Category Archives: UK

p h o t o s : occupying the new krankenhouse (ii 2010)

[ 23:13 thursday 7 october – haggerston road ]

following on from my previous post, the breakthrough in the krankenhouse’s search for a new building came with word that another group was planning to take over an abandoned courier warehouse in bermondsey for one night for a party. the krankenhouse group had been told that if they wanted to stay on afterwards and try to occupy the building they were welcome to do so. it sounded like the space was enormous, big enough to accommodate everyone from the group.

i arrived at the new space around 3am the night of the opening party with bertrand and a couple of other friends. the space was even bigger than i imagined, two vast open sheds with a two-storey office block attached on one side. by the time we arrived the police had already paid a visit and shut down the largest of the three sound systems. but the remaining two provided ample entertainment for the rest of the night. i cycled home at dawn.

as the party wound down a group of half a dozen krankenhousers established themselves with sleeping bags, water, an electric heater and canned food in one of the smaller rooms of the office block. i visited whenever i had a chance over the subsequent two weeks. the group’s primary objectives were to fend off any attempt by the building’s owner to regain possession of the building or any attempt by a rival group of squatter to displace them. just a few days after the party in the early hours of the morning an alarm was raised that some people were trying to break down one of the doors with a battering ram. the group rushed to defend the door and after a short skirmish they prevailed. that was the only serious attempt to disrupt the occupation.

on the day the crouch end building was evicted a steady convoy of refugees arrived at the new building with their belongings. by evening the floor of one of the sheds was covered with a patchwork of furniture, audio equipment, juggling kit and assorted bric a brac. for a few days people slept wherever they felt like throughout the office block but gradually pressure grew for a permanent allocation of rooms.

a couple of squat meetings were called where it was expected the question of rooms would be decided but each time it was put off. finally a day came when it couldn’t be avoided any longer. there was still a reluctance to broach such a contentious question but in the end one of the girls  grasped the nettle and posed the question of how the allocation should be decided. several suggestions were made but it was rapidly agreed that the whole group should walk round the building looking at all the available rooms and people should put their names against a maximum of three rooms each. wherever a claim was uncontested the room would be allotted straight away. where claims were contested people would negotiate room by room until everyone had been assigned a place.

determining who gets which part of the building is the primary resource allocation question for any new squat. it’s an extremely complex problem and must be settled by a strong consensus if the squat is to be harmonious. if anyone feels resentful at the result or regards the process as unfair it can store up trouble for the whole community. as an ethnographer, and particularly as one with an insatiable interest in emergent collective decision-making, it was a great privilege to be permitted to be with the group during the process when this was decided.

it took an hour and a half for the group to make its way around the building, stopping at each room and discussing its pros and cons, then listing the people who wanted to make a bid for it. in some of the larger rooms various possibilities for sub-division were floated and a consensus needed to be reached on this before people could bid on parts of the space. there were a couple of heated moments when individuals sought to make a case that they had a particular right to a room they liked but otherwise the process was good-natured and slightly chaotic. the same girl who’d started the discussion took responsibility for making the list of rooms and bids. she also subtly defused the moments of aggro that cropped up. as the tour progressed i grew more and more impressed by her gentle shaping of the process.

after all the rooms had been inspected, all the sub-divisions had been agreed and everyone had put their names down against the rooms they wanted the group returned to the common room downstairs. with pleasing continuity this was the same room the advance group had lived in during the first weeks of occupation. people got themselves beers, settled down and the allocation process commenced. first the easy ones were apportioned, where only one person had made a bid. then the slightly trickier ones with two or three bidders. gradually the complexity increased and the trade-offs involved more steps. after a couple of hours i had to leave but i understand the process was still continuing two hours later. in the end only two people out of twenty-five felt unhappy with their lot, an amazing result from a process based entirely on consensus where there was no possibility for any person to impose a decision on anyone else. i think this experience did more to reaffirm my belief in democracy than anything i’ve witnessed before or since.

it was a joy seeing the community take root in the new space. such a huge blank canvas unleashed a surge of creativity and excitement in the group. by the end of march a bicycle stunt park had been constructed in one shed, a bar and lounge had been created from a twenty-five foot river boat in the other, the walls were decorated with artwork and smart graffiti. there were a couple of magical parties.

but the writing was already on the wall, hopes that agreement could be reached with the owner permitting the group to remain had come to nothing. it was clear eviction would come within a month and the tribe would have to move again.

slideshow and thumbnails below. the album is also on flickr.

