Charity Auction of Greenwich Photo

Local Photographer, Mike Curry, who sent me some astounding pics the other day of the ORNC (if he lets me use them sometime, I'll show them to you...) has had a bit of a lab-accident. They printed the wrong picture for him as a really top quality Perspex/Aluminium work of art.

It's part of a private commission but this particular shot is not what the cusomer ordered. It's a fantastic print, though, too good to waste. Under the terms of his contract Mike can't sell it for profit - so he's auctioning it for Save the Children Fund on Ebay.

It's already reached £41, but there are ten days to go. Happy bidding!

Sign Of The Times

A short break from what's started to turn into 'archaeology week' today (more tomorrow, 'fraid...) to focus on something that's soon to be history.

A few days ago I learned that there is a planning application for the demolition of the Old Friends (10/0331/D1, if you're interested - more details from alex.smith@greenwich.gov.uk.) I understand it was a bit of a surprise as it was generally assumed that planning permission wasn't necessary, but hey - there it is.

The poor old place is in a right state, ever since the scaffolding went up, demolition began then suddenly stopped for no perceivable reason. I can't see that it can be saved now - even if there was a beery knight on a white charger ready to pour cash into a pub that may or may not get custom if the 'New Heart for East Greenwich' ever gets built. It would be nice to think that Woolwich Road could pull its socks up but I'm not holding my spectral breath.

Todya's story is a bit different, though.

I'm not entirely sure what Janet, living at Gravelbourg in Saskatchewan, Canada, was doing reading this blog last week, but, suddenly realising that the Old Friends we were discussing was the same Old Friends where her great grandfather was licenced victualler between 1881 and 1891 and, indeed, the same Old Friends where her grandfather and his five brothers and sisters were born, hurriedly got on the blower to the property management company dealing with the demolition plans.

She's just told me the company is going to save the sign for for her, and it will be crossing the Atlantic Canada-wards. I was particularly interested as only the day before Janet's email arrived I'd wandered past and wondered what would be happening to the sign; I'm glad at least that will be saved, even if it is going abroad. I mean - it's hardly the Madonna of the Pinks...

Janet's been told it's in pretty poor shape, but it doesn't look that bad to me. I've asked her to send us a pic when she puts it up in Gravelbourg.

German Moore

Following on from yesterday's post about the Henry Moore missing from Greenwich Park, apparently in the 'care' of the HM Foundation, Elaine sent me this pic of another Moore in pride of place on the lawn beside the Art gallery in Bielefeld in Germany. Peeping through is Madeleine, age 6. Her four year old brother Eric's playing with her in the next pic.

As Elaine points out, "they obviously have a more relaxed attitude towards their art in Bielefeld." Perhaps they have a more cultured class of thief. I suspect it's more likely that scrap metal prices aren't so high.

Of course it may just be that the Henry Moore Foundation haven't managed to get their sweaty paws on the Bielefeld sculpture yet. Or that the good burghers of Bielefeld didn't just roll over at the first signs there might be an issue with security.

But it is time to get the Greenwich one back. Seems like there's a bit of a head of steam building over this - I heard the Friends of Greenwich Park on the Today Programme yesterday demanding it back. Personally, I think if we don't get it back by 2012, we won't get it back at all.

Moore No More

Gregor asks the not-unreasonable question:

"Now that there's a Henry Moore retrospective on at the Tate, Greenwich's own empty plinth feels a little emptier. Does anyone have any idea whether the Henry Moore foundation will ever return the statue to the park?"

The Phantom replies:

You know - even the mighty Today Programme had a feature on this this morning, Gregor. It would seem that the Henry Moore Foundation has got such a bee in its bonnet about it that it's taken it away 'for safekeeping' i.e. so no one ever gets to see it again.

Apparently the insurance cost became prohibitive - but I don't really get why - I mean the park is locked at night, the thing must weigh a ton - who's going to steal it? Besides - how can you insure something like that? It's not like it could be replaced.

I don't know when it's coming back, but it's the place Moore himself chose for the sculpture - and the plinth looks pretty damn silly without it.



Maybe we should be using the Olympic Panacea to get it back.

Three Random Events I Like The Look Of

Apologies for the lack of updates on Parish News. When I look at the superb job that IanVisits does, I blush, but hey - things are ridiculously busy chez Phantom just now. I'll try to do better in future. I'll update the section with other things I'm not previewing here but still like the sound of later today.

In the meanwhile, three things that have caught my eye, coming up in the next week or so...

First is a slightly bizarre but rather intriguing celebration of East Greenwich Library's 105 birthday on 22nd February. Trying to find out any concrete detail about the event has proved impossible; it would seem they will be 'going with the flow' on the evening, but we're promised music, singers, poetry and readings. I rather like the idea of something that's not organised to the hilt; we're so used to everything being prescribed down to the last second, though it's hard to know exactly what will happen - or, indeed, when it all begins. I'm guessing evening, and since no prices have been mentioned, I'd say it's probably free.

Staying with odd, but a little more structured, a one-night-only performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream - at Up The Creek, of all places. There's a cast of 17 professionals, and the reason it's on at a comedy club is that the mechanicals are all stand up comics who play the venue on a regular basis. If you fancy a ticket, get your skates on - they may only be a tenner, but there's only a ton of them available. Call 0208 858 4581 for tickets. If you miss out this time, the show will be going on national tour - the closest it will play to Greenwich will be the Orchard Theatre in Dartford on the 22nd March.

Finally, Scared of Chives has been telling me about a regular night upstairs at the Mitre. I've been a little edgy about open mic nights ever since my best pal became a stand up comic. I never had an issue watching my mate perform, even in the early days, but some of the other acts were just painful, apologising for their very existence with their whole bodies - and sometimes their acts, too - as they stood lost onstage. Whatever they were feeling it was far worse for the audience.

But this isn't a comedy open mic night, it's music (largely). The One World Club is a " free music club and 'open mic' night" where anyone can get up and perform (you have to turn up before the 7.30 start to book a slot first - check the website for more details) but the very fact that you need to be able to play an instrument or sing reasonably well will probably weed out the really embarrassing stuff. Besides, SoC seems to think the standard's pretty high.

Not that it isn't a lottery as to what might be on any particular night. They've had (among other things) folk singing, poetry, reggae, Indian dancing, jazz guitar, indie, classical, opera and world music, so as long as your tastes are catholic, you should have a good evening. It's free to get in, SoC tells me it's getting busy these days, so arrive early to ensure a seat.

I shall get along as soon as I can to review it (with my luck it will turn out to be a stand-up comics first-timers' special) but in the meanwhile, if the first sniffings of spring this morning after yesteday's vile weather is sending you stir-crazy, check out one of these.

More Stuff To Do on the Parish News later today. Promise.

Ought To 'Ave 'Ad An 'Uggins

I tend to think of the Victorian all-rounder John Ruskin as a poet, but it would seem that he's really more known as an art critic, friend of the pre-raphaelites - and JMW Turner fanatic.

Ruskin loved Turner's work from the start - loved that Turner rejected traditional conventions and concentrated on what he saw with an artist's heart - the colours, form, feel and truth of a subject rather than what was literally in front of his eyes.

His view wasn't shared by all, though, and I found a lovely anecdote told by Ruskin over the weekend that made me smile.

He had been taking a turn around the Painted Hall, which was at the time doing service as an art gallery, its nominal 'guides' being grizzled Greenwich Pensioners earning a few pence by showing people round. Ruskin stopped to appreciate Turner's Battle of Trafalgar (see above - it's in the National Maritime Museum, if you want to take a closer look) and stood in front of the painting rather "longer than pleased my pensioner guide."

Thinking that Ruskin was "detained by indignant wonder at seeing it in so good a place, he assented to my supposed sentiments by muttering in a low voice 'Well, sir, it is a shame that that thing should be there. We ought to 'a 'ad an 'Uggins, that's sartin.' "

The old tar wasn't alone in not holding for all that modern art stuff.

"I can't make English of it," admitted another old boy.

