Oblivious

First time back in London in many years. You may be forgiven for thinking I'd want to get my fill of museums and shopping. Well I did. Thing is, I've always found street life more compelling, especially its greasy underbelly. Particularly if the street is just off Brick Lane, where we went in search of yet another curry. [Four curry meals in 6 days ain't bad, if you love the cooking of the Indian subcontinent as much as I do. Two of them were excellent, one was very good, one was disappointing. I felt that going for a fifth might be pushing my luck with T.]

I LOVE street art and look for it everywhere I go. I like its playfulness, its lack of pretense and the powerful messages it often contains. I like its attitude, its sense of community and its transitory nature. There's so much beauty on the street that's free to everyone. We mainly ignore it because its creators are anonymous, or because some famous art critic hasn't urged us to go to some gallery or museum to see it.

Everything on this wall spoke to me.
The padlocked door and the wry doodlings on it.
The other door, only partially visible, with a beautiful skeleton painted on it, its head cocked, as if listening to the musicians.
The painted man playing his accordion, and the three figures dancing on his shoulder.
The young child strumming her mandolin, obscured by the passing flesh-and-blood gentleman with his real life oblivion to the busking musicians, even if they were only made of paint. How many of us have walked by buskers and ignored them completely?
The emphatic reminder to listen to music daily because it keeps body and soul healthy - how true!
And, watching over everything - a mother in a a fuschia sari holding her naked baby, a benevolent, bangled Brick Lane madonna and child.


In fact, this blip has just made me think of one of my favourite Joni Mitchell songs, "For Free."


Look closer and have a listen to the song if you have time. You'll see the connection.


~ a backblip ~


Yesterday's.