Israel Bidermanas’ London
.Click here to book your tour tickets for Saturday 8th March and beyond
Lithuanian-born Israel Bidermanas (1911-1980) first achieved recognition under the identity of Izis for his portraits of members of the French resistance that he took while in hiding near Limoges at the time of the German invasion. Encouraged by Brassai, he pursued a career as a professional photographer in peacetime, fulfilling commissions for Paris Match and befriending Jacques Prévert and Marc Chagall. He and Prévert were inveterate urban wanderers and in 1952 they published ‘Charmes de Londres,’ delivering this vivid and poetic vision of the shabby old capital in the threadbare post-war years.
In the cemetery of St John, Wapping
Milk cart in Gordon Sq, Bloomsbury
At Club Row animal market, Spitalfields
The Nag’s Head, Kinnerton St, SW1
In Pennyfields, Limehouse
Palace St, Westminster
Ties on sale in Ming St, Limehouse
Greengrocer, Kings Rd, Chelsea
Diver in the London Docks
Organ Grinder, Shaftesbury Ave, Piccadilly
Sphinx, Chiswick Park
Hampden Crescent, W2
Underhill Passage, Camden Town
Braithwaite Arches, Wheler St, Spitalfields
East India Dock Rd, Limehouse
Musical instrument seller, Petticoat Lane
Grosvenor Crescent Mews, Hyde Park Corner
Unloading in the London Docks
London Electricity Board Apprentices
On the waterfront at Greenwich
Tower Bridge
Photographs courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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Peta Bridle’s Shops

In her latest series of drawings done on location, Peta Bridle has cast her attention upon shops.
Her exhibition DRAWN TO LONDON opens this Wednesday 26th February and runs until Tuesday 25th March at the Back To Ours Cafe, Good Shepherd Building, 15A Davies Lane, Leytonstone, E11 3RR. 7:30am – 4pm daily.

Leadenhall Market, City of London
The ironwork of Horace Jones’ fine 1881 market building is painted red and cream with dragons on the top, and lit by large glass lamps. Built as a poultry market, the last butcher closed just ten years ago.
Leadenhall has been a centre of trade for centuries with a lead-roofed market building standing here since 1321. Beneath the market are the remains of the Roman forum where commercial and legal business were conducted. Ruins of the forum may be visited in the basement of one of the shops today.

Gardners’ Bags, Leyton
Paul Gardner’s family ran their market sundries shop in Commercial St, Spitalfields from 1870 until just before the pandemic when they relocated to Leyton. Plastic bags hang like bunting overhead and rolls of fluorescent stickers are stacked on the original wooden counter. Paul stands with a large set of green scales in front of him and his old greengrocers’ fruit and vegetable signs displayed behind. It is always a pleasure to visit the charismatic Paul Gardner, the paper bag baron of the East End.

Citywear Independent Gent’s Outfitters, Wentworth St
Citywear Independent Gent’s Outfitters is on a corner in Petticoat Lane Market. Broken lettering clings to the faded black-painted brickwork and rails of clothing are wheeled in and out every day. In recent years, a fashionable speakeasy known as ‘Discount Suit Company’ has opened in the basement serving cocktails.

Arber & Co Ltd, Printers & Stationers, Roman Rd
I met Gary Arber some years ago at his shop. In the basement, down a flight of stairs, was the family print works which had operated since 1897. The glass cabinets in the shop, from when they once sold toys, were stuffed full of paper and notepads, pens and books, and there was string hanging down from the ceiling and boxes of paper stacked in every available space. Note the old Scalextric poster stuck to the front of the wooden counter. Gary retired in 2014, his shop is no more and last time I passed it had become a nail bar.

A1 Car Care Centre, Bethnal Green
Located off Three Colts Lane in Bethnal Green is the A1 Car Care Centre. Hand painted signage in bold blue type on yellow brickwork advertises their services – Tyres! Punctures! Tracking! Servicing!