"What a Trafalgar!" grumbled another. "'E's a damned deal more like a brickfield!"

Ruskin chuckles enormously at the antediluvian attitudes to art from the old sailors, but I confess I was a bit confused. Who was this 'Uggins?

Turns out the NNM website was able to help there too. William John Huggins was a painter, with a more literal, traditional eye. He was an old sailor himself, so he knew how to get everything absolutely authentic, rigging-wise (Turner got ticked off for not being totally correct in things technical) but to me there's more than that.

Huggins had worked from the bottom up, as an ordinary seaman, seeing the world and paying his dues - in exotic places, like Bombay and China. As far as the salty old sea dogs were concerned, he was one of their own, and they bought prints a-go-go of his work. He also painted the Battle of Trafalgar - apparently they're in the Royal Collection (though I can't find them), but the NMM has 26 works by him - but it was Turner's work that was chosen for the Painted Hall.

I suspect that Huggins was the Jack Vettriano of his day - loved by the public, hated by art critics. Ruskin didn't care for his work at all, saying that it looked like "no better than a correct model sailed across a pond."

It does seem that Time has been kind to Huggins, though. Although he's still not revered in the same way Turner is, his work commands high prices from collectors. The National Maritime Museum says his work is "a valuable record of the shipping of his period" - but I like it rather more than just as anatomical study. Certainly it's inspired me to go back to the NMM to check his work out further. I'll report back...

Bright Lights, Big City

One of the great things about my recent discovery of how to embed video content is that I'm able to put things like this on the blog after depressing the hell out of you all last week.

Seamus - to my knowledge the Phantom's youngest regular contributor at fifteen (unless Rod's had a very hard life...) has made this compilation of night pictures that have been featured on the blog over the last year or so. They're not all my photos, so he's hoping that anyone who sent them to me won't mind his using them here too.

I, for one found myself totally cheered up after this (well - this and knowing there will be half an hour of fireworks tonight...)

Post Now For Christmas

So - Royal Mail are on strike as from today. I confess I'm a bit surprised - my mail's been all over the place for the last couple of weeks, I thought they were already striking. But the union are warning that we should be posting now for Christmas if we actually want any cards to arrive.

Of course - it's just propaganda - but a good excuse for me to talk about these fabbo Christmas cards Katie's just told me about. I know - this should really be in the Parish News section (check out the lovely exhibition coming up at Bearspace there, BTW) but I love 'em and it's my blog so there.

There are six versions - designed by FT cartoonist Banx - all based on local landmarks and produced by local printers. He's designed them for the Meridian Primary School (he's got two daughters there) - and all proceeds go to the school.

I've got a feeling that these are going to become collector's items (a bit like the utterly fabulous cards issued by the 1970s Greenwich District Hospital (friends?) that feature an artist's impression of the 'iconic' building in full, living Grey - if you are the proud possessor of one you'll know what I mean...)

So - how do you get hold of these Banx cards? Well, there's the rub. There's a website where you can buy all six for £3 via Paypal, or you could contact Katie herself - but then of course you will have to wait for them to arrive - by post. Still - we have a couple of months - they might just make it...



Actually, I just noticed that if you're in the SE10 area, they'll deliver 'em by hand - for free...

Mander & Mitchenson

Sounds like an old Music Hall act, doesn't it. And you wouldn't be far off at that.

Raymond Mander and Joe Mitchenson were a pair of young actors who, when they met in the London Docklands Settlement in the late 1930s, knew they were soulmates. Passionate about theatre, they bonded both professionally and personally, and between them amassed a huge collection of theatrical memorabilia - from programmes and scripts to costumes and props.

It was useful for them that they counted among their friends some of the great luvvies of their day - Dame Sybil Thorndyke, Noel Coward and Sir John Gielgud just some of the luminaries that gave them stuff for posterity.

They kept it all in their place in Sydenham. My imagination sees Number 5, Venner Road as a delightfully bohemian jumble of the banal and the beautiful, the worthless and the priceless, all muddled together with a louche, Kenneth Williams-esque post-war Britishness.

It all became scarily full, and a compulsory-order purchase on the house by Lewisham Council in the 1970s provided the catalyst to turn the collection, which by now included books and papers by Mander & Mitchenson themselves, into something a bit more official.

A trust was formed, headed by Lord Olivier, and the collection moved to Beckenham Place Park for 15 years - until Lewisham Council decided to sell the grade II listed building...

After a brief stint at the Sally Army headquarters, the Mander & Mitchenson Collection was given a grant by the Jerwood Foundation and is now yet another of Greenwich's 'secret museums' about which no one seems to know. In case you're wondering, it's in the Jerwood Library at Trinity College.

It's not really a 'public' museum, but it can be visited, generally if you're a researcher - you have to arrange to go - details here.

There's an online catalogue - which is where I found out about the museum in the first place, (trying to google historic son et lumieres, as one does...) But the more I find out about Greenwich's 'secret' museums, the more I realise that there are quite a few of them. I daresay there are collections yet to be discovered...

Stormy Sunday

I guess it looks a bit like some tired joke about black clouds over Britain's bankers, but Stevie has sent me these more because of the godawful weather we've been having over the last few days.

He tells me that photographers actually like bad weather as it provides interesting lighting conditions. Personally I'll swap 'interesting' for 'boring' lighting conditions any day. Perhaps that's why I'm a rubbish photographer and always like it when people send me their good stuff...

Stevie's been working towards becoming a professional photographer for some time now. I know nothing about photography, but I reckon he's well on the way - just needs a break.
A vague thought is brewing at the back of my mind. I get sent all kinds of fantastic photos (and the odd art work) by local artists - I wonder - would there be room in the cutthroat world of Photography for a Phantom Greenwich Picture Library?

I have no idea how to set one up (I'm not talking Flickr here - more like a real online clearing-house where local artists and photographers could lodge their work for hire) but - well - how hard could it be?

Gulliver's Travels

This week's location shoot at the Old Royal Naval College is Gulliver's Travels. I'm guessing the security guards got fed up with explaining what's going on to curious passers-by as there's a big board at the entrance that not only tells us what the production is, but apologises for inconvenience - something I've never seen before and really appreciate - Thank you, 20th Century Fox, for being polite.

Unlike Wolfman, which barred the gates to gawpers, this seems to be a fairly open set. They close off areas while they're actually shooting, but the rest of the time the public can just wander around. Clearly, Fox have worked out that if someone sees something being made, they're more likely to be curious to see the finished article.

Being the world's worst star-spotter, I have no idea who this handsome couple are, or, indeed, who the panto-style guards may be, but apparently Jack Black is to play the titular hero. This could either be a brilliant or a terrible move, but there's only one way to find out, I guess...

At this point, may I renew my plea for anyone who's in the loop on filming in our fair borough, to maybe get in touch? I'd love to have a "what's being filmed where this week" section on the blog...

Aarrrooooo!

"Me" asks:

"According to signage on the site, "Wolfman Films" is doing a bit of night filming around the University to May 27th. Do you know if it is connected to the filming done last year ('08) on the "Wolfman Film"? I walk through the University most days to and from work and had to walk through grimy streets and horse poop this morning - Ewww! It was still cool though because lots of props were hanging out to sneak a peek at...and how cool is it to tell my friends and family that I walk through film sets on the way to work! :-)"

Sadly, "Me," my call for a mole in the Greenwich Film Unit has gone unheeded (probably because I wasn't particularly polite about it once. Damn my mouth...)

So I had to resort to my old friend the Internet, which, as everyone knows, is never wrong. It is, indeed, more filming for Wolfman, which apparently had too much boring old plot, so they're tacking on some more action shots before the much-delayed release. The Big Picture is sceptical about it all - if a film's going to be boring, adding extra shots only makes it longer, argues Bruno, but hey - it will also add extra Greenwich...

And it gives me an excuse to add another pic from last year's shoot...

The Mores

Sunny weather needs sunny songs. Preferably sunny sixties/seventies retro style songs. I'm not sure whether The Mores would be offended or delighted at me shoving them into retro-mode, but listening to their stuff catapults me to a faded Kodachrome place between late-era Beatles, Supertramp, the Electric Light Orchestra circa Out of the Blue and (sorry, guys) Billy Joel, sometime between The Stranger and 52nd Street.

