1. Aliki’s Dinosaurs

On Tuesday I went to Bromley Library, South London, to return The Life of Pi (a brilliant read, if you haven’t read it) for my son.

For me, no trip to the library is complete without a peruse around the For Sale section, the library book graveyard. Occupying a shelf all by itself was the awesome (and I never use this word) Times Atlas of the World, almost the size of the world and just as heavy. (I know I am supposed to be writing about Aliki, but bear with me).

I have always admired this book. As a child, I would look at it for hours in the reference section of my local library. The paper is good and thick, and has that mattness I lust after. I still love looking at maps. I never, tire of the London A – Z.

In the nineties I worked at Stanford’s in London. If you don’t know it, it’s a travel book and map shop on Long Acre in Covent Garden. I had recently graduated from art college.  It was a great time in my life. I had just met my husband, he was working nearby for a small graphic design company. In Stanford’s, The Times Atlas of the World had a special display table with just one book on the top. I would open it to a different page every day. I can’t remember ever selling a copy, I think it was about a hundred pounds, even then.

The Bromley edition was a mess. Sad, but made me happy because I would have no problem with the butchering. Many, many, many people had enjoyed this book. Dreaming of far off climes, or maybe showing their children a relative’s birthplace.

I always knew the book would never be mine. I knew before I picked it up exactly how heavy it was. Even during my excitement at spotting it, I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry it home. I have spine issues. That’s my spine, not the book’s. I have carried forbidden things in the past, and painfully regretted doing so for months afterwards. I left the library extremely forlorn, I’m not exaggerating.

I hope it went to a good home.

About ten minutes later I called into a local charity shop. I still can’t believe my luck. There it was, My Visit To The Dinosaurs (first published in 1969, this edition 1972) by Aliki. I fantasize about finding a book by Aliki. I once did, but its condition was too good to use in my work. This one has lived a thousand lives. It is no stranger to sellotape.  Most of the pages are not attached to the spine, some have been reattached, quite obviously, out of sequence. It was once owned by a V. Stephens, who once owned a blue Biro and had neat handwriting.

I can’t wait to breathe new life into it.

Aliki Brandenburg was born in 1929, and grew up in Philadelphia as part of a big Greek family. She writes and illustrates the most beautiful of books. She says “Children’s books are a combination of two things I love: words and pictures”. Her two children, Jason and Alexa, appear in most of her illustrations. I believe that she now lives in London, although that may be wishful thinking.

There are a few groovy dads visiting the dinosaurs, so if I can get my act together I may make a couple of Father’s Day cards. However, I may not. I am really on a roll with those old uniforms.

That’s an actual fresh-air-gap between the front and back cover

One of many out-of-sequence repair jobs

A section from the back cover, beautiful isn’t it?

And this is Aliki

2. Red Shirts

The image above is taken from a map, I am making, of the Charing Cross area of London. It is made from the red shirts (old uniforms worn by myself and my colleagues) which I blogged about earlier. This section of the map is the area covered by The National Gallery and The National Portrait Gallery. I intend the finished piece to be much larger.

All of the faces have been cut from two issues of  ’Completely London’, which regularly finds itself on my doormat. I don’t throw it away because it is a great read and a thing of beauty. If you don’t know it, it’s a high quality free magazine produced by the estate agents, Kinleigh Folkard and Hayward. It is not thrown together. It looks good, smells good, and often finds its way into my art – although, I never go searching for it and only ever use the copies which arrive, unannounced, at my door. The articles are generally about my favourite subject – people who are doing things against the grain. Above, are some of these people, plus some others who happened to fit nicely into the spaces.  Below, I aim to tell you who they are. I have sewn them onto my map out of admiration and with respect, and hope they see it that way.

I am now going to try and name everybody correctly. In front of me I have a pile of notes and magazine remains….. this may take longer than the sewing.

Numbers 1-19 are taken from Issue 11 and numbers 12-36 are taken from Issue 9.

1. From a hand-drawn sign advertising  Peculiar Unisex Hair of Leyton.  The photograph was originally taken from Shit London by Patrick Dalton, 2011.

2. Alex Hunter, who (along with Danny Clancy) owns  Bonnie Gull, a “unique venue serving up a sandy slice of nostalgia pie” in Fitzrovia. Article by Zeren Wilson and photograph by Anders Schonnemann. I would’ve included Danny too, except he was at a really odd angle. Might try and include his apron somewhere else in the map.

3. Jessica Cargill Thompson, writer/editor. Wrote the article about Stephen Wright ( see 18).

4. Laura Tennant, journalist.

5. Jon Enoch, photographer, see 15.

6. Vic Lee, a brilliant artist, mainly depicting images of London.

7. Donna Hardie, Editor of ‘Completely London’.

8. The actress in the advert for Ligne Roset, if you know her name please give me a shout.

9, 10 and 11 are taken from an article by Rupert Mellor about people who do random acts of kindness. The photographs were taken by Travis Hodges (see 35).

9. Gem Rudd-Orthner, goes around London giving out balloons willy nilly. Brilliant. I have tried to add a link to Gem, but without success.

