Janet Brooke’s East End Screenprints
Janet Brooke documented the changing East End streetscape through the eighties and nineties in an ambitious series of large screenprints, which are now exhibited at the Orso Major Gallery in Lower Marsh, Waterloo, until 29th November.
“I moved to the East End in the mid-seventies – at first squatting in Whitechapel, but eventually graduating to Bow. I came to take up a job teaching printmaking at East Ham Technical College and I was already a printmaker, yet unsure of my subject matter until I began recording what was on my doorstep. I started with a series of prints of local corner shops and pubs, all now gone of course. I took in anything and everything to do with the urban environment, I was attracted to the rich mixture of history, decay and the everyday familiarity of what I saw.” – Janet Brooke
“About 1985, Hessel St in Whitechapel was full of these brightly-painted Bangladeshi shops which had replaced the previous Jewish ones and were about to be replaced themselves by anonymous development. This one actually managed to survive as a shop – in the nineties, it changed to Hessel Food Store and then with a different frontage it became Chandpur Frozen Food Store.”
Parking Restrictions Apply – “I happened across this abandoned car near London Fields in about 1996. Full of the detritus of life, I felt it reflected some of the angst, tedium and humour that are part of modern urban living.”
“In 1986, this whole street off Brick Lane was boarded up shops yet with such a wealth of history – not just the signs of the closed shops but the remains of the ones that went before. Next to this, at number 20, there was J. W. Agass, then at number 18, J. Mandel, and a bit further along at 14, S. Levy, Drapers & Outfitters”
Joyce’s Hair Stylist, Fieldgate St, Whitechapel, 1983 – 10% Off 1st Visit
Clark’s Chemist – “In 1990, Broadway Market, was one of the most desolate streets in the area with most of the shops boarded up. I made a whole series of prints of this street as it seemed to sum up the times. I liked it best when it was in its period of transition, the first years of ‘Hidden Art,’ when artists and designers were given empty shops for a couple of weekends to make into a gallery.”
“In 1996, this faded sign on the wall on that rather anonymous bit of the Bow Rd near the tube station next to Wellington Way, complete with mildewed bench and can of Tennants Super summed up urban loneliness for me. The wall is still the same with that mysterious faded sign spelling out ‘L REMEMB’ and the benches are there, though now metal ones have replaced the old wooden ones.”
Billy’s Snack Bar – “Just off Hackney Rd, the corner of Pritchards Rd and Emma Street, Billy’s Snack Bar is a colourful beacon. This was 1985 and the café remained looking exactly the same for many years. Now it’s changed its look somewhat but, amazingly, Billy’s is still there.”
“A very early print – probably 1982 – looking through the window of a café in Roman Rd. It was in one of the blocks of shops at the end nearest Grove Rd, on the north side of the road. There are several bits of imagery that place this in its particular time – the space invaders machine for one and the reflection of the number eight routemaster in the window.”
“An early print from 1980, the pub on the corner of Burdett Rd and Hamlets Way, close to where I lived in Ropery St, long since turned into flats. Even then, you couldn’t tell what it was called from the worn-out sign. It was actually The Crystal Tavern and inside it was full of mirrors, faded red velvet and an ancient barmaid with back-combed hair.”
“In 1990, Ridley Rd Market at packing up time when the bustle of the day had finished”
“I’ve always been fascinated by gas works, those intricate bits of Victorian industrial architecture embedded in the heart of urban living. This is in Bethnal Green by the canal, viewed from the entrance in Marian Place, off Pritchards Rd, in 1995. The gasometers are still there but not the house, I actually met someone once who said their uncle lived in it – the watchman I suppose. What a brilliant view!”
Images copyright © Janet Brooke
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On The Bishopsgate Goodsyard, 17
Mystery Photos Of Brick Lane
Stefan Dickers, Archivist at the Bishopsgate Institute, bought a box of old photographs of Brick Lane in the Spitalfields Market recently, which we estimate were taken around 1980. Unfortunately, they are not labelled with the photographer’s name, so can anyone tell us who took them? I have captioned some of the familiar faces and places, but we hope you can identify more of the subjects.
