Tag Archives: travel

spaces

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A creative on stage performing

i went on a recent trip across london to a theatre space in battersea power station called ‘arches lane theatre.’ it was a small stage under railway arches. the journey took about an hour during a day with no piccadilly line and a bus strike. but i still made the journey as the event was a preview show for a comedians tour that i liked. whilst there i looked around the battersea shopping centre. rows of shops that you could get anywhere in an impressive hall. i ate a meal at one of the many restaurants and grabbed a coffee at one of the many cafes. all good.

the show was great and a bargain for ten pounds. but a shadow was hanging over the evening. the theatre was going to close to be replaced by another restaurant. the theatre folk didn’t want to leave and had started a petition to wandsworth council. following the no notice decision. yet again we are going to lose an important space. when councils or authorities or management come to these decisions it is always for short-sighted reasons. they think: we can make more money doing a restaurant than having a theatre. they do not see they will remove the reason for me going there. that a restaurant will lose a group buying a meal. a cafe will lose people buying coffees. my reason for crossing london to go to battersea would have gone. i have theatres nearer me and there are restaurants aplenty. the shopping experience i can get many other places closer to me. my journeys to battersea will come to an end.

but it is not just the financial impact closing a small theatre can have on an area. there is another impact as well. it impacts up-and-coming creatives, performers, artists. when starting out they need these smaller venues to try out their material and see if it works. provide an opportunity to develop a show and refine skills. smaller venues are more affordable in a time when government continues to underfund the arts despite the money the creative industry brings to gdp. quite often creatives are producing shows at loss. they are funding the work through other day jobs. they make the art despite the lack of support. what do we the punter get? we get to see new and emerging talent. maybe something no one else is yet doing. even possibly a new star in the making. but all of this will be lost if small venues continue to close due to short-sighted authorities.

i manage a bookshop and small arts events space. we can hold about an audience of thirty. the premises are run as a cooperative and we go out of our way to support creatives who want to develop a show. we are always willing to listen to an idea. we dont make a lot of money out of it. we do it because such spaces are important. not just for us but for future creatives. for everyone.

moment 27

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big red stood in the yard. broad shouldered and tall. taller than most there. he could easily carry more than a hundred. once. now, not so sure. time had transformed him. no longer days wandering the streets of the city, saying hello to new folk. folk local to the place and visitors from far off lands he would never see. tales of gleaming buildings, monorails and cars that walked themselves. tales of streets filled with people, almost unable to move, fighting to get home. home to their small boxes with small rooms and small children. in his city not so busy. instead narrow roads, grime-covered bricks, litter dancing on pavements, and sleeping drunks at bus stops. most were nice to him, grateful of his help, happy he was there. others swore at him, hit him as he passed or scrawled obscenities on him as he slept. no, he was old and travelled the city streets no more. instead, he sat in the yard, changed. some days were good. people would come to him, get a drink at a table in sun, or study vibrant art. other times, laughter filled the air. they sat on him listening, waiting for the punchline to come. and the lonely times, he would just sit there, in the yard, in the dark, waiting for day to break. waiting for the company of people. he did not mind his end times. there was nothing he could do. but sit. wait. big red.

new york

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a guy plays sax for coin on the corner of 6th avenue and 55 street. mechanical rabbits and cats dance to the beat. a few walkers tap their feet to the rhythm, sway to the sound. but give no dime. they’re too busy waiting to cross. pass the manhole covers venting steam in the 31 heat. they cross. on their way to meet. sit in a bar. sip a cool beer.
outside barnes & noble on 5th avenue a grey old man sleeps. head on a box. slumbered. he holds a sign in one hand. black marker pen: please help i am homeless, oh god save us all, oh god save us all. he makes no dollar. he doesn’t notice.
the street sellers set up their plastic crates with goods for the night crowds. genuine rolexes and gucci bags for a ten. they give their patter to the tourists. everything is for sale. even souls.
the queue builds outside the rock. the red carpet awaits. cool efficiency bundles the bodies in for a view like no other. come enjoy the ride. sorry the tops closed. lightning expected.
the wise seek shelter in the air-cooled diner. iced lattes and milk shakes with candy floss. all day breakfast. delivered with a smile. they work hard for their tip. the manager smiles.
in dillon’s the locals drink ice-cool beer and watch the sports on the many screens. how we doing in paris? there is the crack of the pool table as the screen light gleams off the copper jars hanging from the ceiling.
in the bar of the renwick hotel loud music plays. you have to sell a kidney to pay for a beer. they take your money with a smile. a drunk new yorker tells you about his wall street deals and visit to london. he’s scathing of both. but it is no better here.
the strand bookstore. the lost wander the shelves looking for loved ones. they find them hardbound. there is the smell of coffee by the graphic novels and teenage girls browse the romance novels. not that one – my mum would kill me!
lafayette is a place of chilled wine and flaky pastry. pistachio cream filled croissants are devoured eagerly as talk turns to the best shops for sneakers. have you tried macy’s?
in the white horse tavern in west village tourists drink cocktails and tell stories of dylan thomas. you can’t help thinking the place was better then.
empty boutique stores in greenwich village display designer goods without the price tag. no one goes in. the locals instead walk their dogs and talk of the best place to get coffee.
in washington square the young play for the crowds. street sellers have handcrafted trinkets. you can play chess for a fee. a bare chested man practices his dance moves. too vigorous. his shorts fall down. unperturbed. he dances on.
times square you get bundles by mickey and his friend mickey. with mickey. their mouse features are fixed grinned. menacing. the screens pop ads encouraging you to spend. come on! embrace the american dream.