At that point, their stuff takes a musical sabbatical during the 80s and 90s and resurfaces somewhere around early 2000s alt-pop. Davey-Ray Moor-era Cousteau-ish heavy chords and a spot of Andrew Bird surreality.

I'm not really sure what 'South East London' means on their MySpace slot - but Robbie from the band started a live music night in Woolwich a short while ago, so I'm counting them as local (my interpretation of the word 'local' tends to expand and contract according to how much I like the thing in question - I'll appropriate stuff miles away if it's cool...)

Check 'em out, folks. Don't bother trying to find the website - it's under construction - go straight to the MySpace slot above.

A Year In The Life Of Greenwich Park

Anthony Quiney, (Frances Lincoln, £16.99)

I have been waiting for this book to come out. I first noticed it slated for publishing something like 18 months ago - and eventually got so sick waiting I called round some likely bookshops, and got one of them to call the publisher. I believed it had been cancelled. I am delighted to see I was wrong.

Firstly, a couple of things this book is not. It is not the much-needed serious history and exploration of the park that would be the natural child of A. D. Webster's seminal 1902 Greenwich Park, shamefully long out of print before a successor has come into place. The text in A Year In The Life of Greenwich Park is interesting enough, but not the primary function of the book (a shame since Quiney is an architectural historian who has been both Professor of Architectural History and President of the Royal Archaeological Institute - I would have placed him in pole-position to write the Park version of John Bold's definitive Greenwich.) It gives the barest overview of the park's history - nicely written and entertaining, but not deep enough to present any real analysis.

The other thing this book is not, is a year 'behind the scenes' at Greenwich Park. Again, I am mildly surprised that with a commission like this, Quiney didn't collaborate with Royal Parks to give us a keepers-eye view of what has to be a rarified world, part-way between royal straitjacket and real life; to show us what needs to be done to keep a place like that going, and to give us a glimpse into the 'secret' world of Greenwich Park. I can't sneak around the deer enclosure, behind the potting sheds, on top of the reservoir, inside Hawksmoor's Standard Reservoir or even poke around in the bowels of the Royal Observatory, but I sure as hell would have liked Quiney to have done so for me - to have given me a vicarious tour of the bits of Greenwich Park I don't get to see.

So. If that's what A Year in the Life of Greenwich Park isn't, then what actually is it?

It's the book you turn to when the skies are black with rainclouds, the temperature's below zero and the winds are howling louder than the dog.

It's the book you carry with you, (despite its size and shape) wherever you go in the world, to remind you why Greenwich is fantastic and its Park is the most beautiful you'll find anywhere.

It's the book that gives you confidence that Spring's low sun will bring the flowers again, that Summer will fill your heart with heady, sunshiny days, that crisp Autumn mornings will remind you you're alive and that Winter has a crystalline beauty of its own. Oh - and that there are parrots in them thar trees...

Anthony Quiney's photographs are staggeringly lovely. Now - I know that Greenwich Park is hardly a difficult place to make look stunning, but to make it look different - to surprise a seasoned park-goer into reassessing much-loved areas, to force a casual reader to stop flicking-through and to take a long look at each picture - that's a skill.

I keep going back to it, looking again, pausing, thinking. What I particularly like about the collection is that it is bang-up-to-date modern. The photographs themselves are of timeless subjects, but the way they are taken (and treated - there appears to have been some fun had with the Hue/Saturation button in places, an effect of which I heartily approve) is pure 21st Century.

My favourites currently include the 'spider' tree, the petal-strewn grass, the post-downpour tennis courts and Princess Caroline's Bath (the last because it made me stop and really think why it had been cropped the way it had. I think I get it now.) But I change my mind every time I look at it. It's lovely.

As I started out, this is not a substitute for a proper, in-depth study of the park - both its history and what it is now. That is a book long overdue. But as a companion volume to such a work, it is outstanding.

Oh, and don't miss the parrots.

Baroque

SoC also reminded me a couple of days ago (and I STILL forgot) to mention that the first ten minutes or so of this week's episode Waldemar Januszczak's series about Baroque architecture deals with Greenwich - mainly the Queen's House and the ORNC, from what I could tell.

Indeed it may cover more than that - I don't know because I didn't manage to see the rest of it myself this week (a pal called at an inopportune moment and I'm not tragic enough (yet) to choose telly over humans. The day will come, I'm sure.)

So you and me both have a couple of days left to nip over to iplayer and watch it again. Find it here.

Got A Grand To Spare?

I get sent the strangest things. I guess it was a nice piece of lateral thinking that made an auction house in Dorset send me (and, I note from the public carbon-copying, sundry free-papers - I wonder if they realise I'm just a blog...) news of this painting coming up for sale on 9th April. I doubt they'll get many customers gagging for it down Dorchester way.

And you're wondering why I think you might be interested in this bucolic, early 19thC watercolour of a pair of jolly milkmaids chatting up a shepherd, aren't you?

Well, if you click on the pic, you may just about be able to make out some fuzzy buildings in the background. These are, we're told, Greenwich Hospital and the Thames, complete with sailing boats. The happy milkmaids are on Shooters Hill.

Personally, I can't see any boats - unless they're the giant white things that I assumed were the ORNC - but it's quite a sweet painting. Big, too - 23" x 33". Dukes are, naturally, hoping for huge interest in Samuel Austin's view of South East London before it was - well, South East London, I guess.

The estimate is between £500 and £1000. Dukes is optimistic - "we expect it could do considerably better." They would say that, wouldn't they.

The one thing they don't include in the press release is any kind of detail on how to actually bid. Yours Truly thought that someone with an interest in Greenwich and in possession of a magnifying glass might be interested in this one, though, so here's Duke's website . Once you get there, I confess you're on your own. The catalogue isn't available yet...

Fan Made Theatre

Despite the best efforts of various funding bodies who would rather we all saw up-yer-arse Art rather than exciting, innovative - but ultimately popular (eeek! the Arts Council shudders) theatre, lovely London Bubble Theatre company is still managing to hold out against the odds.

Given a spot of grudging 'transitional' funding last year, they're now looking to find quirky alternatives to traditional ways of putting on a show right here. Given Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland are otherwise engaged, they've come up with 'Fan-Made Theatre' and I, for one am going to be right in there.

You buy a stake in the show - which is, basically, a ticket-up-front. It costs twenty quid (just a tenner if you count for concessions.) But here's where the good bit comes in - you also give 'em your ideas about what you'd like them to do in the way of a show this year.

There's then a big online bunfight (okay, okay, 'discussion') and, once all the ideas have been mulled over by the theatre's new stakeholders (i.e. us,) there's a vote. The winning idea gets the classic Jonathan Petherbridge treatment, and goes on tour as a promenade performance this summer, taking in sundry London parks, gardens and woods (including, I'm sure, our very own Oxleas...)

And on top of all that - there's a special Fan-Made shindig at the end of it for the stakeholders.

I adore London Bubble. My mates and I have made a habit of going en-masse to pretty much every London production they've done over the years. I love the world they create - an all-encompassing universe that feeds not just your eye - but your periphery of vision too - you're always aware that slightly-out-of-this world creepy stuff is going on just out of sight or round the corner, and that if you're very lucky you might just catch a glimpse of it.

I'm definitely going to purchase a stake in the show (so much more fun than just buying a ticket...) and I urge you to do the same. Get a ticket, get involved and tell 'em what you want to see. They are too precious to lose.

Find out about it here - see you in the summer at whatever magical event they create (I'll be one of those just-out-of-sight creepy things...)

Bronco Bullfrog

Roger has brought to my attention a lost '60s mod 'masterpiece' from the well-'ard Saturday Night Sunday Morning end of British film-making. I can't say it looks like a barrel of laughs, and at £160 a pop on Amazon I'm not going to bother finding out (though Roger says he's found somewhere cheaper and has ordered his own copy. He's not revealing his sources...)