: c :

 

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p h o t o s : last days of krankenhouse (ii 2010)

[ 23:32 tuesday 5 october – haggerston road ]

after ten years as a squat the krankenhouse was finally evicted in february 2010. there had been several stays of execution. the occupiers had even reached an agreement with the landlord  to stay several months longer in return for going quietly when the time came. however shortly after making this agreement a boy from a local estate injured himself on one of the fences outside the property and brought a claim against the community, forcing them to leave immediately. whether rightly or wrong, the community rapidly concluded the owner had arranged the whole incident, offering a suitable reward for the boy if he were to hurt himself in this way.

it was fascinating to observe the developments in the community once the writing was on the wall. whilst the squat was a going concern a myriad rivalries and resentments had been suppressed. without the motive to keep them in check all those forces surfaced with vigour. before my eyes the group began to splinter into factions. there were some who remained committed to keeping the community together and finding a new building large enough to house them. this is no mean feat in london, where there are fewer than half a dozen squats exceeding twenty permanent residents. but many people viewed it as inevitable that the group would have to break up into several smaller units.

the critical test for any squat as it approaches eviction is whether the community can maintain the discipline required to organise reconnaissance parties to scout for new potential homes, “opening” the most promising ones then “sitting” the most viable one. this final part involves a small group of five or six people staying in the opened building twenty-four hours a day with someone permanently on watch ready to raise the alarm should anyone try to invade the building so the group can mobilise to defend it.

at first it looked unlikely the group would get its act together to do this. but in the final weeks something changed and those who wanted to keep the community together gained enough support to start the process in earnest. with barely a week to go a new space, an abandoned courier warehouse in bermondsey, was found and occupied.

the photos show bertrand’s and tails’ rooms plus some of the main shared spaces in the krankenhouse as everything was dismantled and carried out to a convoy of ramshackle vans, themselves a staple of squat life.

: c :

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p h o t o s : london xii 2009 – v 2010

[ 23:41 monday 27 september – haggerston road ]

here are forty-six photos from london spanning december of last year to may of this year. the set includes bertrand’s arrival and his establishment of a sewing workshop in the shed on my roof, various friends passing through london, life around dalston and the passing seasons as reflected in changing flora on the roof.

slideshow and thumbnails below. annotated copies on flickr.

: c :

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v i d e o : scrapclub

[ 21:05 monday 27 september – haggerston road ]

back in february bertrand and i attended scrapclub, an occasional party where guests are offered the opportunity to destroy domestic appliances, laboratory equipment, furniture and a variety of other merchandise with sledge-hammers and steel bars. the event operated on the following cycle: the organisers laid out a selection of items, pulled the names of a dozen guests out of a hat, provided these guests with goggles and hard hats, gave the cue for them to set about destroying the objects, swept up the debris once it had all been smashed to smithereens, then started laying out a new selection of objects. all the while there were djs playing noise music. it was rather exhilarating.

here’s my video from the event.

: c :

p h o t o s : simmonds yat

[ 22:39 wednesday 2 june – haggerston road ]

on christmas day i went walking with mum and dad in the forest of dean. here’s what i wrote at the time:

this afternoon we went out walking in the forest of dean. everything was crusted in snow. a deep, timeless silence hung amongst the trees disturbed only by the crunch of our feet on the icy ground. the river wye was in full flood, winding around the limestone cliffs of symonds yat and churning tirelessly over the shallows. the sun hung low above the horizon and sent fingers of gold piercing the mist between the boughs. we got lost and ended up walking rather further than we intended. it was breathtakingly beautiful. i took photographs with a sense of wide-eyed wonder.

now, five months later, i’ve uploaded eleven of the photos. you can see them all here.

: c :

p h o t o s : may to november 2009

[ 00:55 monday 8 february – haggerston road ]

in the last nine months i’ve accumulated an intimidating backlog of slides waiting to be scanned and uploaded. in an effort to catch up here are four sets comprising seventy-six pictures:

volker’s barge, clapton to limehouse (v 2009) : 15 pictures
last visit to granny’s house (v 2009) : 14 pictures
fundacja techsoup, warsaw (v & xi 2009) : 9 pictures
london (v-xi 2009) : 38 pictures

one picture from each set posted below.
: c :

r i v e r b o r n e

[ 18:56 sunday 2 august – river stort, roydon, essex ]

sitting in the saloon of volker’s barge as the evening sun filters through the trees and sparkles on the river outside. it’s an old dutch barge to which a superstructure was added in the seventies. there’s lots of light and space. most of the time volker lives on a mooring at springfield marina on the river lea at clapton in east london. when he gets sick of london he just unties and takes the boat somewhere else for a week or two. in the nineteenth century railways were often built close to the routes of canals constucted in the eighteenth century. as a result it’s generally possible for volker to moor close to a station and commute back to london for his work lecturing at university college london. it’s an excellent way to accommodate elements of nomadism within the vicissitudes of urban life.

yesterday afternoon i took a train through the grimy north london suburbs and out to cheshunt in hertfordshire. from there a short bike ride brought me to the river and volker’s boat. we chugged upriver for the next few hours. the leaden sky became progressively heavier and heavier as we went. finally they opened and unleashed a downpour. volker sprang out on the foredeck and scrubbed it down in the rain, getting soaked in the process. i always loved to be by water in the rain.

