Sarah the Sad Staircase

This is the staircase in Bethnal Green tube station to exit up on to the Roman Road, an image I took whilst out visiting the Swedes near Victoria Park. The two locations have a dark connection, that I'd imagine most casual visitors to the station, and the staircase, are probably blissfully unaware of.



"On the 3rd of March 1943, an air-raid Civil Defence siren sounded at 8:17 pm, causing an orderly flow of people down the short flight of steps at the Roman Rd entrance into the underground booking office area. At 8:27, an anti-aircraft battery a few hundred yards away in Victoria Park launched a salvo of a new type of anti-aircraft rocket. The weapon was secret, and the unexpected, unfamiliar, type of explosion caused a panic. As the crowd surged forward towards the shelter, a woman, possibly carrying a baby, tripped on the stairs, causing many others to fall. Within a few seconds 300 people were crushed into the tiny stairwell. 172 people were dead at the scene, with one more dying in hospital later; 62 of the dead were children"

Because of war-time censorship and the potential moral-destroying consequences of the incident, particularly in one of the worst bombed neighbourhoods in London, news of the disaster was quashed- a quietness that seems to have lasted into the 21st century. Only a tiny plaque commemorates the largest loss of civilian life in the UK during the second world war.

I always get a shiver when I walk up the steps.

Time Out!

Wee! One of my photos got into Time Out to promote White Wedding, which while not earth shattering news, worthy of note in these cruel times. OH! WINTER OF MY DISCONTENT!

Have a looksie....



The clubnight seems to be rolling along quite nicely- we got quite a bit of press this week, and last night I spied a host of undercover journalists whispering surreptitiously into mini-microphones while gripping Beckys wedding cake in the other hand. AND having been asked to play at a venue in France, I might actually get a trip abroad from role of official Wedding Photographer!!



I dragged myself out of bed Sunday morning and went to meet the lovely Matt for breakfast, poached eggs and cappuccino, nice! I always get such a wonderful feeling the morning after a hard nights work... you've earnt a little money, and are briefly excused from responsibility and guilt (i'm quite the catholic in this regard I'm starting to believe)

This wonderful feeling didnt last however, as I had to run home and work- me and Ste poured our hearts and souls into two treatments due at nine this morning...queue maniacal laughter/tears at 5.30 this morning as we were still hours from finishing.

It's such a funny thing when you work through a night unwillingly- first comes defiance, then anger, then denial, and finally acceptance. And once you accept it, even as horribly unnatural as it might first appear to feel, it's actually quite nice. Like an altered state of being. Dizzy and delirious, it can be strangely enjoyable. Also who would have thought that Last Fm would make me appreciate Cher so much? Heres a screen grab of the MPHO pitch- " A Warholian Pop-Art tour-de-force with a classic British twist..."



I can't face more rejection! It's too hard!

WHy the Blog?

I have blog paralysis. It's a strange ailement that only takes hold as my fingers swish over a keyboard and the 'publish' button sears out at me.

Stephen and Amy helpfully came up with the synopsis of my neurosis when they casually quipped I was overconcerned with Why? when it comes to my own life and the things I do. Whying aint Doing. Was the gist. I should simply DO more and not always attempt to successfully dissect the driving force behind it and compartmentalise it into little tiny Simon boxes. But I can't help it! I want to REALISE my life. You gotta ask questions! It's not my fault if I'm not good at answering them, I get a hell of alot further then most people.

So..Do I want this to be a list of things I like, a journal of my life, strange and quirky jumblings of things I thought, or all about photowork and video work to try and drum up some more? A bit off it all? Is that interesting? Am I writing it for myself or for other people to read? How would that make a difference to what I wrote?

Meh...maybe they are right. I exhaust myself.

The Bunny & the Sloth

Valentines Day

Well, it's Friday and 5pm so clearly I'm drinking already, however this is not the case for most of the WAH team who are frantically wrapping thorny bunches until their thumbs bleed. Valentines Day is tomorrow and therefore this is the version of the pre-xmas weekend for florists, who make 50% of all their money for the year in the days before Feb the 14th. It's high octane. See Picture.

I don't get the attraction of things that die after 3 days. I have enough disappointment in my life without watching something beautiful die slowly on front of me. If they died like this it might be more fun.




This, I like.

Champagne Shit

Today was a landmark day in my my own cultural landscape. Whilst sneaking around under the oppressive blanket of WAH, in an atmosphere I can imagine is only second to Auschwitz '44, I snuck a glass of Bollinger from the client cupboard and enjoyed crystalline effervescence in the bathroom whilst taking a dump. I can honestly say it was the most decadent, pleasurable experience I have had in a long long while. I highly recommend it.



(I always wear a life jacket in the loo.... It's just a fear I have.)

A post snow, post party comedown left me a little drained in the latter part of the week, so after I worked another day helping a 28yr old american man reshuffle his wardrobe, I spend Thursday lollygagging about town, and met David for a coffee in the annoyingly self aware Nordic Café. (god I wish I were Danish)





He filled me in on bits and pieces from the party I didn't quite remember and a gay old time was had by all.

It was Tibbles Towers on Friday, where the accountant was personally blamed for the credit crunch, and afterwards I went with Richardo to the Tate Modern for a rather boring selection of short films focusing on the British versus Australian experience of landscape. YAWN for most, although one of two managed to retain my attention for the entirety of the clip. Afterwards, we scrummed upstairs in an outwardly & arty polite but in fact quietly vicious way to grab some hors d'ouerves and minute glasses of wine.

Saturday was mainly working on a viral proposal with Ste. We were mostly over-come with the thoughts of potential payment seeing as it was a commercial thing we were pitching for, and we got very business minded, however briefly.



We watched Tommy, which is a cult classic apparently, therefore naturally triggering a crisis of confidence because I had no conscious memory of ever watching it. (I do have vague recollections from childhood of Cousin Kevin- Sadism dressed in leather has a funny way of burning itself onto a gay childs memory.)

Right! Well, I've bought more wine, and I'm going to defer anything else I have to do until tomorrow, it's not as if I have work or anything (scream)