But the trailer is available to all. It is supposed to have been filmed 'in London's East End' - but just look at some of those locations. I agree with Roger. The actors may have been from Joan Littlewoods Theatre Workshop in Stratford, but the places look South London to me. Isn't that the Charlton side of Woolwich Road, just past the flyover, that they're driving along? What about those docks the lads run along? Crowley's Wharf is my suspicion. And those prefabs - Catford, perhaps? I guess it's a toss-up as to whether you'd count the foot tunnel as north or south...

Enjoy your slice of gritty cult London here.

Something to look out for:

Modculture tells me that the film marks an important crossover in mod styling - from standard skinhead clobber to the penny collars and suedehead styles that mod became in the 70s. Fashion-slaves - take note...

Young Victoria

We get so many costume-drama shoots here that it didn't surprise me when the PR guy for the film Young Victoria told me that parts of it were filmed in Greenwich - apparently standing in for Constitution Hill, which was indisposed...

Does anyone remember this? I usually notice - or at least hear about film shoots going on - but this one totally passed me by.

I can't see that Victoria herself had much - or, indeed, any - interest in Greenwich. I'm not even sure if she ever set foot here. Still - she (or a much better-looking version of her...) will be treading our hallowed streets from March 6th, when we can all sit in the Picturehouse squinting at the backgrounds to see if we recognise anything.

Or we can wait for Watchmen. Which I'm pretty sure doesn't have a single frame shot in Greenwich. Or, indeed, in the real world.

Anchor Iron Wharf

I don't know about you, but whenever I'm confronted by a large amount of text on a sculpture I diligently read it all. It just doesn't make it to my brain.

The giant anchor at Anchor Iron Wharf is a perfect example of what I mean. I stand there, read it, and ten seconds later it's completely left my mind. I couldn't tell you a thing it says.

So today, I thought I'd do a very simple thing. Transcribe it here. Chances are it won't go in this way either - but it might just work. I've added some punctuation to make it read a bit better...

"In 964 King Edgar granted this land to the abbey of St Peters in Ghent, Flanders. Henry V re-posessed it in 1414. After the English Civil War Charles II granted the land to Sir William Boreman in 1676. He was clerk to the board of Green Cloth and involved with the design of Greenwich Park. He also founded Green Coat School. In 1695 his widow sold the estate of Old Court Manor to Sir John Morden. He had already built Morden College in 1695 to accommodate merchants who had lost their estates by accidents and perils of the seas. In 1705 Sir Ambrose Crowley, an iron-maker, moved to a riverside mansion which he renamed Crowley House and built Crowley's Wharf. In 1953 Charles Robinson moved his premises to what became Anchor Iron and Crowley's Wharf. The principal cargoes were scrap iron, lead ingots, metal and glass."

Phew. Now I know why that doesn't go in. There's just too much information in too little space. In trying to edify the nation, the designers of this sculpture have just managed to do my spectral head in.

It seems a futile attempt. Either people are interested - and they go off and find out stuff - or they just use it as somewhere pleasant to get a good view of the river, or they're not - and are happy to use it to lean against while they enjoy a fag outside the Cutty Sark.

And surely great chunks of dense text aren't going to interest anyone on a nice riverside walk?

The information given is sound enough but where's the interest? The excitement? The joy of art for art's sake? Everything seems to have to have an educational purpose these days.

I would have rather had the nice anchor with a tiny bit of info and trust that people who are interested will follow it up. Those that aren't won't read an essay anyway. In fact, given the length of this post, I probably lost them in the first paragraph. And that's ok.

Thing is, there are clues to the area's history all around if you look. Take the wall of the Cutty Sark. I don't have a close-up of this so the pic below is small, but you can just make out on the side, the stamp of Morden College, which shows that it owned the land.

You'll see this sign all over Greenwich - it's a good thing to get bored children to look out for on walks:



As for the wharves - well - a little trot around the curve in the river (with a slightly larger than is desireable detour just now) will show you wharves still at work. And William Boreman? Well he also seems to be everywhere. From planting those chestnuts to tending the Dwarf Orchard, to setting up schools - a seriously Greenwichian Greenwichian. More about him on another day very soon...

And yes, I do know that the picture at the top includes a ghostly shadow. Enjoy...

1900 House

RTB got me thinking when he asked:

"What - if anything - happened to The 1900 House? I can't find any mention of it on the Greenwich Council website. Did it get sold to a private individual?"

Lord - I'd completely forgotten that 2000 series - where Channel 4 bought a house in Charlton (50, Elliscombe Road) ripped out all the electricity, kitchen and - well anything post-1900 - and took it back to what it would have been like at the turn of the last century. Then they shipped in a rather irritating family to live the life of a late-Victorian household for three months as one of the first (and therefore rather more valid) reality TV doccos.

I thought I'd better take another look at the series - it's available on Amazon - though if you're planning to do the same, make sure you get the Region 2 version - apparently the Region 1 edition has a syrupy American voiceover.

The first programme is easily the most interesting to anyone who lives in one of the hundreds of houses like 50 Elliscombe Road round here. It shows how the specialists ripped out a particularly horrible flat conversion - though they admit the very fact that it was so badly done meant that much of the original stuff was still there under layers of hardboard and cowboy extension (which the council, btw, had no record of...)

I was riveted by it. I've been in dozens of these houses - and here was one looking just like it would have done. I confess the finished article wasn't really to my taste - very dark and gloomy and full of clutter, reminding me of my Great Aunt's house when I was a nipper (yeah, yeah chez Phantom is full of clutter too, but it's not china doggies or uplifting framed Bible tracts. Well - not many, anyway.) I was particularly amused, on a second viewing, to see, on the wall a print entitled Return of the Sword. How do I know this? Because it turned up every week for about two years at Greenwich Auctions sometime around 2004...

The rest of the programme was mildly interesting, but I found the people annoying - especially wife. She was so bloomin' grumpy - almost from the start, despite it being her idea in the first place. But then I guess I can be one grumpy Phantom too at times, and perhaps Phantoms had a hard time in those days too, having to loom around M.R. James stories and in Wilkie Collins romances...

There's a book to go with the series, available from Amazon Marketplace for 1p (+ P&P) which is excellent - compulsory reading for anyone who lives in one of those terraced houses and wants to know what it would have looked like.

But back to RTB's question. What became of the house?

I've done a couple of searches, and the first sale I can find was back in 2000, presumably by Ch 4 after the programme. It went for £180,000. I have no idea what became of it, but I'll wager it didn't stay without electricity and central heating for long and I'm presuming that the outside loo has come in from the cold. The place was sold again in March 2002, for £300,000, adding three zeros to its initial Victorian price of £300.

I took a little walk around, and, as you can see from the pic, externally at least, little has changed.

Does anyone know the people now at 50, Elliscombe Road - or do you live there yourself? Let a nosy Phantom know what it's like now. Did you keep any of the features? What about the outside loo?

I'd just love to know...

The Alps

I'm currently listening to Something I Might Regret. I doubt it though.

I spend a fair amount of time at least checking new bands - though I confess that my attention span tends to be slim these days. A few seconds on MySpace at best sometimes.

But I got an email from Sam a few days ago. He plays in a band called The Alps, "hailing from the cobbled maritime backstreets of old Greenwich town," no less.

Sam knows how to melt a jaded Phantom's heart. And here's a tip. Sending a picture of swaggering young men posing in the Painted Hall guarantees a spin on the spectral decks.

Ok, I thought. The usual thirty seconds. I might even give it forty-five, since they're local.

I listened to everything.

So - how do I describe The Alps? There's certainly something retro about them. I'm thinking early 80s guitar-based alt-pop. I can hear The Fall in there somewhere (and also, possibly a tad distressing for them, Duran Duran...) but there's a little more than that in there. Perhaps some post-Aztec Roddy Frame? Yeah. A bit more reflective, but not gloomy enough for Morrissey.