near hoddesdon we turned onto the river stort which quickly became narrower and wilder. many of britain’s rivers were canalised in the late eighteenth century. in some cases the natural character of the river survives more or less intact. in others the imposition of man was more intense and the river feels like an artificial creation. we went a little way then moored under some trees. then we walked a little way to a secluded lake where we stripped and swam. it was bliss.

this morning we continued up to roydon in essex until a modern railway bridge thwarted us. the coach-house roof was just a couple of centimetres too high to pass beneath. we considered inviting some plump fellows from a pub to clamber aboard or opening the cocks and letting water into the bilge to lower the boat so we could pass beneath. but finally we admitted defeat, moored by the railway station and continued our exploration by bike. by this time the sky had cleared and the sun was shining so it was a pleasure to unhitch our bikes from the taffrail and set off across the fields.

we just returned to the boat and opened a couple of peronis. later this evening i’ll get the train back to london.

this trip marks my first outing with a new solid state video camera i had shipped from tokyo. it’s been interesting to use it in parallel with my stills camera. it will take a while for me to develop habits and style with it but already i find myself starting to parse subjects for still or moving capture. it will be interesting to see the results back in london.

: c :

l a s t j o u r n e y

[ 17:33 monday 5 may – ludlow railway station, ludlow, shropshire ]

it never occurred to me that ludlow’s three taxi firms would close down for today’s bank holiday. my nomadic habits pay off at times like this. i’ve got got hiking boots and i’m carrying all my stuff in two rucksacks so it was no sweat to walk the mile and a half from bear and david’s house in steventon to the station. it would have been a different story if i’d been traveling with a wheely case and brogues.

the last four days with granny have been incredibly intense. that was no great surprise. what i didn’t expect was how beautiful the experience would be. it’s as though we’re traveling a supremely difficult journey together, taking us to places neither of us has ever been before. her impending death has created a situation where we interact in ways that would be impossible under other circumstances.

granny celebrated her ninety-second birthday a little over two weeks ago. since i was in san francisco and unable to be there i sent a cd to my parents on which i played six of bach’s goldberg variations and recorded a happy birthday message. granny had a happy day and was delighted with my disembodied offering. then the next day she got a blood clot in her right leg that stopped the blood from reaching her foot. she was rushed to shrewsbury hospital where they operated to try and remove the clot but the operation failed. at that point there were three options: arterial rerouting, amputation of the leg or allowing her to die from gangrene. the first and second options were judged impossible. granny was moved to a private room in ludlow’s small hospital and the family started preparing its goodbyes.

on friday evening i sat by her bed watching her face in the golden light of the setting sun. she was terribly emaciated, her skin translucent and crumpled like parchment wrapped loosely around her bones. i clasped her hand and stroked her hair while we talked. there were tears running down my face the whole time i was there. occasionally my voice faltered. neither of us made comment of this. the tears carried on when i cycled back to bear and david’s and for a good while after i arrived there.

since then i’ve cried very little. each day i sit at granny’s side talking with her, helping her when she wants a drink, holding her hand and watching quietly when she sleeps. the peak of the experience came yesterday evening. granny was extremely lucid. i said “each of us has a time to die. i’m going to be very honest. i think this is your time. you need to start preparing yourself”. she said “what do i have to do i prepare?”. i said “i don’t know. only you can find the answer inside yourself”. i asked if she would prefer to be at home to die and she replied “of course i would!”. i explained it wouldn’t be the same as when she was at home before; she’d still be stuck in a bed and needing a lot of medical attention, plus the move itself might be very painful, but she was determined she wanted to go home. i said i thought each of us had guardian angels looking over us and she said she believed that too. i asked her to be my guardian angel and help me achieve all the things i wanted to do with my life. she said she wished grandpa was still alive as there were still things she wanted to say to him. i told her if she said those things in her mind he would hear her. then she said “let’s not be gloomy!” and the conversation moved onto other things.

today she slept most of the time i was there, clutching my hand all the while. i asked if she remembered our conversation from yesterday and she said “some of it”. i didn’t press her. i travel back to london now feeling light-hearted and full of love for her. i will be back at her side next weekend but i may find her much changed. as the gangrene progresses the doses of morphine will be increased and gradually she will become less lucid. the point will come when she is longer there. sometime later her body will cease functioning. i will miss her dreadfully but we have shared something precious in these last flickering moments of her life.

