Researching last night's dream, I discovered the following:
"The pattern of gentrification is typically known as the 'SoHo Effect' and has been observed in several cities around the United States. A backwater of poor artists and small factories in the 1970s, SoHo became a popular tourist destination for people looking for fashionable (and expensive) clothing and exquisite architecture. This has been frowned upon by many people now living in SoHo."
In a bizarre twist, further research has led me to this item in the New York Times:
"Mr. Deitch [owner of famous SoHo-based Deitch Projects Gallery] said he was stunned by the police action. ''This is unprecedented,'' Mr. Deitch said. ''I have never, never in my experience known artists to be arrested while they're putting up a serious museum exhibition in a leading gallery.'' Mishka
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Stoke Dream #2
As our work in Stoke gathers pace, I've noticed that the place and its landscapes have started to occupy my dreams. I've had two of them now, the second last night and the first ten days ago. After the first one, I wondered if I should include these dreams on the blog or not, and whether it had any significance to the project. Now the second one has come, I think I should and have back-dated the first one on this blog to the date it appeared. What follows is last night's dream:
"I'm at a warehouse party in Stoke, overlooking a busy street filled with bars and cafes that wouldn't be out of place in New York's SoHo district. At the party, a sudden army of graffitti artists passes through the space we're in and head out in an impressive regimented silence. They ask us not to draw attention to them and from that, we allude they've been working on something outside, maybe on the exterior of the building we're in. Slightly drunk and keen to show my allegiance to them, I stand up and shout "we're with you" which is followed by an awkward silence. As they leave the building, someone shouts that they've been caught. We rush to the windows and see that police dressed in riot gear are raiding the cafe these artists have wandered into. Angry, we all head for the roof with tennis rackets and balls and start hitting the balls at the police as they bundle the artists into police vans."
"I'm at a warehouse party in Stoke, overlooking a busy street filled with bars and cafes that wouldn't be out of place in New York's SoHo district. At the party, a sudden army of graffitti artists passes through the space we're in and head out in an impressive regimented silence. They ask us not to draw attention to them and from that, we allude they've been working on something outside, maybe on the exterior of the building we're in. Slightly drunk and keen to show my allegiance to them, I stand up and shout "we're with you" which is followed by an awkward silence. As they leave the building, someone shouts that they've been caught. We rush to the windows and see that police dressed in riot gear are raiding the cafe these artists have wandered into. Angry, we all head for the roof with tennis rackets and balls and start hitting the balls at the police as they bundle the artists into police vans."
Monday, 28 January 2008
Reviving the old buoyant communities of folk memory
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"Many of those fighting to keep a heart beating in the old communities believe that a nation which once gratefully took the coal, steel, textiles and ships they produced owe them something else. Self-help can only go so far. But it is living, enduring industry, they say, which sustains living, enduring communities." From an interesting (if a little dated) article found here.
Monday, 21 January 2008
Stoke Dream #1
This dream is back-dated, insofar as when I first had it I wasn't sure if it ought to be included on the blog or not. With the second Stoke dream arriving last night, it was time to include it.
"I'm in a car, heading into a brand-new estate of new-builds looking for my friend Jason. The problem is I've got three friends called Jason and they all live somewhere on this estate. I drive over cobbled speed-bumps, anxiously trying to recognize one of the squares I'm sure Jason lives on. Although I've been here before, the squares all look the same and none has attached itself in my memory to each of the Jasons I know. I'm running late now and get out of the car and go on foot, thinking this will speed up the search. The regimented houses have small paths in front of them that run the length of the facades. I'm walking along one when another friend Simon and his wife spot me from one of the windows. I haven't seen Simon for years and they come to their door to greet me and let me in. Simon is a best-friend from school, someone I used to be very close to. Feeling obliged to enter his house, I soon find myself in his small bedroom on a laptop, doing a Google search for Jason. That's when I notice his younger brother also in the room, lost amongst a drum kit in one corner of the room. Simon and I don't have much to talk about, so he shows me a tune he's learnt to play on his new piano - his latest hobby. I don't recognize the music - it seems jumbled to me, a bit of a mess - but out of politeness I smile and tell him it's nice, that he's got talent. We don't really talk much and I carry on googling, though get distracted by typing in Jason Streatham and ending up on a modelling website for Russian girls. Simon comes back into the room and tells me he knows Jason, though with further description, I realize it's not the same Jason I know. He points me in the direction of his friend Jason's house, towards an equally non-descript housing development across a strip of fluorescent grass. Keen to leave, I head towards it knowing it's not the right Jason, but too resigned to look elsewhere."