I turn to their biog. Ah yes - a "confident and stylish brand of 3 minute pop gems." Well, I'll give 'em points for chutzpah. But - hey - I was right - 1980s. Yesss. The Phantom links a finger and marks up an imaginary point for hearing nearly-correct influences (ok, perhaps not the Duran Duran...) I didn't hear the 'folk music and sea shanties' though. I guess I won't make it onto Buzzcocks after all.

I haven't been to see them live yet - they've not been performing recently, though Sam tells me that they're planning some gigs for Feb. When they do I'll try to get along. I'm determined to go to more gigs this year. These guys are intriguing.

I understand that 2009 is one for electro-pop from the girls; that guitar-bands will have to work harder to get where they're going. But from what I hear of the Alps, they might just do it...

Hear their new single Obstacle Race here...

Clash In The Attic

For once, this terrible pun is not from the Phantom's pen - but I couldn't think of a better title for this post.

I was sent a press release from Chris Merriman, the human face of a new internet project, based in that hot-bed of rock & roll, Charlton, which aims to create an archive of rock memorabilia - the kind of thing that most of us tend to squirrel away in files and boxes never to be looked at again until the House Clearance brigade move in.

We're talking archive and bootleg footage from gigs, fanzines, interviews and photos of rock legends (and presumably not-so-legendary pop acts...) that you might have knocking around that you'd like to see earn you a bit of cash.

Rokpool already has a load of previously unseen footage/photos etc of famous stars like Zepplin, Clapton and The Beatles, but it's looking for more before its launch to the cyberworld. I assume it will be a bit like a cross-media photo library. If you're holding something really interesting, it could earn you an absolute mint, and this sounds like a very exciting project.

Caveat:

The talk of 'unique licensing arrangements' in the press release intrigues me. A word to the wise. Read any contracts VERY carefully, and don't be afraid to challenge aspects you don't like.

I have absolutely no reason to believe that Rokpool is anything other than completely up-front and honest - and I think it will be a valuable addition to the music world - but it is (or will be, at least) part of the wider Music Business. Any music contract should be scrutinised (and, if necessary, argued) down to the last comma.

But, caveat aside, this looks like a brilliant idea. If you're sitting on a gem, contact Chris at info@rokpool.com

Greenwich IMAX Tested

Following on from yesterday, the reason why I was trying to cross that bridge on Friday night. To test out the new IMAX screen at Greenwich Odeon, something I've been looking forward to since I found out it was coming...

Right up until the last minute I thought I wasn't going to be able to go. The website said that the entire screen was sold out. Well - it was the last Friday before Christmas, so it wasn't really surprising.

So we tried telephoning - and after a LOT of "If you want this, press that" malarkey, actually spoke to a human, who told us there were tickets, but only in the more expensive premier seats. IMAX is already dearer than regular Odeon seats, which is understandable - you're getting more for your cash - but there also seems to be a new classification. There's 'regular,' and those gallery seats at the back which cost about twice as much but give you a squashy seat and a fizzy drink, but also 'Premier' which are numbered, so you don't have to queue.

There was a group of us, so we decided to pay the extra and go anyway. We only started to get suspicious when we bowled up and the place was deserted. If there were 25 people in there, I'd be surprised. And nearly all of them were in those 'premier' seats...

I'm going to assume that the computer system was broken and that it is normally possible to book regular tickets. It just wouldn't make economic sense to tell people you're full when you're not.

So. We're inside. And looking forward to those 'premier' seats.

Folks, I'm warning you now. If you are shorter than about 6ft, you are in for an uncomfortable time. The seats, completely rigid (none of that lovely slidey variety) are set so high that if you're anything less than - well - tall, your feet will dangle over the edge. I spent the entire film squirming around trying to get comfy. I am no midget, but I ended up almost horizontal with my coat rolled up under the hollow of my back.

I'm not going to talk about The Day The Earth Stood Still - the choice of movie of the week isn't down to individual cinemas (though don't get me started on the film distribution system in the UK...)

So. Back on to the IMAX experience itself. You know, I was under the impression that IMAX screens were enormous and had extraordinary clarity. And that an IMAX sound system is gigantic, plastered with speakers and intended to make you 'feel' the sound.

Well, I'll give them that last one. The night we went, the sound was so damn loud it hurt. There was physical pain involved. I thought it might just be me, but my entire party agreed it was just too loud. One of our group, a rock drummer, is going deaf - and even he thought it was too loud. There are many, many speakers, but I'm guessing they haven't worked out how to use them properly yet. There just weren't enough bodies to soak up the sound and they hadn't made allowances for that.

I've always been impressed with the London IMAX - and yes, it is noisy, but it's never threatened to make my ears bleed. At Waterloo, they have balanced the sound so that it becomes part of you, not overwhelm your will to live.

Perhaps they're making up for the screen. I don't know how big Screen 9 was before. I think they have increased it to the size of the wall, but it's certainly nowhere near as big as I'd expected. It felt like a normal screen - except the resolution didn't seem as good - as though the projector was just putting an ordinary film onto a bigger screen.

Of course, once the action started, glitches in clarity aren't noticeable, so I wasn't so bothered by that as I was by the sound, which just didn't get any better. I never acclimatised myself to the sheer volume. I certainly feel for the staff, who (and I'm absolutely serious about this) should be issued with earplugs for H&S purposes.

The one good by-product of the volume was that it was only in the quiet moments (and there aren't many in The Day The Earth Stood Still) that I could hear the interminable chatter of the teenagers to my right.

I was really excited about getting a local IMAX, but with my hand on my heart, I can't recommend the experience. I shall be continuing at the Picturehouse for all normal films, and, should I fancy a full-on IMAX hit, I'll be hopping on the train to Waterloo, where they've calculated how to make it work.

Fairytale of Greenwich

Season's greetings from Fairyland!

Well, actually, it's the Tate & Lyle factory (formerly Amylum) taken by Stevie with one of those starry filters which makes it look a whole lot better than I've ever seen it.

It's possibly the last Christmas that we'll see this particular sight - the place is allegedly closing down. I guess there aren't going to be that many residents who will mourn the extraordinary repertoire of odours that it pumps out (like Revels, really - you never know which one you're going to get...) but it will be much missed by the poor sods who actually rely on it for work.

I find myself wondering what will happen to this part of the river - one of the only industrial wharves left in this stretch, which, if memory serves, Ken had announced needed to stay industrial. But things have changed, and who can tell what will happen now. Ther's still a lot of industry there - we don't tend to think about it much, but it's a big bit of land - a walk round the Thames Path proves that, with much interesting stuff going on. Some bits of the path still remind me of something out of The Long Good Friday.

Will it be cleaned up and turned into flats? More of those million-quid Canary-Wharf-style pads that The Standard reckons City guys are selling-up more quickly than any area of the market? Or will it just quietly crumble and moulder away as fewer and fewer people use the Thames Path because the Lovells' Wharf development makes it look like it's closed...

But that's for another day. Today, I'm celebrating the joyous marriage of a few brake lights, street lamps, office strip-lighting - and a star filter. And, of course, the relationship between the Dome and a couple of puddles...

While I'm on the subject of Art around the A102M, if you have six minutes going begging, take a peek at the curiously compulsive film/animation Bus Stop by multi-media artist Christophe Bruchansky, shot in much the same place and possibly much the same time as Stevie's pics. Not much actually happens - but that seems to be rather the point...

Art, if not industry, thrives on the Peninsula...

Greenwich Mural Workshop

There's good - and not-so-good news about Greenwich Mural Workshop, which has been brightening our street corners for the past three decades.

They've had, like so many arts organisations in the run-up to the Olympics, an especially tough time this year, with their funding going up and down like crazy and vandalism to some of their work.

It's all ended in their changing premises as from 1st January 2009, leaving the workshops they've inhabited for 25 years. They'll just have an office from now on, and just hire studio space when they really need it - a better result than closing altogether, but hardly ideal for artists who never know when inspiration might strike...

But good stuff has also happened. Not least the fabulous Rathmore Benches in Charlton, created in the 1980s and on the at-risk register for years. They finally got enough funding to be able to repair them back in September, something that has gladdened my heart. Sadly they didn't have enough cash to complete the job - all they've really been able to do is stablise them and prevent further erosion - but hey - it's a start.