10a, b and c. Members of The Kindness Offensive, who do random acts of kindness. Look them up, they’re great. David Goodfellow is the founder. Know the other two?

11. Arlene Cameron, an all-singing, all-dancing lollipop lady. She works outside South Grove Primary School in Walthamstow.

12. Taken from a photograph by Rhapsody Media.

13. Two images from a poster on the wall of a gorgeous house, in East Dulwich, belonging to Ben Anders (who took the photograph) and Vanessa Leigh-Anders.  Anyone know the artist?

14. Street artist unknown, but is working on Belisha beacons in EC1. Photograph by Patrick Dalton (see 1).

15. I’m afraid this lady doesn’t get a credit, she is in a photograph to accompany an article about happiness. Jon Enoch (see 5) took the photograph.

16. Rufus Hound, taken from the advert for ‘One Man, Two Govnors’ at The National Theatre.

17. Dr. Mervi Pitknen, who, like me, loves Blackheath.

18. Stephen Wright, artist. Stephen’s art is his house. It looks amazing, and you can visit. Full of dismembered dolls (I have included some in my piece), plastic hair rollers, glass eyeballs, false teeth, Max Bygraves LPs……. I love it when he says, “I’m only looking for certain things. Things that speak to me. Imperfections are important and I don’t like things that are clean and spotless. I like things that have been used, that have a bit of history, a memory.” His other stuff is incredible, as well. I take my hat off to you, Stephen. The article was written by Jessica Cargill Thompson (see 3), and the photographs were taken by Ingrid Rasmussen (see 32).

19. Harry Cloudfoot, who likes to shimmy along a low-strung piece of elastic between two trees. Slacklining, it’s called.  There are groups of people doing this in parks all over London. Sounds great, but news to me. Photograph by Martin Usborne, article by Tabby Kinder.

20 and 21. Ronald Grant and Martin Humphries, co-founders of Kennington’s ‘Cinema Museum’ ( located in the Master’s House of the former Lambeth Workhouse, where Charlie Chaplin once lived. Article by Rupert Mellor, photographs by Martin Usborne. They do all kinds of exciting stuff, check them out.

22. Chris Pounds has been the farm manager at Hackney City Farm for 12 years. This area was farmland up until the 1850′s, nice that it’s farmland again, satisfying.

23. Penelope Koliopoulou is a brilliant young artist. In her photographs she plays both parts of an imaginary couple. She won first prize in a competition hosted by KFH to find new artistic talent.

24a and b. Joseph Egan and Hunter Thomson met in a library (like them already) and create installations which need to be viewed from a certain angle. I love their work. The site listed in the magazine is colourblinddesign.com, I tried to add a link here – but kept getting a foodie website. Could be my fault.

25. These absolutely wonderful illustrations were made by Annette Moi, who was highly commended in the competition won by Penelope Koliopoulou (see 23).

26, 27 and 28 are all taken from a beautifully photographed (by Ingrid Rasmussen, see 32) article about the demise of the classic London caff.

26. This lady is from Gambardella, a cafe in Vanbrugh Park, SE3. It opened in 1927 and is now run by James and Alex (perhaps this is her?) Petrillo. Part of the interior was an old Lyon’s tea room.

27a and b. This couple don’t get a mention, but they are featured in a photograph of River Cafe, Putney Bridge Approach SW6.

28. I’m assuming this is Nev Pellicci who runs E Pellicci in Bethnal Green.  E Pellicci (once a meeting place for the Krays) is listed and was established in 1900. I love the  beautifully written board (white writing on red) displaying hot drink choices.

29. Glenn Horder (here dressed as Elizabeth I – the rest of his outfit is amazing), who ‘has a repertoire of characters that ranges from Audrey Hepburn to the Queen’. Taken from an article about ‘those for whom the lure of the dressing-up box goes way beyond the odd outfit hire’. Photograph by Travis Hodges (see 35). I placed this picture on the area of my map which is the site of The National Portrait Gallery, as there are a couple of exquisite portraits of the real Elizabeth I on display there. I searched through my entire collection of magazines just to find this picture of Glenn, it was worth it. The National Portrait Gallery is on the site of a workhouse.

30. Elizabeth II.  Part of a small article about events taking place to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee. Photograph by Cecil Beaton.

31. These are lovely illustrations by Chris Bianchi, of Debut Art, for an article about the Great Beer Flood of 1814. A giant vat of beer, at a brewery now the site of The Dominion Theatre,  burst open and flooded the local area. Eight people were killed. The brewery was taken to court, but the judge found that the victims had died as an Act of God. Keith Barker-Main wrote this article, which I read three times.

32. Ingrid Rasmussen, photographer. See 18, 26, 27 and 28.

33. Karen Hodkinson,  journalist. See  24.

34. Edwin Heathcote, writer and architect.

35. Travis Hodges, photographer. See  9, 10, 11 and 29.

36. Four images. Abi Lees, Tom Lancaster, Evie, and a lovely chalk drawing by Evie. It was taken from an article by Dominic Lutyens about ‘Shoe String Chic’, which shows how Abi and Tom decorated their beautiful home in Crouch End.  It was Evie’s chalk drawing that caught my attention, but I’m pleased that I also managed to squeeze in the artist and her parents.