W G Ford, Poyser St, Bethnal Green
Just an old metal sign left on the wall reveals that this was once the workshop of W.G. Ford Sheet Metal & Steelworkers. I love all the beautiful textures, the graffiti covered brickwork of the railway arch, the cobbled and uneven setts in the road, and the corrugated iron walls.

Bonners Fish Bar, Walthamstow
I made this drawing from across the road. Whilst I was there, people were coming along to admire the new painting by Banksy of two hungry pelicans helping themselves to fish that he did as part of his animal series in 2024.

Tile Mart, Hackney
This beautiful old premises was once a buildings materials supplier. I love the faded paintwork with its fragmentary signage.

MA Soda Ltd, Brixton Market
This busy greengrocer is located in the indoor market. Painted bright green and yellow, a giraffe adorns one side of the doorway and tree branches reach over the other. While I was drawing, the display was constantly changing as fruit and vegetables disappeared into baskets, and new boxes were opened and produce restocked.

Manze’s Pie & Mash, Deptford
Drawn during the last week of trading after more than a century, there was a continual flow of customers and well-wishers. A man told me he remembered sitting on his mother’s knee in Manze’s when he was three. ‘It’s in the blood,’ he told me, ‘It’s important we don’t forget places like this. I am eighty now and I’ve come today with my son.’ The shopfront is green with a black glass sign and gold lettering while white letters on the window declare ‘Meal in a Moment – Manze’s Meat Pies – All Made Daily.’

Manze’s Pie & Mash, Deptford
Manze’s was founded between 1890 and 1914 by Michele Manze who came from Italy in 1878. Until January of this year it was ran by his grandson George Manze until he retired. I sat at the back to sketch the comings and goings while George served his customers at the front. The building is Grade II listed, with an interior lined with marble-topped tables and wooden high-back benches and tiled walls. It was always a popular place to eat before Millwall matches.

Medici Gallery, South Kensington
The Medici Gallery is a greetings card gallery which has traded from this shop since the thirties and every month the window has a beautiful new display. After almost century, this celebrated landmark is now being evicted as part of the redevelopment of South Kensington Station and the handsome Victorian terrace will be facaded. When I visited last summer the window celebrated Van Gogh and his sunflowers.

Medici Gallery, South Kensington
The basement kitchen is full of recycled and salvaged treasures with a window looking onto a tiny garden painted in bright colours, full of pots, parrots, lights and ornaments, which customers can peek down into from above through a skylight.

Word On The Water, London Book Barge, Regent’s Canal, Kings Cross
This is a floating bookshop housed inside a twenties Dutch barge near Granary Sq. New and used books are displayed on shelves, both on deck and below. Inside the boat there are comfortable sofas where you can sit and browse while viewing ducks swimming past at eye level. I sat on the towpath to draw while a trumpeter played jazz up on deck.

Lisle Street, Chinatown
The curve of Lisle Street is filled with Chinese restaurants, cafes and a supermarket. Red lanterns strung across the street bob in the breeze sending their gold tails fluttering. It was busy with tourists and tradespeople but somehow I managed to find a space for my little stool while I did this drawing.

Chinese cakes
A selection of cakes from bakeries in Chinatown. The top two moon cakes represent family reunions and happiness when families gather to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival. Taiyaki, the fish-shaped cake, is made of made of pancake batter and filled with azuki paste (sweetened red beans). After I had done my drawing, I got to eat my still life with a cup of tea.
Drawings copyright © Peta Bridle
Follow Peta Bridle on Instagram
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Peta Bridle’s London Viewpoints
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Peta’s exhibition is open from from Wednesday 26th February until Tuesday 25th March, the Back To Ours Cafe, Good Shepherd Building, 15A Davies Lane, Leytonstone, E11 3RR.
Introducing Walter Donohue
It is my pleasure to give you some background to Walter Donohue who is teaching our Screenwriting Course on 5th & 6th April at Townhouse, Spitalfields. We have a few places available. Email spitalfieldslife@gmail.com to book
CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFORMATION

