The Mosaic Makers of Hoxton
Next time you are walking up Shepherdess Walk in Hoxton and you pass that sinister tunnel with the worn flagstones, leading under the shabby nineteenth century terrace, I recommend you take courage and pass through it to the park at the other end where a wonderful surprise awaits you.
For the last two years, artist Tessa Hunkin and around one hundred and fifty people have been working to create an elaborate set of mosaics in Shepherdess Walk Park, which are inaugurated with a party on Thursday this week. These breathtakingly beautiful pieces of work are destined to become an attraction in their own right – drawing people from far and wide to this corner of Hoxton – but before the crowds arrive, I had the pleasure of going over to admire them in the company of Tessa and couple of the stalwart mosaic makers, as they contemplate the completion of their mighty task which has transformed an unloved part of the park into an inspirational spot.
Taking the lyrical name of Shepherdess Walk as a starting point, the first mosaic portrays the shepherdesses that once drove their sheep through here when Hoxton was all fields. Next to this, a double wall panel illustrates park life throughout the seasons of the year in the East End while, underfoot, a pair of pavement mosaics show the wild flowers that persist, all illustrated in superb botanic detail. The quality of execution and subtle sense of colour in Tessa Hunkin’s designs combine with humorous observation of the detail of the social and the natural world to create works of lasting value which residents of Hoxton can enjoy for generations to come.
You will pleased to learn that after the success of the Shepherdess Walk mosaics, the team are already working on an ambitious new mosaic for Pitfield St, commemorating the Hoxton Palace of Varieties, and then Tessa and the mosaic makers will be moving to a studio in Hackney Downs to undertake a commission for a children’s playground.
Ken Edwards
“That’s my little rabbit, I named him ‘Randy.’ I’ve been coming here for over a year but, the first time, I thought it was something I wouldn’t be able to do. Yet Tessa showed me how to do it and I’ve been coming ever since. We work each Wednesday and Thursday afternoon, and every other Saturday when the youngsters from the Estate come to help. Even when you are not here, it’s what you think about. I live over in Well St and I walk here. Coming here, it helps with your sanity. We talk, we laugh, we joke. I love coming here, it’s very therapeutic, it’s a family atmosphere. I was a painter and decorator before and when you paint a flat that’s it, but this work that we’ve done is going to be here long after we’ve all gone and that’s very important to me.”
Katy Dixon
“I joined the summer before last. I am an artist and maker and I believe that art can heal people. We work as a group and enjoy the art of conversation together, and I imagine that’s how people would have worked on mosaics a long time ago in Pompeii. We like to listen to music while we work but it’s not always easy to find music that we can all agree upon. We tend to listen to reggae because it has an earthy quality.”
Tessa Hunkin
“We’ve made a little bit of Carthage here in Hoxton. I was inspired by the Roman mosaics of North Africa. It was my idea, I’ve been making mosaics for twenty-five years and I started working with people with mental health problems. I like working with groups of people on large compositions that they can be proud of. Mosaic-making is very time-consuming and laborious, so it seemed a good idea to work with people who have too much time, for whom filling time can be a problem. Also, I’m very interested in the historical precedents and that gives the work another dimension. This project started in July 2011 and it was going to be for six months but, when we came to end of the first mosaic nobody wanted the empty shop that is our workshop, so we just carried on.”
Nicky Turner
“When Tessa showed me the work, I thought it was interesting and I wanted to try but, originally, it was only going to be until the end of the year and now I’ve been here two years. I live in Stratford, two bus rides away, but I come two or three times a week. It’s always different here, so I never get bored. I worked on the borders, and I get satisfaction and self-esteem from doing this work.
Work in progress on the new Pitfield St mosaic, celebrating the former Hoxton Palace of Varieties
Nicky shows off his rings.
Ken with the poem he wrote about the mosaics
Katy with one of the sheep she will lead to the ceremony on Thursday, dressed as a shepherdess
The old tunnel from Shepherdess Walk that leads to the mosaics in the park.
Click on this image to enlarge
Click on this image to enlarge
All are welcome at the unveiling of the mosaics in Shepherdess Walk Park on Thursday 10th October at 3pm, preceded by refreshments from 2pm at the Community Hall on Murray Grove, Hoxton.
At Butler, Tanner & Dennis in Frome
Book Designer, David Pearson, with pages of The Gentle Author’s London Album
Everyone that loves books knows the name of Butler & Tanner, Britain’s oldest and foremost colour printer – established in Frome in 1845 and nowadays known as Butler, Tanner & Dennis. This was the printer that Allen Lane went to in 1935 to print Ariel, the first Penguin Book, and so it was my great delight to go down to Somerset with Book Designer, David Pearson, and Contributing Photographer, Patricia Niven, to see the pages of The Gentle Author’s London Album roll off the presses at the same print works.
