Brasil is art, now that is a bold statement. I suppose because art is inherently subjective, but it’s true. Everywhere you look, you can see art: on the streets, in the leaves, in people’s faces and of course, in exhibitions which legitimise and promote certain artistic expressions. This post explores art through the themes of religion, nature, exhibitions and people.
Brasil is epic in size and equally as impressive and at times overwhelming in its biodiversity. You have to remember, I come from a tiny island called England, that although incredibly beautiful, is petite in comparison.
It had been an eternity since the last adventure into my home city where I randomly select a tube station and uncover an unknown part of London. Yesterday I awoke filled with the joys of having control over my time again. I have recently joined the world of conventionality, no longer working from home and instead arising daily at 6:41am before setting off to a school in Harrow where I now teach. It is half term now, and the world is once again my oyster.
I decided to head to Blackhorse Road on the Victoria Line in E17, Zone 3, after a photography course along the Embankment. The sun was shining, nourishing the soul and shedding light on the city’s wealth of possibilities. Selfie sticks abound as tourists soaked in the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament and other well-known sites that have somehow lost a little of their majesty on having seen them so often. My mood on embarking the tube had shifted from the whistling and humming of nameless melodies in the morning to a sinking and emptiness that began to consume me. I was hungry, which is never a good thing as it usually entails a grumpiness and total lack of perspective until I’ve replenished my energy levels. Continue reading →
I awoke in the morning with a cumbersome sense of sadness and despair. I’d been dreaming of a massacre of what at first I thought were some of the world’s political leaders. They were being piled up to be killed. Just as I awoke, I realised that in fact they were the cast of EastEnders. Distraught, I followed my usual morning routine of preparing a mason jar of ginger, lemon, honey and cider vinegar and wiled away some time on Facebook. Scrolling down the page on my laptop my heart would lurch from joy to sadness as images of beauty and pain all seemed to merge into one. Continue reading →
This is the second instalment in a series entitled Uncover London in which I ditch travelling with a passport and backpack, and delve into the city’s hidden gems. The first place I explored, Island Gardens, was chosen at random from the underground map, and was selected based on its exotic and enticing name. This post is about my trip to Boston Manor, an area a dear friend and I passed through en route from Heathrow Airport. We were returning from an extremely colourful non-conventional wedding in Poland. My friend had been sat next to a ridiculously handsome man on the plane, with whom we continued our journey back into London on the tube. As we trundled through Boston Manor, I decided aloud that this would be the next location that I’d rove. The handsome man exclaimed that Boston Manor was “really boring,” and “apart from a dull high street, there was absolutely nothing to see.” That consolidated my choice, motivating me to counter his subjective observations by seeking to find beauty in banality.
One day, whilst sitting alone together with hundreds of nameless commuters on a tube heading somewhere, I lost myself in the map of coloured lines. I’d been back in England for a few months, and was daydreaming about the freedom of travelling with a backpack, camera and endless time. As I scanned the various train’s paths, it dawned on me I needn’t venture too far for my next trip as London was brimming with the unknown. I’d heard a plethora of names over the tannoy for years, but had never thought of visiting these places. I decided I would explore the city that I lived in without a cumbersome backpack and passport but with the same intrigue and desire.