Walter Donohue typing out edited script pages on set for ‘Orlando’ in St Petersburg, 1992
Introduction by filmmaker Joel Coen –
‘Not only is Walter a steady friend and a discerning intellect, he has also carved out a space in the movie business that no one else really occupies. In the theatre you would call it a ‘dramaturg’—a creative advisor to the director, both from a literary and a production point of view. This position doesn’t exist in the movie business. At least not officially. I can’t say that there aren’t legions of people who are eager to analyse and offer an opinion, but I will say that there are precious few that are so consistently right. You might call Walter a ‘movie whisperer’.’
Here is Walter Donohue’s own account of his extraordinary transatlantic journey to London where he has worked in theatre and film as a director, producer, editor and publisher for half a century –
‘In May 1967, I was on the verge of graduating from the theatre department of the Catholic University of America in Washington D.C. and start a job as an assistant director at Arena Stage when the Vietnam War suddenly escalated and all us guys were immediately eligible to be drafted. What the hell was I going to do? The only way out was to stay in school. I applied for a Fulbright scholarship to go to Bristol University and study theatre but I did not get the award and I was facing the prospect of being sent to Vietnam, so I contacted Bristol directly and ended up going anyway. Five of my fellow students were drafted and two died in Vietnam, so it really was a matter of life or death.
When I finished my degree, I hoped I would be able to jump into regular employment as a theatre director but that turned out to be difficult because directors had to be members of the union, which was reluctant to let in an American. I figured I had no alternative except to return to America but then, out of the blue, I heard that that Charles Marowitz needed an assistant at the Open Space Theatre in London. Some British people had tried the job and could not get on with him, so they thought that perhaps an American might stand a better chance.
For Charles, actors were just objects to push around on the stage. He did not seem to give much thought to the inner lives of the characters. In 1972, I was assistant director on a production of Sam Shepard’s The Tooth of Crime, and when Charles left town to do his version of Hamlet in Denmark, I took over and worked with the actors.
I asked Sam, who was living in London, to come in and watch a run-through, which he absolutely hated. He felt that the actors were moving around in a way that had nothing to do with the dramatic situation they were meant to be playing. ‘But that’s how Charles directed it,’ I said. ‘OK,’ said Sam, ‘I don’t want anything to do with this. I’m going home.’
Obviously, the production should somehow embody his intentions as a playwright, so I sat him down, asked what was wrong and we set about re-blocking the entire play. The actors clearly felt a sense of relief. We were all so pleased with ourselves, but when Charles got back into town and watched what we had done, he threw out all our work.
While Sam was still living in London, I set up a production of Cowboy Mouth, which Sam had co-written with Patti Smith. It was in a small, basement theatre, just Sam, me, and the two actors. No sense of hierarchy, no egos—just commitment to the vision of the writer.
I spent ten years as a theatre director focussing entirely on new writing. I had not realised at the time that the interactions I had with playwrights gave me the skills that came to fruition when I was asked to work at Channel 4. David Rose who had been head of drama at BBC Birmingham offered me a job as his assistant.
This was before Channel 4 began broadcasting. David and I imagined that as soon as we opened the door to our office, scripts would come pouring in, but that did not happen. People just did not know about it, so we scrambled to start commissioning scripts. I thought we should commission novelists. The first I approached was Neil Jordan, he had a script to hand—what became Angel. We also commissioned Angela Carter to write the screenplay of her version of Red Riding Hood, The Company of Wolves, which ended up becoming Neil’s next film after Angel.
Eventually people started sending their scripts to us. If I liked them, I would forward them to David, and if he liked them, they would come back to me because they always needed work. I became involved in the production of various films from their inception, which included going with David to the sets and watching these films being made, then looking at the various cuts with David when the films were in postproduction.
I encouraged David to support Paris, Texas, partly because Sam Shepard was the writer. Paris, Texas winning the Palme d’Or at Cannes really put Channel 4 on the map. I was sort of the script editor. Wim and Sam began with a stack of paper with the basic scene descriptions on them: Scene 1: Travis walking through the desert. Scene 2: Travis walks into a bar. That’s all they wrote, all the way to the end. Once they had done that, they went back and filled out each scene. Scene 1: Travis walking through the desert. Stops. Drinks from a carton. Throws it away. Walks off. Scene 2: Travis goes into a bar to find something to drink. He eats some ice and faints. That kind of thing. Wim and Sam felt that the best way to conceive the film on paper was to represent the story in terms of what was seen, not what was heard. Because Channel 4 was the main financier, I spent a week with Wim in Los Angeles because Sam, at that stage, was beginning to send the dialogue. Then I visited Berlin when Wim was in postproduction.
When we were looking for novelists to commission, I came across a thriller called In the Secret State by Robert McCrum. I thought he was the new Le Carré, so I went to meet him. It turned out he was working at Faber as its editorial director and he introduced me to the chief executive, Matthew Evans, who immediately said I should come work at Faber. I said I was not interested in publishing, I wanted to work in movies so he said, ‘Listen, British films only shoot at certain times of the year because of the weather. I will give you a desk and typewriter and a telephone, and can you start building Faber’s film list. When you are not here, when you’re working on a film, someone else from the company will look after things.’
In the beginning, most of the film books never made money. But then, in 1994, we published the screenplay of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, and it sold more than a hundred thousand copies. Tarantino had never gone to film school, so every eighteen-year-old thought they could be a filmmaker if they watched enough videos. But what gave Tarantino’s films their impact was their original structure and the music of the dialogue—which meant that neophyte filmmakers needed to read screenplays. They became teaching tools, of a kind, and in the wake of Pulp Fiction there was a huge spike in the sale of screenplays, as well as our interview books with filmmakers.
If I look back, the thing that is consistent, whether I was working in the theatre or at Channel 4 or at Faber, it is all more or less the same thing – dealing with writers, helping them get their work out there. I certainly enjoy the process. When a writer sends me their scripts, my response is based entirely on instinct, honed over the years. And I never made statements, I never imposed anything. I only ever asked the writers questions, to see if I could draw out from them anything that would clarify their intentions. Given the diversity of the filmmakers who approached Channel 4 for money, the best approach was just to respond to the originality of the writers.’

