Moving into Brick Lane in order to document, engage and interact with the street. Drawing, photographing and collecting as much information as we can. Brick Lane is a wonderfully multi cultured place and gives a real thriving appeal to the heart of London. The problem I find that with Brick Lane, and this type of task, is that it’s very easy to be drawn to the street art along the way. It is vastly fantastic to see the amount of work put it, and detail to some pieces that work to give the street a magical artist feeling. However, I don’t think this is the heart of Brick Lane. I took as many photographs of new street art as I thought necessary but I was looking for something else.
I moved my attention to a more personal approach, the quality of the street. In terms of cleanliness and how the people leave the street as they come and go. I found it to be a bit dirty. Stained streets, stacks of rubbish. I did notice the approach people took to using the cigarette stumps on top of the bins. A good idea and convenient as it is, I couldn’t help notice that the people would just leave the fag ends on top the bins, and then they would just blow away, creating litter. This gave me the impression of a street that cares, but could care less.
The people of Brick Lane. It was a cold day, not many people around, or not as many as there usually is. I tried to capture people going by their way, not taking note that I had a camera. People engaged into conversations, walking, jogging, standing, working, or with their heads in the mobile phone.
Typography that mainly consisted of signage, shop fronts, road signs, notices. Varying from one typeface to another, no consistency, in many languages dotted about the place. More attention to the typography could have been needed but I was still looking for something less obvious.
I feel like I had my something. As I was drawing and photographing away, I couldn’t help notice the constant display of bicycles. The variety was immense, no two bikes the same. I found that my photography of the bikes had become a typology. I found them quite humorous as some of these bikes had no seat, no wheels, some just a frame. This leads amazing sense of wonder to the narrative of what happened to these bicycles.