And, the reason I'm writing about them today, a free exhibition to mark the end of an era at their premises in Woolwich. It is a retrospective of their work to be held for one week only and starting today.

It will include a display of posters, banners, mosaic and painted murals, carnival, playground structures, parks and gardens created since their birth in 1975.

Visit them between 1pm and 6pm daily, from 15th to 20th December 2008 at:

MACBEAN CENTRE,

MACBEAN STREET, WOOLWICH, LONDON SE18 6LW

Long may they continue...

Jack and The Beanstalk

Greenwich Theatre

Folks - it's been several hours now and my tears have dried, but my phantasmagorical face is still really hurting.

I enjoyed last year's panto at Greenwich Theatre, but I was slightly disappointed after the triumph of the year before. There was something slightly out-of-kilter with the story and the entire budget seemed to have gone on the dame's outfits.

But this year - this year, they are back up to form with an energy that is going to make this review look like I'm a raving lunatic. Perhaps I am. But I can't remember the last time I laughed so much (well, actually I can - it was Greenwich Theatre's 2006 panto. The vision of the good fairy belting out Holding Out For A Hero flanked by henchmen in knitted chain mail, eclipsed only by the arsing-around of the comedy characters behind the obligatory soppy lovers' duet still keeps everyone chez Phantom giggling two years later.)

If there are any panto-phobes actually reading this review, I'm sorry - but I have to get this out of my system. Pantomime is something you love or hate - slop scenes, bad jokes, bouncing balls and screaming kiddies. But I'm convinced that the reason a lot of people detest pantomime is because there are so many bad ones about. This is a good one.

What I love about the annual Greenwich Panto is that it is the classic two-levels writing - silly gags for the kiddies, topical references for the grown-ups (I can hardly call them 'adults') but it never gets sordid like so many commercial productions. There's not a TV star among the cast (well - it's possible the junior leads are famous, but I didn't recognise them. Sorry.)

The actors aren't luvvies slumming-it, either. I saw the Ian McKellen Aladdin, and although he was a triumph, the production sucked - clearly written by people who thought they were better than their commission.

These guys are clearly creating - and know they are creating - something classy - it may be for children but that doesn't mean it's going to be tacky.

It's fast - really fast - the wafer-thin story's clear enough for even the tiniest to understand, but the ideas and jokes pile on top of each other so quickly that you don't have time to stop laughing at one before the next one comes along.

I have two fave characters, as ever. The dame (of course) Andrew Pollard, who writes the show with genuine wit and a lot of silliness. The gags are old, but re-told with such glee that the tears just rolled down my cheeks. I actually worried a pregnant friend down the row would go into labour. Dame Trot is sharp - but not unkind. We were treated to a high-speed re-cap of events-so-far for a guy who arrived late - but it was sweet, rather than humiliating. And her costumes, as always, are absurd in the extreme.

My other favourite is the Dame's usual sidekick, Paul Critoph, who always plays the daft-king character. This year he was 'King Boris' with appropriate bleach-blonde hairdo. It's a tough job, being a jolly-old-soul stereotype, but Critoph plays it with a vigour that makes what is usually a minor character into a star.

"Three years at Bristol Old Vic Theatre School..." quips the dame to a 'yoghurt'-covered Boris in the traditional slop-scene.

"My parents are so proud," he replies. Long may those two reign.

Even the ingenues are great - the usually soppy juve-leads have been chosen for cracking voices and - heavens - acting abilities.

Nobody - from the jolly fairy to the wonderfully spider-like baddie - gives the impression they're only doing it for the cash - which so many of the commercial jobbies do, and no one takes the piss out of the material - or plays in-jokes, another traditional problem. They just radiate that they're having a ball - in one case, literally - though I won't spoil the deliriously silly ballet-sequence by describing it here.

Nor will I spoil the extraordinary Act One finale by even attempting to tell you what they do to a rock classic, save that at that stage it occured to me that Freddie Mercury missed his calling...

Why can't Greenwich Theatre come up with such great stuff throughout the year? Some of their other fare has been decidedly patchy (ahem, The Secret Agent, ahem...) but material this sophisticated - and yes, I chose my words carefully - shows they can do it.

It probably helps that they've chucked a real, live budget at it. Just when I thought I must have seen every penny on stage, a special effect arrived that was jaw-dropping. Or maybe I should say jaw-chomping...

In fact, I loved everything, with the one exception of the chorus girls' costumes - singularly unflattering - perhaps they were prototypes for the dame's outfits that didn't pass muster so they were passed down...

I don't know how fast tickets are selling - I guess they can work out a tad pricey for the whole family but there are different rates available (we were cheap enough to go on one of their discount nights...) but if you are looking for something to lift the economic gloom for a couple of hours, you could do a lot worse than this. Go - leave your cynicism at the door - and enjoy. And don't worry if you don't know any small people to take. There are lots of groups of adults in there alongside the brownies and schoolchildren.

Look out for the detail too - the chorus must have studied the Greased Lightning sequence from Grease for hours to get it so accurate. Given the constraints, of course. John Travolta didn't have to soup-up a pantomime cow...

Putting the Green in Greenwich

Anyone know what the latest filming extravaganza down at the ORNC is?

Dazza asked the workmen who were building this 'claustrophobic little alleyway' but they just shrugged their shoulders and didn't answer.

The one setting we can guarantee it won't be, with this amount of green-screening, is Greenwich itself. Greenwich must be in half the movies made, the amount of filming that goes on - but it never actually gets to be - well, Greenwich. I'm guessing that someone's setting something somewhere that doesn't have a river and is going to CGI-in the appropriate background, 'cause it's cheaper than going to the proper place.

If you could uproot Greenwich and plonk it down in another environment, where you you put it? The wild west? The moon? The rainforest? I bet we can think of a better setting for it than the film makers...

Chalk Me Up, Scottie

Spotted by Benedict, a sort of cubist Scottie dog chalked into the path near Princess Caroline's Bath. IMHO much more fun than those tedious Banksy-Lite spraycan rats that appear from time to time, but probably less durable...

Banksy-Lite

Harriet asks:

"Do you know anything about the Banksy style "rat" stencils which appeared a few months ago in East Greenwich? I'm not convinced they're genuine as Banksy doesn't usually put writing on his stuff and they say "Dicky Jones" on them.

Perhaps you put them there. Are you Dicky Jones? There are a couple of rats coming out of the North exit of Maze Hill train station on the brickwork, and there is one on the corner of Old Woolwich Road and East Street...."

The Phantom replies:

Me? Certainly not. If I were going to daub the walls of East Greenwich with derivative art it would be with little baby Phantoms, obviously.

Yeah - these little critters have been popping up all over town, but I confess that I've not been wildly impressed with them. Banksy hit the zeitgeist because he came up with, and continues to come up with witty, fresh material - witness the very fabulous Chicken Nuggets exhibit in Greenwich Village. Anyone doing stencils these days and not coming up with something utterly amazing (rats on street corners? Who'd have thought it...) should be looking for a more original way to express themselves, IMHO. They don't offend me, but neither are they great art.

Of course - if it is Banksy - well, if I were his school art teacher I'd give him 4 out of 10 and write 'must try harder' on his report card...

Monsters Of The Deep.

I know this looks like the world's crappiest photo - and yes, I guess it nearly is - except that I took three more that were all worse than this. There is a reason for it though, honest...

I don't often go off-topic and write about things other than Greenwich - and even if I do, they usually have a Greenwich theme or are great 'days out.' I have no real excuse for including this other than it's fantastic, Thames-ish and there's only a week left of it. And since our trains go there, and lots of people work around London Bridge, I'm sort-of counting it as a Lovely Thing to see on your way home...