Burdekin’s London Nights

East End Riverside
As you will have realised by now, I am a night bird. In the mornings, I stumble around in a bleary-eyed stupor of incomprehension and in the afternoons I wince at the sun. But as darkness falls my brain begins to focus and, by the time others are heading to their beds, then I am growing alert and settling down to write.
Once I used to go on night rambles – to the railway stations to watch them loading the mail, to the markets to gawp at the hullabaloo and to Fleet St to see the newspaper trucks rolling out with the early editions. These days, such nocturnal excursions are rare unless for the sake of writing a story, yet I still feel the magnetic pull of the dark city streets beckoning, and so it was with a deep pleasure of recognition that I first gazed upon this magnificent series of inky photogravures of “London Night” by Harold Burdekin from 1934 in the Bishopsgate Library.
For many years, it was a subject of wonder for me – as I lay awake in the small hours – to puzzle over the notion of whether the colours which the eye perceives in the night might be rendered in paint. This mystery was resolved when I saw Rembrandt’s “Rest on the Flight into Egypt” in the National Gallery of Ireland, perhaps finest nightscape in Western art.
Almost from the beginning of the medium, night became a subject for photography with John Adams Whipple taking a daguerrotype of the moon through a telescope in 1839, but it was not until the invention of the dry plate negative process in the eighteen eighties that night photography really became possible. Alfred Stieglitz was the first to attempt this in New York in the eighteen nineties, producing atmospheric nocturnal scenes of the city streets under snow.
In Europe, night photography as an idiom in its own right begins with George Brassaï who depicted the sleazy after-hours life of the Paris streets, publishing “Paris de Nuit” in 1932. These pictures influenced British photographers Harold Burdekin and Bill Brandt, creating “London Night” in 1934 and “A Night in London” in 1938, respectively. Harold Burdekin’s work is almost unknown today, though his total eclipse by Bill Brandt may in part be explained by the fact that Burdekin was killed by a flying bomb in Reigate in 1944 and never survived to contribute to the post-war movement in photography.
More painterly and romantic than Brandt, Burdekin’s nightscapes propose an irresistibly soulful vision of the mythic city enfolded within an eternal indigo night. How I long to wander into the frame and lose myself in these ravishing blue nocturnes.
Black Raven Alley, Upper Thames St
Street Corner
Temple Gardens
London Docks
From Villiers St
General Post Office, King Edward St
Leicester Sq
Middle Temple Hall
Regent St
St Helen’s Place, Bishopsgate
George St, Strand
St Botolph’s and the City
St Bartholomew’s Hospital, Smithfield
Images courtesy © Bishopsgate Institute
You might like to read these other nocturnal stories
On Christmas Night in the City
Night at the Brick Lane Beigel Bakery
Night at The Spitalfields Market, 1991
Remembering Joan Lauder, Cat Lady Of Spitalfields
Joan Lauder, The Cat Lady of Spitalfields (1924-2011)
In recent years, the Cat Lady of Spitalfields has become a legendary figure in East End lore, acquiring an entire mythology of stories as time goes by. In my imagination, she is a mysterious feline spirit in human form that prowls the alleys and back streets – a self-appointed guardian of the stray cats and a lonely sentinel embodying the melancholy soul of the place.