We met at Paddington Station before dawn and the sun was just rising as the train sped through the West Country to deliver us to Frome, where we walked from the station to our destination in the aptly-named Caxton Rd. Upon arrival at the unexpectedly quiet print works, we were ushered into a waiting room and told that the first page would be ready shortly. Once we were led through into the factory we encountered the clamour of the machines, where vast presses – each one the size of whale – were spewing forth huge pages of print.
Here we met printers Paul Wrintmore and Clive Acres, and I saw pages of the Album for the first time, laid upon a brightly-lit table that simulated daylight. To my right, the great machine sat humming to itself with impatience as it waited to run off thousands of copies. But first we had to give our approval and I had to sign off the sheet. Each sheet contains twenty-four pages and here, in these unfamiliar surroundings, I was delighted to find my old friends The Dogs of Old London, The Pointe Shoe Makers, The Car Crashes of Clerkenwell and The Spitalfields Nippers. This was one of those moments when you confront something entirely familiar as if you are seeing it for the first time. It all looked well to me, with sharp details and good definition even within the darker areas of the pictures and, where there were flat areas of colour, the tones were even. I could find no flaw.
Yet I stood back, deferring to David Pearson as the design professional, and he leaned over close, casting his critical gaze upon his beautiful pages. The printers stood behind us, exchanging expectant glaces in silence. This was not a moment to discover a mistake and thankfully we did not find any. Most importantly, we were both satisfied with the quality of the printing and I signed the sheet, setting the great press in motion. After a tour of the factory, we came back to see the second sheet and were satisfied again and I signed it off too, content now to leave the rest of the book in the safe hands of the printers.
The early start and the emotionalism of the occasion caught up with us, and we were happy to climb back onto a train and, feeling relieved, we dozed all the way back to Paddington. Yet I took copies of each of the sheets of the Album with me as souvenirs and I have been examining them for errors ever since. I have not found any yet – but I am still looking.
W.T.Butler’s Steam Printing works in Frome, 1857
W.T. Butler, 1850
Early print specimen from Butler & Tanner
Joseph Tanner went into partnership with W.T. Butler in 1863
Early print specimen by Butler & Tanner
Butler & Tanner Print Works, 1905
Paper to print The Gentle Author’s London Album
Setting up the type, 1920
A special colour of ink mixed for The Gentle Author’s London Album
Adjusting the press, 1930
Pumping the ink to print The Gentle Author’s London Album
Typesetting, 1950
David Pearson inspects one of the plates to print The Gentle Author’s London Album
Printing machine, 1935
Heidelberg Speedmaster XL 162 printing press, standing by
Printing Works Beano, 1950
Paul Wrintmore, one of the printers of The Gentle Author’s London Album, with the first page
Plate making, 1950
Clive Acres, one of the printers of The Gentle Author’s London Album
Printing press, 1950
The first page of the Album to come off the press
Digital typesetting, 1970
David Pearson scrutinises the first page
Printing press, 1978
Sewn-together copies heading for the bindery
Digital printing, 1988
In the bindery
1912, Sherlock Holmes
1935, Ariel – the first Penguin Book
1950, The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe
1965, James Bond
2013, The Gentle Author’s London Album
Colour photographs copyright © Patricia Niven
Archive images courtesy of Butler, Tanner & Dennis
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Vegetable Bags from Leila’s Shop
When Contributing Photographer Patricia Niven subscribed to the weekly £10 bag of vegetables from Leila’s Shop in Calvert Ave, she had not counted upon the photographic inspiration that the contents would deliver. Leila McAlister goes to Covent Garden each Monday night to choose the best seasonal produce she can find and these bags comprise London’s freshest vegetables. Yet for the lucky recipients they provide not just nutritious fare but a changing calendar of the seasons of the year and a weekly reminder of the life of the fields.
Photographs copyright © Patricia Niven
Leila’s Shop, 15-17 Calvert Avenue, London E2 7JP
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At the Boys’ Club 89th Anniversary Dinner
Maxie Lea MBE, member since 1941
Maxie Lea, 1941
In recent years, it has been my privilege and delight to attend the annual dinner held by the Cambridge & Bethnal Green Boys’ Club in Russell Sq and this year Contributing Photographer Jeremy Freedman came along to take portraits of some of the boys.
Originally established in 1924 by undergraduates of Cambridge University as a Jewish Boys’ Club in Chance St, the Club opened its doors to everyone in 1936 in response to Oswald Mosely and his fascists in the East End. For the price of just halfpenny a week, boys from the Boundary Estate and the surrounding streets at the top of Brick Lane were able to attend every night and participate in sports and cultural activities that were designed to cultivate an egalitarian sense of decency and raise their expectations of life. As Ron Goldstein, who joined in the Club 1933, put it to me plainly, “Half of the boys would have ended up as the next generation of gangsters and criminals if it had not been for the Club.”