: c :

t r a i n c h a o s

[ 14:13 sunday 7 october – first capital connect train, streatham to luton airport ]

my elaborate web of connections across italy, spain and morocco went off without a hitch. today’s journey from london to budapest has made up for all that. my flight departed from gatwick an hour ago and i was not on board. i arrived at london bridge station three hours ago with plenty of time in hand for my train. but the moment i set foot on the platform a twenty minute delay was announced. then ten minutes later the train was cancelled. this was irritating but the next train would still get me to the airport in time. however after twenty minutes this service too was cancelled. at this point i started to feel at little anxious. a rumour went round that someone had committed suicide at purley and services across south london were in chaos. there were no announcements about the situation but it wasn’t looking promising.

together with three other passengers i set off in a taxi for gatwick. but driving from london bridge to gatwick takes half an hour longer than the train and speaking to the driver as we sped south it became clear the likelihood of me getting there in time was slim. i called kaz and rebecca who generously interrupted their sundays to assist me. in minutes rebecca had booked a flight from luton to budapest which departs at five o’clock. yipee! i asked the driver to drop me off and bid farewell to the other passengers. the cab dropped me in front of streatham hill station but that had no useful services so i walked the half mile to streatham, studied the routings and decided my best bet was to take this train. it follows an improbable route from here heading south then westward through tooting and wimbledon, then north and eastward through bermondsey to london bridge before turning north-west through king’s cross thameslink and continuing to luton. the train is half an hour late but it’s running and i expect to reach luton airport with plenty of time to spare for my flight.

i’m going to budapest for three days for the etre conference, a gathering of influential venture capitalists and technology moguls. i’m due to give a talk tomorrow afternoon. as soon i’ve checked into my hotel and found some supper i ought to start working on my presentation. rebecca mailed the briefing notes to my house so they were there to pick up when i arrived last night.

looking back to the last forty-eight hours, the thirteen-hour bus journey from ouazazate to tangier was far less arduous than i feared, largely because it was half empty. andrew, cristina and i arrived in tangier at eleven, fantasising about coffee and pastries, only to discover that all the cafes were shut for ramadan. so we got straight into a taxi for the two-hour journey along the coast to the spanish colony of ceuta where we were finally able to satisfy our cravings. after that we went for a swim and spent the afternoon vegetating blissfully on the beach. to enter ceuta from morocco one passes through a proper old-fashioned frontier with border guards, check- points, barbed wire and a stretch of no-man’s-land in the middle. it projects a powerful sense of crossing from one world into another. in the evening we united with some of cristina’s journalist friends. after an orientational stroll around the town we dined on intriguing spanish-moroccan hybrid tapas then moved to an irish pub which seems to be the hub of the ceutan journalism community. i didn’t miss alcohol during the week in morocco but the first cold beer did taste good (as did the second, third..).

the spanish coast is clearly visible across the mediterranean sea from ceuta and the next day i said goodbye to andrew and cristina after our journey together and got on a ship for the hour-long trip to algeciras on the other side. from there i took a bus round the bay to la linea then walked over the frontier into gibralter. the contrast was much less dramatic than the morocco/ceuto border but it was surreal suddenly to enter a domain peppered with british symbols like gilbert scott’s red telephone boxes and double decker buses. gibralter felt simultaneously nostalgic and a tiny bit seedy, an echo of a world where such impositions were common-place. after checking in at the airport (the first i’ve encountered where a main road crosses the middle of the runway) i picked my way behind a row of sheds and found a dirtly little beach facing algericas and the afternoon sun. a couple of english families were set up, with the children playing in the shallows. i propped a broken chair against a concrete wall and sat there sunbathing for a last luxurious half- hour. then i walked back to the terminal and got on my way. the flight back from gibralter was uneventful. next stop budapest.

: c :

g r e e n m a n

[ 02:30 monday 21 august – glenusk estate, gwent, wales ]

it’s the final night of the green man festival, here in the welsh hills. after three days gorging ourselves on music the crowd of three thousand has distilled down to the forty-odd people crammed into this yurt. almost everyone is playing a percussion instrument of some kind, in most cases bottles or jars. for the last half hour i’ve been hammering a big metal olive oil canister. i shall probably remember this as the high point of the festival. there’s a sense of exhuberence and fellowship. for the first time we’re producing something together rather than consuming it.

in 1999 i played at camel rock in the isles scilly. then in 2004 i spent a couple of hours at womad. but this has been my first fully fledged experience of a music festival. i took the train to abergavenny with jan and luke on monday morning, from where we took a taxi up to the festival site. we pitched our tents under a big oak tree and we’ve been here since then.

there are three music stages and several other venues. the music covers a wide spectrum but most of it is evolved from some kind of folk tradition. the highlights for me have been gruff rhys (all but two of whose songs were in welsh), a band called “nalle” which sounded like icelandic music from outer space, and a duo from new mexico playing accordian and violin.

the music has been quite euro-american focused and the crowd is distinctly middle class. personally i’d have enjoyed more asian, african and south american ingredients. but i don’t want to carp, i’ve loved it all.

: c :