Imagine my delight to discover that Clive Murphy, the Oral Historian who lived above the Aladin Curry House, befriended her and recorded her entire biography over many months in 1991. I learnt the Cat Lady has a name, Joan Lauder, and in Clive’s portrait above you see her sitting in his kitchen at 132 Brick Lane, dictating into a tape recorder and looking uncannily feline in her dappled grey fur coat.
Although she was widely assumed to have died when she vanished from Spitalfields towards the end of the last century, in fact Joan Lauder lived in a series of homes from 1995 until her death in 2011. Clive remained in contact with Joan and was one of her only two regular visitors right up to the end. Over the twenty years they knew each other, an unlikely and volatile friendship grew between Clive & Joan based upon mutual curiosity.
Today I publish some of the photographs that Clive took when he accompanied Joan on her rounds back in the early nineties, tending to the feral creatures of Spitalfields that no-one else loved.
At Angel Alley, Whitechapel, 5th March 1992
Feeding the cat from The White Hart in Angel Alley, 5th March 1992
In Gunthorpe St, 5th March 1992
Buying cat food at Taj Stores, Brick Lane, 3rd August 1992
In Wentworth St, 3rd August 1992
Calling a cat, Bacon St, 3rd August 1992
The cat arrives, Bacon St, 3rd August 1992
Alley off Hanbury St, 2nd August 1992
Hanbury St, 26th November 1995
At Aldgate East, 3rd August 1992
At Lloyds, Leadenhall St, 3rd August 1992
Walking from Angel Alley into Whitechapel High St, 3rd August 1992
Beware Of The Pussy, 132 Brick Lane, 26th November 1995
Clive visits Joan in her Nursing Home, 1995
ANGEL OF THE SHADOWS, The Life of the Cat Woman of Spitalfields
The women I have loved you could count upon the digits of one hand – my mother, her mother, our loyal companion Maureen McDonnell, the poet Patricia Doubell and the demented, incontinent Joan Lauder, the Cat Lady of Spitalfields who, in 1991, when I first spoke to her was already my heroine, a day-and-night-in-all-weathers Trojan, doggedly devoting herself to cats because human beings had for too long failed her. She looked at me with suspicion when I suggested we tape record a book. Only my bribe that half of any proceeds of publication would fall to her or her favoured charities and enable the purchase of extra tins of cat food persuaded her at least to humour me. I could swear I saw those azure eyes, set in that pretty face, dilate. I had entrapped her with the best of intentions as she, I was to learn, often entrapped, also with the best of intentions, the denizens of the feral world to have them spayed or neutered in the interests of control. But to the end, her end, I don’t think she ever trusted or respected me. I once found her surreptitiously laying down Whiskas in my hallway for my own newly-adopted cat which I named Joan in her honour. And she once spat the expletive ‘t***’ at me in a tone of total dismissal. To be called a foolish and obnoxious person was hardly comforting, given that I believe my own adage ‘in dementia veritas’ holds all too often true.
– Clive Murphy
Clive’s cat ‘Joan’ in his kitchen, 6th July 1996
Mustakim and Joan, 11th April 1998
Joan on the rooftops of Brick Lane, 21st February 1996
Mullah’s pupil with Joan, 10th April 2001
15th June 1995
Photographs copyright © Estate of Clive Murphy
You may like to read my other stories about Joan Lauder
Remembering the Cat Lady of Spitalfields
and take a look at my other stories about Clive Murphy
Spring Bulbs At Bow Cemetery