Such was the importance of the Club for its members that they still meet annually to celebrate it, even after all this time – because, rather than turn out as the next generation of gangsters and criminals, many did rather well by staying on the right side of the law, becoming company directors and executives. Most significantly, the bonds of friendship that were established all those years ago in the old East End have endured a lifetime, which renders these reunions as emotional occasions, coloured by sentiment and deeply-held affection and causing the boys to revert to their playful childhood personas.
Manny Silverman recalled how he walked through the blackout in 1944 to join the Club and the first person to greet him was Club Secretary Maxie Lea. Nearly seventy years later, Maxie Lea is still Club Secretary and was the first to greet Manny as he arrived at the dinner this year – such is the astonishing continuity of the Cambridge & Bethnal Green Boys’ Club.
Before the meal commences, grace is said and a moment of grave contemplation in silence is always observed as the names of those who have died in the previous year are remembered. Imagine the wonder and joy among so many senior gentlemen to discover there were no names to read out this year! It was a happy overture to yet another lively evening.
At each dinner, I ask couple of people if I may interview them during the coming months and the result is a growing collection of stories that record the lives of the Club members. Those I have written to date are listed below.
Monty Meth, member since 1938
Manny Silverman, member since 1944
Manny Silverman, 1944
Ron Goldstein, member since 1934
Ron Goldstein, 1934
Aubrey Goldsmith, member since 1938
John Platt, member since 1945
Aubrey Silkoff, member since 1951
Aubrey Silkoff, 1951
Des Gammon, member since 1941
Ron Davis, member since 1934
Dennis Frank, member since 1938
Alf Mendoza, member since 1933
Colour Photographs © Jeremy Freedman
Archive Photographs by Harry Tichener MRPS
You may also like to read my interviews with members of the Cambridge & Bethnal Green Boys’ Club
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Farewell to the Crispin St Night Shelter
“I am standing in the one-time women’s dormitory and have brought a photograph of my friend Peggy. Her husband had died and she could not bear to remain alone in her home surrounded by thoughts of him. Chance, desperation and loss brought many people to Providence Row, myself included, and its existence was a lifeline – a refuge from the ruthlessness of life.”
Providence Row, the night shelter for destitute men, women and children in Crispin St, opened in 1860 and operated until 2002 when it moved to new premises in Wentworth St, where it continues now as a day centre. Twenty years on, photographer Moyra Peralta, who worked at Providence Row in the seventies and eighties, returned to have a final look at the familiar rooms that had seen so much life and she took these evocative pictures published here for the first time.
Reconstructed and expanded to create an uneasy architectural hybrid, the building is now student housing for the London School of Economics, where once it housed Students of the London School of the Economics of Pennilessness. Famously, this was where James Mason came to interview those dignified gentlemen down on their luck in ‘The London Nobody Knows.’
Over one one hundred and forty years, Providence Row offered refuge to the poorest and most vulnerable of Londoners and, at the last moment before the building was gutted, Moyra went in search of the residue of their hope and despair, their yearning and their loneliness. She found a sacred space resonant with echoes of the past and graven with the tell-tale marks of those who had passed through.
Peggy
Memorial plaque to the opening of Providence Row in 1860
The yard where Roman skeletal remains were excavated
Looking towards the City of London
HE WHO OPENS THIS DOOR SHALL BE CURSED FOR A HUNDRED AND ONE YEARS
Former women’s dormitory
Women’s dormitory in the sixties
This free-standing disconnected facade is still to be seen in Artillery Lane
Gerry B
“I am struck by the notion that with a careless step or two, I too might meet a premature end as I circumnavigate holes in floors and gaping apertures in walls.”
The room where Moyra Peralta slept when she worked at Providence Row and where she wrote these words – “Only the present is real – for some reason I feel this most of all when listening to the lorries moving at the street’s end and the slamming of crates being unloaded in Crispin St. There is a rhythm to the deep sound of the slow low-thrumming engines that I like to contemplate. On sleep-over, rising early from my bed following the refuge nightshift, I watch what is now – 6:00am. A thousand cameos change and regroup under my gaze. Jammed traffic forms and reforms where the roads meet.”
Photographs copyright © Moyra Peralta
You may also like to read these other stories about the Crispin St Night Shelter
The Doss Houses of Spitalfields
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The Gentle Author’s Pub Crawl
Feeling in need of exercise and refreshment, I set out on a walk to visit some favourite pubs along the way and I took my camera with me too.
