31/10/2012 § Leave a comment
Nostalgia has kicked in.
A heady mixture of allergy tablets, a pint, a cigarette, half a bottle of prosecco. Night time orange glow from the living room, my partner fiddling with a guitar. And up on the roof, a plastic-burn smell from the neighbouring roof-bonfire, the twinkling lights from the toy-town double deckers, a distance sea of ants traipsing round the perimeters of the stadium. A heavy low yellowed half-moon hanging in the hazy, electrical blue of the late night sky above east London.
Again, its about a lack of knowing. Another moment of chlostrophobic irritation mingled with the all-to-familiar fear of leaving, in a setting that has changed so much, but remained my constant, anchoring love for the last 3 years.
My home, my biggest adventure and the bane of my life, all encompassed in the creaking walls and leaky ceilings of this run-down, propped-up, and (god knows how) listed, Hackney Wick warehouse.
This is my fourth summer here and each seems to have brought with it a recurring sense of drama. The most pleasant possible time you can be here is the summer. We are on the top floor, with high-pitched eaves, the hotness and lightness comparable to that of a greenhouse. But there’s always something else, some poignant upheaval to triumph over and the beginnings of a new adventure on the horizon;
The first summer, I moved here broke and heartbroken and set about major excavations to build myself ‘something new’.
The second, residential bliss metamorphosed into tempestuous love and ruin. Then new love, new ambition, new direction.
The third summer was end of the affair. The beginning of a new career a home, a family.
The fourth; The Olympics, perfectly timed with the announcement of the rent increase that will finally see us out of the door.
This is not an exceptional night by any means, just another early August evening, sat on the roof with my thoughts. Watching life below snake around the newly built roadways, the twinkling lights are now from passenger vehicles rather than cranes, the background murmurs are made by crowds not diggers. The Olympics is an already fond, but distant memory. The future? Its open for debate, but my days here are now numbered.
24/10/2012 § Leave a comment
17/10/2012 § Leave a comment
Saturday 20 October, 6pm-1am | ICA
To celebrate Art Licks Magazine’s second birthday, past contributors are taking part in this one-night event at the ICA. With young and emerging artists, collectives, curators and writers; a mix of performances, work, readings, interventions, films and artist DJs, will take over the ICA Studio and Bar.
Performances and work: Studio, 6-8pm
Artist films: Bar, 6-8pm
Performances and artist DJs: Bar, 8pm-1am
TAKING PART… Pio Abad, Amber Ablett, Larry Achiampong, Rachel Adams, Aaron Angell, Sam Austen, Giles Bailey, Space In Between, Ché Zara Blomfield, Bubblebyte.org, James Capper, Seecum Cheung, Paolo Cirio, Patrick Coyle, Richard Cramp, Jo Dennis, Luke Drozd, Tom Ensom, Sara Nunes Fernandes, Edward Fornieles, Andrea Francke, Gandt, Ian Giles, Luke Hart, They Are Here, Lee Holden, Jeremy Hutchison, James Irwin, JocJonJosch, Paul Kindersley, John Lawrence, Juliana Cerqueira Leite, less., Tom Lovelace, Tessa Lynch, Simon Linington & William Mackrell, Kit Merritt, Jammie Nicholas, Tamarin Norwood, Or-bits, Eddie Peake, Hannah Perry, Copenhagen Place, Ladies of the Press*, Sabrina Ratté, Sophie Risner, Eva Rowson, Ilona Sagar, Tom Saunderson, Benjamin Sebastian, Louise Shelley, Holly Slingsby, Man Somerlinck, Patrick Staff, Rosalind Davis, Aoife Van Linden Tol, Superlative TV, Claire Undy, Mónica Rivas Velásquez, Vulpes Vulpes, Ben Wheele, Michael White, Ben Woodeson, group+work, Rehana Zaman.
The just released, Issue Nine will be available on the night, alongside back issues of the magazine.