Seduced by promises of spring, I decided to return to Bow Cemetery to see if the bulbs were showing yet. Already I have some snowdrops, hellebores and a few primroses in flower in my Spitalfields garden, but at Bow I was welcomed by thousands of crocuses of every colour and variety spangling the graveyard with their gleaming flowers. Beaten and bowed, grey-faced and sneezing, coughing and shivering, the harsh winter has taken it out of me, but seeing these sprouting bulbs in such profusion restored my hope that benign weather will come before too long.
Some of my earliest crayon drawings are of snowdrops, and the annual miracle of bulbs erupting out of the barren earth never ceases to touch my heart – an emotionalism amplified in a cemetery to see life spring abundant and graceful in the landscape of death. The numberless dead of East London – the poor buried for the most part in unmarked communal graves – are coming back to us as perfect tiny flowers of white, purple and yellow, and the sober background of grey tombs and stones serves to emphasis the curious delicate life of these vibrant blooms, glowing in the sunshine.
Here within the shelter of the old walls, the bulbs are further ahead than elsewhere the East End and I arrived at Bow Cemetery just as the snowdrops were coming to an end, the crocuses were in full flower and the daffodils were beginning. Thus a sequence of flowers is set in motion, with bulbs continuing through until April when the bluebells will come leading us through to the acceleration of summer growth, blanketing the cemetery in lush foliage again.
As before, I found myself alone in the vast cemetery save a few Magpies, Crows and some errant squirrels, chasing each other around. Walking further into the woodland, I found yellow winter aconites gleaming bright against the grey tombstones and, crouching down, I discovered wild Violets in flower too. Beneath an intense blue sky, to the chorus of birdsong echoing among the trees, spring was making a showing.
Stepping into a clearing, I came upon a Red Admiral butterfly basking upon a broken tombstone, as if to draw my attention to the text upon it, “Sadly Missed,” commenting upon this precious day of sunshine. Butterflies are rare in the city in any season, but to see a Red Admiral, which is a sight of high summer, in February is extraordinary. My first assumption was that I was witnessing the single day in the tenuous life of this vulnerable creature, but in fact the hardy Red Admiral is one of the last to be seen before the onset of frost and can emerge from months of hibernation to enjoy single days of sunlight. Such is the solemn poetry of a lone butterfly in winter.
The spring bulbs are awakening from their winter sleep.
Snowdrops
Crocuses
Dwarf Iris
Winter Aconites
Daffodils will be in flower next week.
A single Red Admiral butterfly, out of season in mid-February – “sadly missed”
Find out more at Friends of Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park
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Cecil Osborne’s Murals At Camden Town Hall
In 2018 I met Dr Kaori O’Connor who rescued these paintings by East End artist Cecil Osborne (1909-96) and she asked me to help her get them reinstated in Camden Town Hall.
The attention that Spitalfields Life brought to the panels persuaded Camden Council to reacquire them in 2019. But Dr O’Connor died in 2022 and did not live to see her wish fulfilled, so it was a poignant pilgrimage I made yesterday to see the paintings, newly cleaned and framed, hung in the Registrar’s Office at the Town Hall.
St Pancras & Kings Cross, 1956 (Click to enlarge)
Camden, Highgate & Hampstead, 1958 (Click to enlarge)
Bloomsbury & Fitzrovia, 1965 (Click to enlarge)
In 2016, David Buckman author of From Bow to Biennale, the history of the East London Group of painters, took me to meet anthropologist Dr Kaori O’Connor at her flat on the top floor of an old mansion block near Bedford Sq.
There was an air of mystery about David’s invitation and I was excited because he promised to show me three important lost murals by East End artist Cecil Osborne illustrating the history of the former London Borough of St Pancras. Let me confess, I was not disappointed to encounter this splendid triptych.