Mitre Taven, Hatton Garden, opened 1546
George & Vulture, City of London, opened 1600
Bust of Dickens in the dining room at the George & Vulture
Jamaica Wine House, City of London, opened 1660
The Blackfriar, Blackfriars, opened 1905
The Old Bell, Fleet St, opened in the sixteen-seventies
The Punch Tavern, Fleet St, opened 1839
Old Cheshire Cheese, Wine Office Court, opened 1538
Ship Tavern, Gate St, opened 1549
Cittie of Yorke, Holborn, opened 1696
Seven Stars, Carey St, opened 1602
The Lamb & Flag, Rose St, opened 1623
At the Lamb & Flag
The Anchor, Bankside, where Samuel Pepys watched the Fire of London
The George, Borough High St, opened in the fourteenth century
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Remembering A S Jasper
Albert Stanley Jasper
“The initials stand for Albert Stanley, but he was always know as Stan, never Albert,” admitted Terry Jasper, speaking of his father when we met at F. Cooke’s Pie & Mash Shop in Hoxton Market recently. A.S. Jasper’s A Hoxton Childhood is one of the classic East End childhood autobiographies, acclaimed since it was first published in 1969 when The Observer described it as “Zola without the trimmings,” and Terry is understandably proud to welcome a new edition this month.
“In the late sixties, my mum and dad lived in a small ground floor flat. Looking out of the window onto the garden one morning, he saw a tramp laying on the grass who had been there all night. My dad took him out a sandwich and a cup of tea, and told him that he wouldn’t be able to stay there,” Terry recalled, “I think most people in that situation would have just phoned the police and left it at that.” It is an anecdote that speaks eloquently of Stan Jasper’s compassionate nature, informing his writing and making him a kind father, revered by his son all these years later.
Yet it is in direct contrast to the brutal treatment that Stan received at the hands of his own alcoholic father William, causing the family to descend in a spiral of poverty as they moved from one rented home to another, while his mother Lily struggled heroically against the odds to maintain domestic equilibrium for her children. “My grandmother, I only met her a couple of times, but once I was alone with her in the room and she said, ‘Your dad, he was my best boy, he took care of me.'” Terry remembered.
“There are a million things I’d like to have asked him when he was alive but I didn’t,” Terry confided to me, contemplating his treasured copy of his father’s book that sat on the table between us, “My dad died in 1970, he was sixty-five – It was just a year after publication but he saw it was a success.”
“When he was a teenager, he was a wood machinist and the sawdust got on on his lungs and he got very bad bronchitis. When I was eight years old, the doctor told him he must give up his job, otherwise the dust would kill him. My mum said to him that this was something he had to do and he just broke down. It was very strange feeling, because I didn’t think then that grown-ups cried.”
Stan started his own business manufacturing wooden cases for radios in the forties, employing more than seventy people at one point until it ran into difficulties during the credit squeeze of the fifties. Offered a lucrative buy-out, Stan turned it down out of a concern that his employees might lose their jobs but, shortly after, the business went into liquidation. “He should have thought of his family rather his workers,” commented Terry regretfully, “He lost his factory and his home and had to live in a council flat for the rest of his life.”
“My dad used to talk about his childhood quite a lot, he never forgot it – so my uncle said, ‘Why don’t you write it all down?’ And he did, but he tried to get it published without success. Then a friend where I worked in the City Rd took it to someone he knew in publishing, and they really liked it and that’s how it got published. When the book came out in 1969, he wanted to go back to Hoxton to see what was still left, but his health wasn’t good enough.”
Terry ‘s memories of his father’s struggles are counterbalanced by warm recollections of family celebrations.“He always enjoyed throwing a party, especially if he was in the company of my mother’s family. It wasn’t easy obtaining beer and spirits during the warm but somehow he managed to find a supply. He was always generous where money was concerned, sometimes to a fault, and he had a nice voice and didn’t need much persuading to get up and sing a song or two.”
A.S. Jasper’s ‘A Hoxton Childhood’ is an authentic and compelling story of survival and of the triumph of a protagonist who retains his sense of decency against all the odds. “He said he would always settle for the way life turned out,” Terry concluded fondly.
Terry Jasper at F Cooke in Hoxton Market
Cover design for the first edition of A Hoxton Childhood drawn by James Boswell
William Jasper – “His main object in life was to be continually drunk”
Lily Jasper – “I asked her what made her marry a man like my father”
Stan (on the right) with his brother Fred
Stan and his wife Lydia
Terry as a boy
Terry in 1960
Terry with his dad Stan
Stan and his sister Flo
Stan
Terry with Stan & Lydia at Christmas
High jinks at a family Christmas party
A S Jasper – “So, out of so disastrous a childhood, I am now surrounded, in spite of poor health, with love and happiness.”