Reg Fuller at his fruit stall at the top of Brick Lane
At the Taj Stores
At the Spitalfields Fruit & Vegetable Market
In Sclater St
Harry Fishman, Newsagent
Ian Anderson, National Front leader, selling newspapers at the top of Brick Lane
For a spell, ‘The Ten Bells’ in Commercial St was renamed ‘Jack The Ripper’
In Cheshire St
In Sclater St
Stanley Kinn
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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On The Bishopsgate Goodsyard, 16
The Return Of Bob Mazzer
Bob Mazzer, the genius tube photographer, sent me his latest batch of photographs yesterday, in advance of his illustrated lecture at the Bishopsgate Institute on Thursday night, and these new pictures made laugh so much, I could not resist publishing them at once so you can enjoy them too.
Very friendly, happy to pose, and preserving her modesty
Lemon in the neck
The times they have a-changed …
… but Time itself never changes
Misery & …
… Contentment
Can’t quite remember where but it’s just at the bottom of an exit, and I hung around here for almost too long before I got this, as I couldn’t summon up the courage to ask and I didn’t want a pose
People pray a lot on the tube, this seems to be one of the commonest poses
This could have actually been Halloween, but every night on the tube is like Halloween …
If I had a guitar tattooed on my arm it would also be a Les Paul
I had to be quick before the doors shut, or the dog saw me …
Asleep at Edgware, the end of the line, and too late to get the train back to where you should have got off
Elegant madness, and also happy to pose!
Platform attendant, after hearing the public last train announcement that contradicted what he had just been told on the blower
That tablet glow …
… and that tablet … correlate!
The cameras they have a-changed
After asking if I could photograph his tattoos, this man and I spent a very civilised few minutes talking about football, of which I know next to nothing, and I got off the train elated
Ominous clothing
Photographs copyright © Bob Mazzer
Bob Mazzer is showing his photographs in conversation with Archivist Stefan Dickers at the Bishopsgate Institute this Thursday 20th November at 7:30pm and a few tickets are still available.
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On The Bishopsgate Goodsyard, 15
So Long, Irene Kingsley
Today, I publish my portrait of market traders, Irene & Ivan Kingsley, as a tribute to Irene Kingsley who lived her whole life around Petticoat Lane and died earlier this month.
Irene Kingsley, Herbert House, Spitalfields 1957
Although it may not be apparent to the casual visitor, Middlesex St is the boundary between the Borough of Tower Hamlets and the City of London. It is a distinction of great significance to residents of this particular neighbourhood, because – as Irene Kingsley, who lived there her whole life, put it to me with succinct humour – “When you are in the gutter, you are in Tower Hamlets but when you are on the pavement, you are in the City.”
“I live in the City now, but I spent most of my life in Tower Hamlets.” she added as a qualification, just in case I should take her quip in the wrong spirit. Although Irene had ascended to the lofty heights of a flat in Petticoat Tower on the City side of Middlesex St, she was not bragging that she had gone up in the world, but rather admitting that her heart remained back on the other side of the street where she started out. And when I went to visit her and her husband Ivan, I understood the difference at once, as I climbing the steps from the shabby Petticoat Lane Market into the well-tended courtyard garden of Petticoat Tower, quite a contrast to comparable developments in Tower Hamlets.
In the hallway of their flat on the seventeen floor more plants flourished, these were tended by the Kingsleys. I had only a moment to contemplate them before Ivan appeared to hustle me through the modest yet comfortable flat to the living room where Irene was waiting. Then, as I entered, my eyes were drawn by the yawning chasm of the view over the City from their window. “Everyone goes straight for the view!” Irene declared, exchanging a knowing smile with Ivan. “We used to be able to see the Tower of London, until they built that,” she said, indicating a blue glass block. “And we could see the Monument, before the Gherkin went up,” said Ivan, pointing in the other direction. With such an astonishing prospect, I could understand how anyone might get a little proprietorial.
“We’ve seen a lot of changes in Petticoat Lane.” Irene admitted to me as we sat down, exchanging another a glance with Ivan which was the cue for him to serve tea and biscuits. I knew this was the beginning of her story.