Drift is the first annual art exhibition on the Thames - large-scale projects free for all to view. It's been on a couple of weeks but I hadn't been wildly impressed with most of the exhibits I'd seen up to Friday. They weren't bad art (there is a lot of Bad Art about), just not exciting. There was a shiny wavery board floating by the Millennium Bridge, and some sounds played on the bridge (when I was there, the 'seagulls' meant to "disorientate passers-by" were drowned out by the real thing. Now if there had been cows mooing and pastural sounds of goatherds yodelling through the mountains - now then I'd have been disoriented..) a decorated buoy and a rather nice, but slightly promising-more-than-it-delivered laser 'bridge' reaching across those ghost piers by the modern Blackfriars one. I liked it all well enough but not enough to break Greenwich rank and write about it.

That was before I saw the monsters.

Walk to the north end of London Bridge and look over the western edge at dusk. I got there around 6.30pm and it was a bit early, the sun wasn't quite down yet, but I like to think that part of the art is staring into the murk and thinking you can see sea monsters.

As it gets darker, a series of projectors start to show CGI mythical creatures of the deep swimming around 'under' the water, diving, coming to the surface, intertwining with each other, racing each other, then disappearing down again. Then the water goes black again before - yes - is that a fin? Oh - no. It went down again. But - hey - there's another. Look - it's got bug-eyes and a weird - no it's gone again. Everything goes dark. You wait ages. It must have stopped. Almost a minute goes by. Shall we go? Yeah let's - no, look - there's two more . And a baby...

The artist, Craig Walsh, has managed to capture something very deep in our imaginations (well - in mine, anyway) about the Thames. Ok, I've usually had one or two when I normally look into the river and see weird creatures - but there's something very primeval about Man and monsters. We love them and are terrified by them pretty much equally, and stories of them have been with us since - well, since forever.

I love this installation with a passion. What I love about it is that it's really subtle - you have to wait - and watch. And the magic isn't just in seeing projections of creatures swimming around - it's in the time in between those creatures' appearances, and the thoughts that envelope you as you wait.

I thoroughly recommend this work of art. If you're at London Bridge it's a short walk to the north west corner. I reckon from about 6.45 to about 7.15pm is probably best. I went a second time to see it, later in the evening and the combination of lights under the bridge and the fact that later on you can ever so slightly see the whole projected image instead of just the monsters, makes me think that magical crepuscular moment is the most enchanting.

I tried, a bit half-heartedly, admittedly, to get a pic - but this isn't something to be captured - it's something to experience. You can try clicking on the image to get it bigger, but it won't really give you anything like what it's really like.

I would love to see this as a permanent installation - or at least an annual thing. It's just great.

There's one other exhibit, at Canary Wharf, which I haven't seen - a moving 'sinking ship' - anyone here seen it?

Beside The Seaside

National Maritime Museum

I didn't know this was on until a leaflet fell out of my copy of Time Out. This keeps happening. It drives me nuts that I have to find out about a local exhibition through a London-wide advertising strategy, when I walk past the place virtually every day.

Admittedly once I knew about it and had already decided to go, there was a poster for the show just outside the entrance - but most locals don't make a habit of walking right up to the entrance of the museum. I know they have a limited budget - and they need to direct most of it at tourists, but it's our museum too and a poster outside the gates where people actually pass wouldn't break the bank, surely? (If there is one, I haven't seen it...)

Beside the Seaside is an exhibition of photographs in the little exhibition area that used to house the Titanic stuff. It doesn't quite deliver what it promises, but is still worth a visit, if only to see just how similar to each other British resorts looked around the turn of the last century.

The bulk of the pictures come from the Frith collection - when the company ceased trading in 1971, a large number of negatives found their way to the museum and this is an attempt to show a small fraction of them.

It's billed as "snapshots of British coastal life, 1880 - 1950," which I took rather literally - that it would actually be 'snapshots,' probably by amateurs, of holidays and fishing, piers and seaside rock, spread over that whole period.

Instead, it tends to be landscapes and portraits, almost certainly by professionals, mainly, it would seem, taken around the Edwardian period. And there's no denying it's interesting with some of the shots stunning indeed.

The pictures are grouped in geographical areas, usually one photo per resort/coastal town, and do really tell a tale of another world - grizzled fishermen mending their lobster pots, grizzled women, probably much younger than they look, gutting fish, ladies in long black skirts and crisp white blouses, gigantic hats perched on their heads, taking the sea air in groups, their nannies following at an appropriate distance with perambulators.

There is much to enjoy. I particularly liked the dapper gent in blazer and straw boater, drinking-in the exotic air at Torquay, surrounded by palm trees and cacti. And I definitely have to take a trip to Gravesend now, to find out what happened to that gigantic white castle of a building on the promenade.

There's some fuzzy footage of newsreels and a couple of train posters - presumably to keep to the promise of the period reaching to the 1950s - and a case containing some Punch and Judy puppets for no other reason than, it seems, they were worried the pictures alone wouldn't be enough of a draw.

But I don't get the feeling that hearts were particularly in this exhibition. For a subject that should be uplifting and joyful - everyone loves the seaside, don't they? - to me it has a curiously downbeat feel. It is neither a wholly photographic piece, nor a proper 'exhibit.' Was cash tight? I find that hard to believe - the NMM has to be one of the richest museums we've got. It is a temporary exhibition, of course, but it has the feel of a temporary exhibition. That it's just filling in while they're waiting for the main attraction.


And what is the main attraction? Don't ask me. You'll just have to wait for a leaflet to fall out of Time Out...

London Bubble - Down But Not Out

Folks - things Chez Phantom are getting complicated, and I'm not going to make this one - but I really feel you should know about it.

Remember back to February when the Arts Council decided to pull funding from the London Bubble Theatre Company because - well, as far as I can see it wasn't enough up its own arse? We all feared the distinctive theatre was going to become extinct.

But no. They've rallied round. They received interim support from the Arts Council - and some more cash from Southwark (nothing from Greenwich, I note) and, although they've had to slice away at jobs and the park programme seems to be dead, they're coming up with other shows, one of which is happening over the next week or so.

I have absolutely no idea what Urban Dreams will entail, but with Jonathan Petherbridge at the helm, you can guarantee that it won't be what anyone expects anyway. Masks puppetry, projection and music - plus 150 Londoners. It might be rubbish. But it could just be really good.

It's certainly free. And you don't have to book. So if you're looking out of your window this evening and thinking you'd like to go out, hotfoot it down to the Laban Centre for 7.30pm. And if that's too far for you to go, it will reach Cutty Sark Gardens next Sunday 28th. Find more details here.

Oh - and if you make it do let me know what you think...

Rhodes Bakery

Not as in Gary - or, even less comfortably, Cecil, Rhodes Bakery is the answer to quite a few Greenwich prayers - an artisan bakery. We (well, ok, I) have been whinging for one for ages - we have butchers, greengrocers, fishmongers - and several delis (I'm very much looking forward to testing out the cafe at the back of the newly-refurbed Salumeria) but have suffered a paucity of bakers. And no. In no way does Greggs EVER count...

I was highly excited to find out that Rhodes, which has been tucked away behind the power station for yonks and supplying restaurants and bakers in town, but, unless there was some secret back-door system I never knew about, didn't sell locally. Now I notice there's a sign outside the bakery itself and the swanky shop in College Approach is well and truly open.

It's an awkward corner. Traffic whizzes past just that little bit too closely and there's no real outside space - but on the other hand it's clearly on view to all coming from the pier, the Cutty Sark and the ORNC. I love the natty canopies - they brighten that once-dead corner up before you even see the shop. I think - and hope it will do well. Let's face it - from students, if nothing else. All sudents eat buns. It's a fact.

Inside Rhodes is bright and modern, but with just enough cosy tradition to draw-in a greedy Phantom. A tower of muffins on a glass cake plate. Shelves of fancy breads, piles of scones and cakes, clouds of fluffy meringues in pink and white. Inside, there's a big glass-fronted counter with larger cakes and flans, tartes and tortes. Shelves with jams and pickles, specialty teas and coffees (a big thumbs-up for Union Coffee Roasters coffee) and a big barrel of oil where you can fill your own bottle.