Cecil Osborne was born in Poplar in 1909 and, after studying at a commercial college, sought clerical work. Yet he had artistic talent and educated himself in art by reading books and visiting galleries. After viewing the East London Group exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery in 1928, Cecil presented his work to the leader of the Group, John Cooper, and joined Cooper’s art classes at the Bow & Bromley Institute. As a consequence, Cecil exhibited around thirty of his paintings in East London Group exhibitions from 1929 until 1936, as well as supplying his clerical skills as secretary and treasurer of the Group.
In writing his book, David Buckman spent more that twenty years researching the lost history of the East London Group which had become dispersed after the Second World War. When David corresponded with Cecil in the last years of his life, after he had retired to Spain, David learnt of three murals which Cecil had painted for St Pancras Town Hall – now Camden Town Hall – that had been removed from their original location and subsequently lost.
Cecil’s son Dorian Osborne supplied this description:
“The offer was from my father to supply three pictures painted in oils depicting the history of the Borough on canvases to be hung in the small Assembly Room at St Pancras Town Hall in Euston Rd. The council supplied the materials and father designed and painted the series which are six feet by six feet square.
We were living at 46 Belsize Sq at the time and that is where the first was painted, the work commencing in, I seem to recall, 1956 or thereabouts. My brother and I were used as artist’s models for some of the children depicted. Also there are two rather ragged children shown in some sections which were based on the Bisto advertisement – for example, in one panel, pushing a hand-cart. The motorcar depicted in the illustration of the Doric Arch at Euston Station is a Triumph Gloria.
In 1958, we moved to 7 Redston Rd, N8, and that is where the second panel was completed and the third executed. It is the third which shows the Post Office Tower, as it was in progress when Mary and I married in 1965 and she remembers seeing this panel in the house. At a later date, the council moved all three to the public lending library in Brecknock Rd near Kentish Town from where they were moved into storage.”
After David’s book was published, Dr Kaori O’Connor contacted him to say she had the murals, as she explained to me:
“I did not acquire the paintings so much as rescue them. They turned up in a weekly sale at the old Phillips auction rooms in Bayswater in the nineteen-nineties. Not a picture sale, but a general one, thrown in with furniture and oddments.
I saw one of the canvas panels poking out from behind a fridge. The Phillips staff knew nothing about their background and did not know what to make of them. I realised that some of the places featured in the paintings were near to where I live in Bloomsbury and knew I had to save them. If they had failed to sell, they would have been scrapped. As I recall, there were no other bidders.
Once I got them home, I realised they were a unique social history of a part of London that is rapidly changing out of recognition, while also acquiring a new cultural and artistic life today. Only recently, when I met David Buckman, I learned about the artist Cecil Osborne, his life and how the panels came to be painted for the old St Pancras Borough Council which no longer exists.
I had the panels for some twenty years, and they were as fresh and fascinating as the day I first saw them. They have a unique presence with a very strong sense of time and place, and tell their many stories eloquently. They are also very good company.
They were painted for a public space, intended to be seen by many people, so I would like them to find a new home where they can be widely appreciated as the remarkable artworks they are. I believe the past they depict can only enrich the present and future.“

St Pancras Town Hall, now Camden Town Hall, where Cecil Osborne’s murals originally hung and where they are now displayed once more.
Paintings photographed by Lucinda Douglas Menzies
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Dorothy Annan’s Murals at the Barbican
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