Tenerife
On the return flight, before takeoff, we were asked not to consume anything containing nuts, or to spray perfumes or use nail polish. The reason was passengers with allergies. I asked Jane whether the sandwiches she had made earlier in preparation for our flight home breached this request. She said she didn't think so. I told her I could not remember whether or not I used cologne this morning.
10 January 2019, Hackney
Just tried to add a Reminder to my calendar and by the time I opened the window in which to type the note, I had forgotten what I was trying to remind myself about.
12 January, 2019, London
The Melanie version of 'Ruby Tuesday’ is a revelation.
15 January 2019, London
With Headway and St Luke’s at ‘Modern Couples’ Community View and art workshops. That's me in the middle wearing a flamenco hat and scratching my chin with a large paintbrush.
This is where the world is today.
8 January 2019, Tenerife
On the return flight, before takeoff, we were asked not to consume anything containing nuts, or to spray perfumes or use nail polish. The reason was passengers with allergies. I asked Jane whether the sandwiches she had made earlier in preparation for our flight home breached this request. She said she didn't think so. I told her I could not remember whether or not I used cologne this morning.
10 January 2019, Hackney
Just tried to add a Reminder to my calendar and by the time I opened the window in which to type the note, I had forgotten what I was trying to remind myself about.
12 January, 2019, London
The Melanie version of 'Ruby Tuesday’ is a revelation.
15 January 2019, London
With Headway and St Luke’s at ‘Modern Couples’ Community View and art workshops. That's me in the middle wearing a flamenco hat and scratching my chin with a large paintbrush.
17 January 2019, Hackney
Further to SD's story about his 'nanny’ Rose (20 December 2018) and her petty thieving activities while in charge of the young SD, he told me today about Maria, Rose's successor, and her young daughter Anna. Maria and Anna would go on to become SD's mother and sister.
19 January 2019, London
It was never about Europe, apparently.
Brexit is Britain’s reckoning with itself.
19 January 2019, London
Rachael and Lisa did slot in this called Souled Out. Pauline McLynn (Mrs Doyle from TV’s Father Ted) was another star turn. The whole thing was a tragi-comedy juggling act and female retort to the previously very male exploration of the Faustian thing about selling your soul to the Devil. It put good and evil, morality and ethics, dilemma and conundrum into the pot and shook it up. Left feeling that all of life itself is some sort of Pact.
20 January 2019, London
I have just spotted an unintentional, accidental half-baked metaphor in my last City Matters column. Towards the end of the piece I explain that I am filing the column from the island of Tenerife and go on to draw a couple of similarities with London. One is the north-south divide, “and bang in the middle is an active volcano,” I state, describing the alien landscape of Mount Teide. It never occurred to me at the time that the City is a volatile, strange mini-state within London, remote, rock-hard work and potentially dangerous. It is also constantly renewing itself, which parallels a volcano constantly renewing the earth's surface.
22 January 2019, London
My notes for a talk with two large groups of physios at St George’s University, Tooting for Headway. I used the visit as an opportunity to pop in to see the Bridges crew: Heide, Tess and Chrissy.
During the training talk, one of the students asked me if I was Liverpool or Everton, a reference to the text in my painting 'Surrender’. I asked him to guess and he chose Everton. I asked why and he replied, “because you are quite humble.”
23 January 2019, London
Rachael and Lisa came to the coffee and chat at the community centre and it was amazing to see the ease with which they slipped into chatting with people such as Naomi, Lela and Brigitte. It must be part of their skills in getting their ‘Verbatim Theatre’ scripts together
24 January 2019, London
SL at Headway has written about her brain injury. She used to work in business in the City and it is nice to see in her writing that she has somehow managed to turn the bullet-point list into a form of poetry.Further to SD's story about his 'nanny’ Rose (20 December 2018) and her petty thieving activities while in charge of the young SD, he told me today about Maria, Rose's successor, and her young daughter Anna. Maria and Anna would go on to become SD's mother and sister.
19 January 2019, London
It was never about Europe, apparently.
Brexit is Britain’s reckoning with itself.