But what flew out at me most was the guy behind the counter (not literally - that would have been creepy...) His welcome was as fresh as the cream on the scones, and his enthusiasm belied the fact that I was there about 6.30pm and he'd been up since 4.30am. The place is open a punishing 7.00am-7.00pm and, for the moment at least, he's there for all of it.

I haven't tested everything there yet. Aw - c'mon - it's only been open a couple of weeks. But what I have had has been extremely yummy. It has a few stools and a counter to sit at and stare out at the wheel, the ORNC and the traffic, and wonder just what those funky lamps are made of (I'm betting old salad-cream bottles) but I'd say this isn't really a place to count on having a coffee and a bun every time. It's just too small. There's nowhere for them to spill out onto the pavement, and the stools - though perfectly adequate - are not for a reflective cuppa.

No, this is a place to buy lovely bread, gorgeous cakes and splendid buns. I haven't noticed much 'everyday' bread - but given that I've never passed the place before midday (yeah, yeah, I'm a lazy old Phantom) it could be just that they've sold out by the time I'm up and about...

The guy told me they've been agonising over the prices - they want to make their goods special without frightening ordinary shoppers off. I'd be interested to hear your opinions. Personally I think £1.50 for an eat-in scone with clotted cream and jam is pretty damn good...

A word about the illustration for this piece. It's by local artist and illustrator, Sarah McIntyre, who has a fabulous drawn blog here. There's currently a long-running series based on the airship, but she often does Greenwich-y stuff. She also has a website that's well worth a visit.I hope to feature more of her work here from time to time - she really makes me smile...

Favourite Front Gardens (11)

Trinity Buoy Wharf,E14



We haven't had a favourite front garden for ages. Maybe this is because the weather's been so bloomin' duff that I haven't been out looking for them - or maybe nobody wants to do much in the way of primping and preening their greenery in the rain.

But I said I'd bang on about Trinity Buoy Wharf a bit more, and today, I want to show you what a bunch of creative people do with no fixed gardens.

Trinity Buoy Wharf (not actually in, but I like to think "honorary" Greenwich) was basically an experimental station built along the Thames to test out lighthouse technology before it was used in really dangerous areas. There are some fab stories about it - one of my favourites is where they'd fire up a new type of bulb and some poor sod would have to leg-it round to Shooters Hill to see if they could see the light - and famous people - Michael Faraday, no less, who worked there, but that's for another day. A dark winter's day, perhaps, when stories of bravery and derring-do on the high seas are all the more dramatic.

Trinity Buoy Wharf has a fascinating life these days too. It's inhabited by creative types - with wonderful installations and art projects (see Aluna for one of my favourites) - and a great diner - all of which I'll also get onto in good time. They warrant looking at in more detail than one post.

The place is a wonderful mix of the old - Victorian warehouses, light-ships and the lighthouse itself - and the new - a pile of containers, painted bright colours and inhabited by arty types. And there's nothing arty types like better than creating exciting plant projects.

All over the place pieces of art mingle with found objects, juxtaposed in curious ways, both inside and outside the workshops of potters, mosaic artists and sculptors. Strange inventions and old objets d'art and honest tools mingle together - and grow from and alongside plants. Gay annuals and bright bedding jostle with runner beans and courgette plants, tomatoes and herbs.

This place is great. On the first weekend of every month most of the installations are open, and it's best to go along then. It's currently a bit of a trek to get to - you have to either drive or go to Canning Town on the Jubilee and take a 15 minute walk. But occasionally, just occasionally, they have a "festival" day and there's a free boat service from the O2 - and if you see one of those advertised, GO. It's a great afternoon out. The website is a bit out of date - it's still advertising the last festival - but I checked London Open House Weekend and it's going to be open then.

Laura Williams, the artist responsible for Aluna, tells me that since the Thames Clippers are now based around there, they can pretty much hop on a Clipper any time they want to go across to Greenwich. Wouldn't it be great if there was a boat service every weekend the art is open?

Aluna

I get heartily fed up with Corporate Art - usually in sculpture-form, designed, effectively, by committee, even if it has a famous name attached to it, poorly executed and often just in the wrong bloomin' place (I don't, for example, disapprove of a statue of The Unknown Construction Worker - but what's it doing outside the Tower of London?)

Companies decide they want a piece of Art and put the job out to tender. Somehow it seems that it would be better that the art actually grew out of a moment of inspiration - from someone with something to say, rather than coming up with something that "will do," as long as it fits in with the corporate image.

Anyone who's been to Bluewater recently may have seen the uninspiring selection of submissions for the in-my-view-utterly-pointless Angel-Of-The South sculpture to be hoved up - around Ebsfleet, if I recall. The folks up North have their Angel - and, I'll admit, very fun it is too. But that doesn't mean we have to have one too (though of course anyone who was reading last week will remember this is not a new thing...)

In my humble opinion the best form of art grows from an artist's very soul - where they have absorbed what is around them, the issues they care about and the history and landscape that the art is to be in (and no I don't count the entry for the Angel of the South statue that looks exactly like a dodgy Kent scrap metal yard - I don't believe it's actually occurred to the guy...)

You could say that makes me a hopeless idealist and that sponsorship has gone on for centuries. Perhaps I am and of course it has. But Art where the artist actually has something to say does exist. What I don't get is why they don't seem to attract the kind of giant corporate sponsorship that the vacuous ones do...

If you haven't already met her, allow me to introduce you to Aluna.

She is (or might be, if they ever get the cash) the world's first tidal-powered Lunar Clock. A gigantic series of concentric glass rings, she's made out of thousands of tiny recycled glass panels each containing a little LED light. As the tide rises and falls, powering the lights, they illuminate various areas of the rings, telling the exact state of the tide - and the phase and time of the Moon. The relationship between the Moon and the tide have been vital to the Thames and to London for - well - for ever, actually, and this is a physical - and IMHO beautiful - representation of that.

It will be so big that, if it actually comes about, they'll be able to use the ground around the base (at the currently derelict East India Dock Basin across the river) as a park and place for festivals for people to whom the Moon is still a powerful religious/spiritual symbol.

I met Laura Williams, the artist who came up with this eccentric, but perfectly-placed and conceived project, when she opened her studio for all-comers over a weekend at Trinity Buoy Wharf a couple of weeks ago (an extraordinary place; I will be banging on about TBW at great length in sundry later posts) and she told me that she was desperate for it to go at the East India Dock Basin as part of the park, because it is so well-aligned with Greenwich and the Meridian, with all its time-space-maritime connections. We'd be able to see it glowing eerily from Greenwich Hill, but I don't see that this could be anything other than a thing of beauty.

There's something almost 'soft' about this giant, solid structure that I can see settling into the modern landscape with an almost timeless feel - a link with the past, the present and the future. Because it's powered by the moon, this isn't going to be arc-light-strength - it will be a much softer, gentler light - highlighting, rather than adding to the lighting pollution problem.

I utterly love this project. It helps that I've actually seen a model - the picture, which I've pinched from the website doesn't do it justice. There's another image which I can't find, which shows the fabulous Meridian laser clipping it (I do hope that that laser doesn't have to be turned off when they build that giant building on the Peninsula.)

The Aluna guys have development funding - but not the cash they need to build it. Even with all the Olympic "regeneration" going on north of the river, the project seems to be slipping under the radar, so to speak. If we don't get it, though, it's possible it will still be built but not quite so easily accessible. The Australians, apparently, are very keen to see it go Down Under...

Phantom Art

I'm having a bit of a Tony Hart Vision-On moment here. You really should be listening to The Gallery Theme (Left Bank 2 for the TV Geeks out there...) whilst looking at this, having clicked on the image to make it larger.

Methers has sent me the first-ever piece of dedicated Greenwich Phantom Art, which he created on Wordle using random moments from the blog in June (I guess that Benedict's rather splendid mixed-media montage from Toadhog Day might count as the very first, but I prefer to think of that as reportage...)

I'm chuffed to bits. The more you look at it the odder the choice of words - names, descriptions, thoughts. The Phantom is getting very conceited with all this attention. Any more art based on the blog? Send it my way, Baby...