At the Zoo.
Posted: November 27, 2015 Filed under: Architectural, Vanishings, Wildlife | Tags: Berhtold Lubetkin, David O'Shaughnessy, East London Photomonth, Hackney Wick, London Hipsters, London Zoo, Lubetkin penguin pool, Zoo Logical 1 Comment
© David O’Shaughnessy.
David Secombe:
My old friend David O’Shaughnessy has an exhibition currently on show at Stour Space, Hackney Wick (part of Photomonth, the east London photography festival). David’s show is called Zoo Logical, and is a study of the habitats of zoo animals in New York, Dublin and, as showcased here, London.
© David O’Shaughnessy.
The key word is habitat: the animals themselves are absent. The viewer is confronted with a series of disconcertingly empty rooms reminiscent of deserted stage sets: which is, of course, the point. The animals are expected to perform for our benefit, and their man-made surroundings either mimic their natural environment or display them as specimens in an alien setting. (As beautiful as Berthold Lubetkin’s penguin pool is, the birds themselves hated it.)
© David Shaugnessy
Walking round the exhibition last weekend, it struck me that David has selected the perfect location for his show. For those unfamiliar with the locality, Hackney Wick is a kind of giant guinea pig cage for hipsters. A stone’s throw from the Olympic Park to the south, and within sight of the looming bulk of Westfield shopping mall, the area offers an environment as fitted to the needs of well-heeled young urbanites as any zoologically engineered habitat. All the key elements are in place: retro-fitted brown field decrepitude, bars and cultural spaces sprouting from light industrial units, towpaths to cycle on, and a sprinkling of riverside new-builds. Anyway, this post is written in haste as Dave’s show ends on Monday: so allow me to suggest that you treat yourselves to a visit to Hackney Wick this weekend. Enjoy the exhibition, drink a craft beer or two and look at the men with funny hair.
East London Song (after Bertolt Brecht & Kurt Weill)
Posted: April 30, 2014 Filed under: Amusements, Class, London Places, London Types | Tags: Alabama Song, Brecht/Weill, Dalston Junction, Jim Morrison, Katy Evans-Bush, Kurt Vile, London Hipsters, Lotte Lenya, nathan barley, stoke newington, Tim Hadrian Marshall Comments Off on East London Song (after Bertolt Brecht & Kurt Weill)
All photos © Tim Marshall 2014.
To the tune of Alabama Song*:
Well, show me the way
to the next hipster bar.
Oh, don’t ask why.
Oh, don’t ask why.
Show me the way
to the next whiskered bard.
Oh, he won’t shave;
oh don’t ask why.
For if we don’t find
the next hipster bar,
in bitcoins we can’t pay;
in Shoreditch we will die.
I tell you, I text you,
I tell you we must die.
Sing me Kurt Vile
in the next hipster bar.
Oh, don’t ask why.
Oh, you know why.
Oh, moon of dear old Hoxton,
We now must say goodbye:
We’ve lost our sense of purpose
And need hipsters to show us why.
Oh, moon of Dalston Junction,
It’s good morning, not goodbye.
We’ve missed our good old night bus,
We need espresso, oh, you know why.
Show me the link
to the best hipster URL,
it will lead the way.
It will lead the way.
Oh, retro moon of London,
How analogue you are!
We lost all our signal,
down in the cellar bar.
Oh, moon of old Stoke Newington,
We ne’er must say goodbye.
You shine on our old-style Instagrams;
We need filters, don’t ask why.
The moon shines over Clapton
and we now must say goodbye.
Some of us live in Walthamstow`
(though others would rather die).
Well, show me the way
to the next lo-fi bar.
The wood’s all ply,
the wood’s all ply.
For if we don’t find
a plaid-shirted earl
I tell you we must lie,
and tell them it’s this guy.
They’ll trust you. I’ll text you.
I tell you we must lie.
Show me the place
where the real hipsters are.
They don’t ask why,
they don’t care why.
Oh, moon of Lea Bridge Roundabout
Like bunting in the sky:
We’ve lost our good old Rastas,
And must have hipsters, oh, who knows why.
* Bertolt Brecht reworked by Katy Evans Bush for The London Column. The photos are from Timothy Hadrian Marshall’s series King’s Cross Stories.
The London Column 