“I was born in Brune House in Toynbee St. My father was a bus conductor and my mother was a seamstress.” she explained, “My grandfather was a cobbler in Artillery Passage and my grandmother had a tea stall in Leyden St, she had seven daughters and they all worked with her, and as time went on all the daughters had their own stalls and they were passed down to grandchildren. I left school at fifteen to work in the office of a clothing factory in Golding St, near Cable St. Until I was fifteen, I lived at Brune House, then I to moved to Herbert House nearby to live with my aunt, she had a daughter of her own and she took me in because I lost my mother. She treated me just like a mother, she took over as my mother.
In 1956 I went to Los Angeles. I took the Queen Mary to New York and then I went by plane from New York to Los Angeles. I worked in the office of an insurance company and I loved it there but I was very homesick, so after a year I came back to pick up the pieces. I had various office jobs and I enjoyed travelling with girlfriends but I never settled down. When I turned fifty, I decided to go into the market selling baby clothes and that’s where I met my husband…”
At this point Ivan and Irene exchanged big smiles, because this was the part where it became a shared narrative.
“We both started out as casual traders,” continued Irene, still looking at Ivan and saying “casual traders,” as if it were a term of endearment, “You had to put your name down on the list and wait around until there were available pitches and it just happened that while we were waiting we used to go to a cafe together. Then the old lady at the stall next to us, she had a granddaughter and we were both invited to the Bell for a celebration and we haven’t look back since!
This was the moment when Ivan took over.“I am not an East End boy,” he announced, “though until I was seven I lived on Underwood St in Spitalfields and from there we moved to Ford Sq in Whitechapel, until in 1940 when we moved to Stoke Newington which in those days was upmarket. I ran a furniture factory in Newington Green until 1976, when I took a job as milkman and from there I went to work for Conway Trading in Toynbee St. They sold socks and underwear for men, and I learnt about that trade, so when they went bankrupt I put what I had learnt into practice, I used to go up North to the sock makers, buy stock and sell it to the retailers. I even applied for the lease to the Conway Trading shop, but for some reason the council refused me and the place is still empty, thirty-five years later.”
By now, I realised where this was going, because – like Irene – the climax of Ivan’s story was becoming a market trader.
“So I decided to start trading in the market.” he said, speaking like a true zealot, “Sundays was brilliant and when I started, even in the week, it was good. It was a wonderful experience because you met so many different kinds of people, all sorts, and, because you were all working in the gutter together, you got to know each other. We were all friends since we were all in the same position. At one point, the council wanted to stop casual traders for nine months, so we went on strike and marched to Bethnal Green Town Hall and demonstrated there. They realised the market could fold and they couldn’t take away the livelihood from seventy people, so from then on we got licences to trade. It was an education, and it was a hard life too, but while you are working you enjoy it.”
Irene and Ivan had stalls side by side and then they combined stalls, unifying their presence in the market, just as their lives became intertwined in marriage. “I retired from the market three and a half years ago when my husband was seventy-five and I was seventy-two, so we feel we’ve done enough.” explained Irene, clasping her hands in satisfaction. Yet both acknowledged that trading in the Petticoat Lane Market was a highlight of their existence, a source of livelihood, a social education and a romantic adventure too, which all goes to prove that sometimes the gutter can be a better place to be than the pavement.
Irene & Ivan Kingsley in their flat in Petticoat Tower.
Irene at Canon Barnett School, 1947 – she is the sixth from the left in the back row.
Ivan (centre) as a young man on Hythe Beach with his family.
Irene (left) at Riccione Beach in 1970 with her friends Phyllis Gee, Stella Spanjar and Celina Martin.
Ivan returns to Conway Trading on Toynbee St where he worked in the seventies. Ivan tried to lease it from the council forty years ago but they refused and it has been empty ever since.
Irene & Ivan walking through Petticoat Lane Market, in the shadow of Petticoat Tower.
Looking towards the City from Irene & Ivan’s flat in Petticoat Tower.
Photographs copyright © Jeremy Freedman
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