Monthly Archives: November 2011
A Kingsland road of my mind, Dalston lane, Ball’s Pond, 98 p poundland Dalston discount Aujila pound city Family discount shop, pawnbrokers and solicitors, Ladbrokes, afro hairdressers 24/7, Flowers Forever. Vanished foundation of farms Deorlaf’s tun, shadow of the Dalston theatre, Robert Fossett’s Circus watching the elephants from the smoking room, than the Dalston theatre of varieties, dames with flamboyant hats on carriages and sunday evenings laughs, than the magic of the black and white in black and gold halls “the greatest cinema in the British Empire if not the world”, than television killed the big screen’s stars, the 60s were swinging and the black music thriving: Desmond Decker, Jimmy Cliff, Bob Marley at The Macador, the Rambling Rose and The Four Aces clubs, rocksteady and R&B, than the Labyrinth, “happy hardcore club” the honeymoon with the extacy, 90s drum & bass, strobo light and the last summer of love and hate, debauchery down the corridors.
Now the Dalston theatre is gone for flats. From soulful to soulless thanks to Hackney Council that made the deal, grey burocrats in navy suits offshore companies and digits on screens. The building was to be listed, so they removed the roof, heritage left to soake in rain. Then the building was too damaged to be listed. Flattered to create 300 flats too expensive to live in, wallet’s progress, same old story. And to match them, a brand new shopping centre, anonymous and unavoidable.
choice is yours (?)
this was the Labrynth
“Legacy in the dust” This is the trailer of a documentary about the Four Aces, too bad it is almost impossible to find
Thanks to OPeNdalston for all the efforts made trying to save the Dalston theatre
Another casual experiment, this time I’ve mixed all the rolls of film and while I was cooking the C-41 to 100 F my wife loaded the reel with a tri-x instead of a fuji CN 400. We realized it only when the film came out from the reel almost transparent. My first thought: never use C-41 dev for 20+ rolls of expired film. Then I checked the strip: Tri-x.
I still cannot understand how an image is actually there, the Blix should have washed all the silverand since there should’nt be any dye in the film the strip should be blank. Instead I have this image almost transparent but still visible, the frames have bad scratches ( B/w film is supposed to be dev at 20 C, not 40 C with the wrong chems, shacked, bleached and handled with rage ) but I suppose we’ve been lucky.
I think that the bleaching process was just not strong enough to remove all the silver from the film
and Don’t try this at home
Event Horizon: In general relativity an event horizon is a boundary in spacetime beyond which events cannot affect an outside observer. In Layman’s terms it is defined as “the point of no return” i.e. the point at which the gravitational pull becomes so great as to make escape impossible. Light emitted from beyond the horizon can never reach the observer. Likewise, any object approaching the horizon from the observer’s side appears to slow down and never quite pass through the horizon
This morning I had a look at my old pictures of the city. The ones I first made when I came in London one year ago. Digital crap shot with an old DSLR camera, point and shoot at random things, infinite series of buildings, shops, people waiting for the bus, blurred evening streets. These pictures tell me now more about myself one year ago than about the place where I actually was, once I read that the artist always make his own portrait, and that is true with photography as well. While you are travelling outside, you are travelling into your heart of darkness at the same time. It was that naif way of shooting picture, with no attention for any formal element, balance or cropping of the image, I took pictures of everything that took my attention, from the bus, in the underground, on my way to work. It was a kind of way of making sense of something to big for you to digest in one shot, a way of constructing my own London AZ of images of rundown estates, narrow passageways, busy streets, 24hours shops, an atlas of everyday faces and everyday places. I was not shooting monuments or in the search of beauty, I can now say that I was just tryin to hit the surface of the city,
. I remembed many places because “I took a picture of it”: too lazy to go out in the morning, in the afternoon I used to jump on a doubledecker and sit on the first floor, takin pictures of everything, collections of blurred and senseless things formed trips in what for me was No man’s land. Eventually it helped me a lot to make sense of my surroundings, the only idea of making photos gives you a different point of view, an attention for the smallest details, something outside the daily perception: it took me 3 months to notice my name on the bins ona street that’s on my way to work.
Everybody links photography to memory but the camera is a device that freeze the outside world as well as an inside horizon, composed by your own sensibility and awareness, your goals and interests, the choice (or not-choice) of format, cropping, film etc. Even a camera can give but a subjective view of the outside world, your selfportrait is always there.