37. The only face not to be taken from ‘Completely London’. It is, of course, the face of Max from ‘Where The Wild Things Are’ by the great Maurice Sendak, who died almost exactly a year ago. This map started out being a bit of a tribute to Sendak, but it took a different path as ‘Completely London’ was pushed through my letterbox and I remembered that picture of Glenn dressed as Elizabeth I.

This list is very much a work in progress, I have tried to credit  everyone  faithfully. I have tried to add all of the links given in the magazine. It has taken ages! I did it because it doesn’t seem right to use a picture of a person without mentioning who they are. and informing them (my next task). I have not enjoyed it as I have yearned to get back to my map, and also worried that I would offend someone. I hope I haven’t misspelled a name or missed someone out. If you know something I don’t, please tell.

1. Red Shirts

About two and a half years ago, the gallery where I work decided to change the colour of its uniform. We were now to have blue shirts and red ties, instead of red shirts and blue ties.

As much as I hate wearing a uniform, I loved those red shirts. Red is blood. Red is solidarity. I liked, at the end of the day, as we tried to clear the gallery, to look over the balcony at the sea of red flowing toward the doors. Pale blue isn’t the same.

We were asked to hand in our shirts, they could not be given to charity shops because of the logo, and most had seen better times.

As the days passed, the mountain of shirts grew.

I really wanted that mountain of shirts. Those shirts contained the blood, sweat, tears and coffee of us. Those shirts kept us in our place, or so it felt sometimes. The managers and curators didn’t wear them, the people on more than minimum wage, the people who tell us what to do. The people who don’t  know my name. Those shirts represent a lot.

In the end it was too much, I just couldn’t let those shirts go. I had no idea what I was going to do with them, but those shirts had been worn by my colleages, day in and day out, good days and bad. I had to make something with them.

As I started picking them up I realised I couldn’t take them without knowing who had worn them. I have always loved the way Van Gogh named his sitters as if he valued them as people, and hated the way Picasso often didn’t. In this  job I frequently feel like a non-person, so it became important to me  only to take the shirts with names. Looking back, I wish I had taken the lot. The fact that most of the shirts didn’t have a name is very symbolic, I didn’t see it at the time.

My husband put them in the attic with a sigh, where they have been ever since.

Last week I had an urge to do something with them, so now the house (I don’t have a studio) is full of red shirts,  just in time for my father-in-law’s visit tomorrow.

So far, I have started embroidering words onto my collar, cut out a map of the area where I work, and, started to join squares taken from each shirt. Plenty of sewing to keep me busy on the train.

New Home Upcycled Tablecloth Cards

123, 120, 121 and 122

Numbers: 120-123

I found this moth-eaten, food-stained, but beautifully embroidered tablecloth in a charity shop (‘Air Ambulance’ on Station Approach, Hayes BR2 – the lady told me it had been left in a bag outside) some time ago. It would’ve actually hurt me to leave the shop without it. It’s a illness. I felt sad for the unknown embroiderer and brought it home to give it the love and respect it deserves (cue husband: “Not another piece of junk!” and so on..).

A few months ago I made  four ‘New Home’ cards using old cereal boxes (except one – which is a grease-free pizza box), but recently gave them a little tweak   Each is different, some have a few stains. Within the marks I see a family sitting around a table having a special meal, I imagine this tablecloth has seen many happy birthdays and maybe some sad occasions. These cards are a tribute to its maker, wherever they may be.

If you would like to buy one, you can find them in my shop.

13. ‘Birds’ by Brian Wildsmith (1969), Ten Tiny Paperchase Cards

Numbers: 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78 and 42

Used every last scrap of the book making these tiny patchwork cards, not to sell but to give as gifts. They are mounted onto blank Paperchase cards given to me by a friend. The paper looks handmade, it’s  not cut well and the cards do not align, but I can’t bring myself to undermine somebody else’s work by trimming them down – especially as that person probably works for a pittance somewhere else in the world.

Very satisfying to have used the whole book, but also a little sad to have nothing left.

There are twelve other posts relating to this book.

70

71

72

73

75

74

76

77

78

42

12. ‘Birds’ by Brian Wildsmith (1969), Seven Small Cards

Numbers: 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68 and 69

Rather than waste the very small illustrations, I often make very small cards. I sometimes include them as gifts in an order. I haven’t put these in my shop as they only measure 5.5cms x 5.5cms, when folded.

Little bit of trivia – There is a ‘Brian Wildsmith Museum’ in Japan. The Japanese know a good thing when they see it.

Tiny Cards

63

64

65

66

67

69

11. ‘Birds’ by Brian Wildsmith (1969), The Cover

Numbers: 59, 60, 61 and 62

In my frenzy to use every part of the book, I made these postcard from the cover. The card was very thick and it took a number of scores before my scalpel finally went all the way through. I didn’t manage to get it straight, and so will keep these cards for personal use. However, although it was damaged, I wish I hadn’t cut the cover at all. What was I thinking?

59

60

61

62