19 January 2019, London
Rachael and Lisa did slot in this called Souled Out. Pauline McLynn (Mrs Doyle from TV’s Father Ted) was another star turn. The whole thing was a tragi-comedy juggling act and female retort to the previously very male exploration of the Faustian thing about selling your soul to the Devil. It put good and evil, morality and ethics, dilemma and conundrum into the pot and shook it up. Left feeling that all of life itself is some sort of Pact.
20 January 2019, London
I have just spotted an unintentional, accidental half-baked metaphor in my last City Matters column. Towards the end of the piece I explain that I am filing the column from the island of Tenerife and go on to draw a couple of similarities with London. One is the north-south divide, “and bang in the middle is an active volcano,” I state, describing the alien landscape of Mount Teide. It never occurred to me at the time that the City is a volatile, strange mini-state within London, remote, rock-hard work and potentially dangerous. It is also constantly renewing itself, which parallels a volcano constantly renewing the earth's surface.
22 January 2019, London
My notes for a talk with two large groups of physios at St George’s University, Tooting for Headway. I used the visit as an opportunity to pop in to see the Bridges crew: Heide, Tess and Chrissy.
During the training talk, one of the students asked me if I was Liverpool or Everton, a reference to the text in my painting 'Surrender’. I asked him to guess and he chose Everton. I asked why and he replied, “because you are quite humble.”
23 January 2019, London
Rachael and Lisa came to the coffee and chat at the community centre and it was amazing to see the ease with which they slipped into chatting with people such as Naomi, Lela and Brigitte. It must be part of their skills in getting their ‘Verbatim Theatre’ scripts together
24 January 2019, London
28 January 2019, London
A bit of drivel for Headway award entry
The voice of brain injury isn’t an especially loud one. It is soft, reluctant, cautious even. Those who have been affected by a catastrophic life-changing event, don’t shout about it too much. They are best heard in their actions, and it is in what the members of the Headway East London community in Haggerston do for each other that has the greatest impact. Just recently one of them spoke at the bookshop Pages of Hackney about the agony of deciding whether to undergo brain surgery that might OR MIGHT NOT relieve his condition. Every two months, a whole team of them prepare and deliver an evening of freshly cooked food and fun for the Headway Eats supper club, attended regularly by up to 60 guests at Headway HQ, Timber Wharf, Kingsland Road. And art by Headway members, made in their Submit to Love studio, can be seen all over Hackney, most recently at vfdalston, where member Tony got to show off his unique typographical skills.
With a lot of love, Headway does Hackney proud by taking what to many looks like an insurmountable disability and turns it into something super-special, something worth shouting about and something worth sharing.
31 January 2019, London
Got to attend a posh exhibition of S2L studio art at Rathbones, an ancient capitalist investment outfit at 8 Finsbury Circus in the City. The views from the 8th floor were spectacular and the evening was well managed and enjoyable, and I discovered from the CEO's speech that Rathbones started in Liverpool. I helped Cecil sell his Tower Bridge picture to an unsuspecting punter called Elizabeth, who fell, as I knew she would, for Cecil’s obvious charms. Jane bought my brain picture for £120. I think it was a pity purchase, so I agreed that the money should come out of the family account. The group picture here shows me and Michelle posing with some Rathbones people and the Many Faces of Eve collaborative painting, for which I wrote a mini-essay in the exhibition leaflet.
31 January 2019, London
Got to attend a posh exhibition of S2L studio art at Rathbones, an ancient capitalist investment outfit at 8 Finsbury Circus in the City. The views from the 8th floor were spectacular and the evening was well managed and enjoyable, and I discovered from the CEO's speech that Rathbones started in Liverpool. I helped Cecil sell his Tower Bridge picture to an unsuspecting punter called Elizabeth, who fell, as I knew she would, for Cecil’s obvious charms. Jane bought my brain picture for £120. I think it was a pity purchase, so I agreed that the money should come out of the family account. The group picture here shows me and Michelle posing with some Rathbones people and the Many Faces of Eve collaborative painting, for which I wrote a mini-essay in the exhibition leaflet.
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