The relationship between these dreams and the photographs makes me wonder which comes first? The images or the dreams? The place or the identity? Mishka
"I'm in a car, heading into a brand-new estate of new-builds looking for my friend Jason. The problem is I've got three friends called Jason and they all live somewhere on this estate. I drive over cobbled speed-bumps, anxiously trying to recognize one of the squares I'm sure Jason lives on. Although I've been here before, the squares all look the same and none has attached itself in my memory to each of the Jasons I know. I'm running late now and get out of the car and go on foot, thinking this will speed up the search. The regimented houses have small paths in front of them that run the length of the facades. I'm walking along one when another friend Simon and his wife spot me from one of the windows. I haven't seen Simon for years and they come to their door to greet me and let me in. Simon is a best-friend from school, someone I used to be very close to. Feeling obliged to enter his house, I soon find myself in his small bedroom on a laptop, doing a Google search for Jason. That's when I notice his younger brother also in the room, lost amongst a drum kit in one corner of the room. Simon and I don't have much to talk about, so he shows me a tune he's learnt to play on his new piano - his latest hobby. I don't recognize the music - it seems jumbled to me, a bit of a mess - but out of politeness I smile and tell him it's nice, that he's got talent. We don't really talk much and I carry on googling, though get distracted by typing in Jason Streatham and ending up on a modelling website for Russian girls. Simon comes back into the room and tells me he knows Jason, though with further description, I realize it's not the same Jason I know. He points me in the direction of his friend Jason's house, towards an equally non-descript housing development across a strip of fluorescent grass. Keen to leave, I head towards it knowing it's not the right Jason, but too resigned to look elsewhere."
The relationship between these dreams and the photographs makes me wonder which comes first? The images or the dreams? The place or the identity? Mishka
Sunday, 20 January 2008
There's No Place Like Home
Interviews with the cast of the New Vic Theatre's production of the Wizard of Oz, which ran from the 26 November 2007 until the 19 January 2008. More information about the production here.
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"I'm from Fife in Scotland. Stoke is very, very grey and dull and not magical like the Emerald City. The Emerald City is very green and 'wow' and Stoke is very grey and rubbish. I've been living in someone else's house here, I'm used to living in London so it's quite different, it's very quiet."
"I'm based in London but originally from Yorkshire. When I first came here I was really confused because I expected one big city, but there are about five or six separate towns and potteries." How is it different to the Emerald City? "Well, you don't see many lions and tin men running around here."
"There's lots of things to do here, everyone's really happy. I've seen a lot of films here - I've seen everything going - you can ask me any question about a film. From the outset, it's a little bit dull here but once you go round the potteries and you see all these amazing potteries and stuff, you realize it's got a lot going for it. It's not as hip and happening as London but that's the way the cookie crumbles."
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"I've been working here for two and a half months, I like working here because the theater is incredible. We haven't got out much, it's very quiet here, everything seems to close by about 8 o'clock. You know you're in Stoke because of the monkey forest. It's a facility run by monkeys for monkeys. It's about 2 miles out, I really enjoyed that. You've got a lot of countryside around but I've been here in the winter so it's quite dreary, and wet. You don't see nearly as much dancing in the streets as you do in the Emerald City and you have a lot more Thai restaurants in Newcastle and a lot more hairdressers too."
Roger Brown - Visual Ethnographer
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If you said to me go anywhere I would go to Papua New Guinea. I've been fascinated by places like that ever since I was young when I used to read about Captain Cook and his travelers tales and exploits. That kind of thing is very romantic. The advantage I've got here is I speak the language, I've lived here for 25 years, I feel as though I already know a lot about Stoke-on-Trent. But the core problems for anthropologists are essentially the same, finding the right people to talk to, finding the gatekeepers."
Wednesday, 16 January 2008
Wrestlers at Ravenside Retail Park
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Would you say it was an art?
"It is - you can express yourself in a weird way. Other people see it as mindless violence. I've always loved drama, I used to want to get into stunt work and I found the best way to do it was through wrestling. I can act and I can do my stunt work at the same time and have fun with it." Dave, 23. Doorman (above).
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