“Forty Eight what?” Art tours? ‘ere mate, ‘ave some Gang Wizard…



“Forty Eight?”
“Forty Eight what?”
“Forty Eight, want forty eight” said the guy who just rode his bike in to the gallery, “Forty eight”
Sunday morning down the street, hot sticky Sunday morning in hot sticky London, the loud ranting priest in the converted old post office that serves as an African Church at the top of the street is competing with the oil-covered sinners from the Cyprus taxi garage and their very loud techno, and there goes a man with a very large canvas, followed by another man carrying a smaller piece of artwork, and a third with a rather traditional sculpture tucked under his arm like it was a copy of The Times…

And someone just came in and said “A high moral tone is always a two edged sword….” for no reason what-so-ever….

Meanwhile there’s an interview with Ivca Vostrovska of new Vyner street gallery House of Vostrovska to be found via this link here.  House of Vostrovska is the latest gallery to open in Vyner Street, the latest in the ever evolving revolving regenerating ever changing list of spaces that make Vyner Street so alive and interesting

the view through the always open door

the view through the always open Cultivate door

“Forty Eight what?”

On 18/08/2012 17:44, Sean wrote:

Summer in the Street, massive ”I-swear-on-me-muffa’s-life-I-didn’t-take-it” “you aLways say that, your mum’s been dead for years you liar” “she took it, she always takes the last one, I’ll swear on whatever yer want that she took it” crackhead yelling match going on right now while simultaneously the mob of slightly frustrated occupants in the the delightfully un-gentrified ‘proper’ pub over the road yell at Arsenal’s inability to “just put it in the f***ing net” via the big screen and some dodgy illegal broadcast from who knows what country.  Tony Two Vans probably set it up, the dodgy feed so they can watch the match I mean, don’t really want to know what else Two Vans sets up.  Start of the season today, well no one around here can afford to go to the actual match, so dubious broadcast via Thai TV beamed back to London for people to yell at is how the start of the football season looks these day.   The crackheads never do much more than yell (very loudly), they look like a gone to seed East London Happy Monday’s tribute band taking it all just a little too far and today’s yelling match was over the last pill that has just been dropped on the cobblestone road right outside the always open gallery door “hello Paul mate, sorry about all the noise, it’s all down to her, thieving cow, what you got in here that’s new then? Cor, like that one, we don’t need pills in ‘ere, look at the f***in’ colours in, look at the state of that one, we like your gallery Paul, you don’t mind us looking do yer?”.  They always call me Paul, isn’t worth trying to put them right, no idea who Paul is? “That’s well good mate, that artist must ‘ave been well stoned, I might buy that one, how much is it?”.  The people on the art tour missed all that yelling and the “well good” painting, mind you the people on the art tour miss most things while they follow their clueless art-student leader with their middle class middle aged heads buried in their guide books as they walk past clutching their cameras and their Tate carrier bags, heads down, missing everything, following their glorious leader, his nose in the air trying to avoid eye contact while he leads them past all the galleries and down to the “big” “proper” gallery at the end of the street all the time telling them what a cutting edge art street he’s leading them along, leading them to that polite place where everything is nice and safe and all the rules are neatly obeyed, heaven forbid they should actually come over here and dirty their shoes with some art their guide doesn’t guide them too, can’t have that, no no no, leave that to the crackheads and the disillusioned first-day-of-the-season Aresenal fans from the pub.   The art world is riddled with conservative safety nets and the fear of an unapproved encounter, theirs is a world of biennials and guide books and a need for printed permission and guided opinion and no, we can’t go in those little galleries, they’re not on our official Time Out Whitechapel map of approval, who knows why curiosity doesn’t drag an eye over, so many rules and people to follow them. They miss out on the ‘well good’ paintings.  Me? I can never pass a gallery without at least a quick look and a mental note to come back if it looks like it might be worth it, my artistic curiosity wouldn’t allow me just a little look… Still, it isn’t all crackheads and Arsenal fans, we’ve had a busy day today, all kinds of interesting and indeed interested people…

Summer in the street, thirty degrees and paint melting on the pavement and the act of viewing art is a strange one. “Beautiful colour in here” said the male half of the well dressed couple who just pulled up in a Aston Martin, earlier today we sold a small Emma Harvey oil painting to a very sweet older lady who said she liked to save up and buy small pieces of art just because she enjoys a treat and it pleases her to look at it, she comes in often, she always like to tell tales about how she was a model in the 1950’s and how rough this street was before “you arty people came along, not that mean that as an insult dear, I know some around here don’t like the arties, but I like you arty people…”. Came back with her friend later so they could see some more and tell more tales of East London in the 50;s and 60[s and the things they got up to,,,

Alec Monopoly, art on the street?

Alec Monopoly, art on the street, no need to come in

“We won’t go in there it looks a bit street art” said the pale bean-pole of a youth with the backpack,  paintbrush sticking out of breast pocket of tweed jacket and the straw hat, we can catch all kinds of snippets of conversations through out open door,,,  “I won’t come in to your gallery, I’m only interested in street art” said the German five minutes later, I know he was German because I went out to talk to him when he looked lost and confused  seems he was following some sort of trial of Stik figures on an app on his mobile phone, went off taking photos of the Alec Monopoly paste up and the Christiaan Nagel Mushroom that has just appeared on a roof when I pointed them out to him, gave him directs to really find where the local Stik pieces are (there’s a good one hidden behind Iceland in Mare Street, shame the one high up on the tower has just been cleaned off by some property developer who wants to open a music venue and art centre),  but the German street art fans still wouldn’t come in, so I dragged a big piece out, “there you go, its on the street, street art’ he happily took photos of one of my pieces out on the street, but still insisted he only went in galleries that showed street art so he wouldn’t come in.  

Have some Gang Wizard

Have some Gang Wizard

Stupidly hot here, been another interesting day down the street, Arsenal never did score “stop smirking over there you arty Manc *$%*, I thought people in art galleries were too up themselves for football anyway!”  We get all sorts coming in here (or walking past here), we get all sorts of people asking all sorts of questions “did you paint all of these?” “what do you think this artist is really trying to argue here?” “hey Paul, can I use your phone to call my brother, I’ve lost mine” – no, you can’t phone your dealer on my phone mate. No I didn’t paint all these, there’s fourteen painters in here, it would be a confused artist painting all of these don’t you think?. So the crackheads are fighting because their man is late again, the walking tour people have been short changed, the Arsenal fans think their season is over and it’s just about time to close the doors on another Saturday, first day of the football season, summer in the street, too hot to paint properly….

Here’s some Gong Wizard while we’re here or even some GANG WIZARD!

is this working? Is this working? Is this working? Is this working? Is this working?  Is this working?

Oh look, more disjointed notes from various different days down the street…. they’ll go up tomorrow, or maybe the next day… .  Forty Eight what?

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