Spitalfields Life

Come and see Rob Ryan’s papercuts & Staffordshire dogs at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

In a quiet street off the Old Bethnal Green Rd, there is a large wooden door. If you go through a smaller door within this large one, you enter a passage, under an arch, that leads to a courtyard where there is another door. Go through this door, climb up a staircase and you will find the secret den of Rob Ryan, the papercut artist. With his luxuriant curls and thick beard, working here in this old loft, intent upon his creations, Rob Ryan might appear as a Romantic nineteenth century figure – like “The Tailor of Gloucester” – if it were not for the hoodie and Raybans that bring him bang up to date.

“I am not a connoisseur of papercutting” Rob declares in self-deprecating style, when I ask him about the origins of his work, as we cosy up on a couch upholstered in denim jeans. Years ago, before the seismic shift in cultural hierarchies that happened at the end of the last century, Rob was a painter who included words in his paintings and got a lot of flak for it. “Cheating” was the particular crime levelled at him at the Royal College of Art, where Rob was studying printmaking.

Rob produces a scruffy old Thames & Hudson paperback of Tyrolean papercuts – if there was a eureka moment, it was the discovery of this book. Making papercuts, he explains, was a natural extension of the screenprint stencils that he was already cutting and the symmetrical nature of these papercuts did not allow for the inclusion of words. So papercutting was the “cure” for the “malaise” of sticking words in his pictures.

Rob’s story is a startling reminder of how the hegemony of the art world has changed now, but it does not begin to account for the extraordinary flair that he brings to everything he touches. This is work of immense appeal that celebrates life and the complex emotions that colour our daily experience.

Obviously, the “cure” was completely ineffectual because his work is full of words that provide an important dynamic to the images. “I like the work of William Blake, and those English twentieth century artists like Eric Ravilious, Edward Bawden, Eric Fraser,” Rob explains, and his work is an honourable inheritor of this lively tradition.

There is an emotional fullness and attractive energy to all of Rob’s work that speaks of an artist who has found his perfect medium. Quickly, he saw the limitations of entirely symmetrical papercuts and that is when the words came back in again. Getting passionate, he gestures rhetorically and, in delight, declares of papercutting “There is no cheating! There is no right! There is no wrong!”

Things start to get exciting now, as he offers me an apple, and moves over to his work table to commence a papercut. His energy changes and a serene Rob Ryan emerges as he opens a notebook and begins purposefully to copy a sketch in pencil onto a sheet of paper on a light box. Then he transfers the paper to a green cutting board and begins to cut it out with a scalpel in swift confident strokes. There is a different, more intense, atmosphere in the room now, everything focussed to the quick movement of the blade between Rob’s nimble fingers, and I reach over to capture the moment with my camera. Then it has passed, Rob inscribes the papercut and kindly presents it to me with as a souvenir.

It is an image of a mother and child playing together. As I examine the treasured scrap, when I get back to my desk, I am conscious of the sinuous subtle lines of this delicate cut that give these figures life and movement, and capture an ephemeral moment of intimate affection between parent and child.

In a papercut, all the elements have to be connected – human figures have to hold hands or touch – and as result of this technical requirement, this sense of connection has become a defining element in Rob Ryan’s work, as both technique and as subject matter. The breathtaking skill on display brings an audience to these works, but it is the language that gives depth in the exposure of ambivalent or raw emotion, and this emotionalism, whether light or dark, creates an exciting counterpoint to the control required to make them.

Years ago, Rob had a studio at the Bishopsgate end the Spitalfields Market before it was demolished. He regularly used to eat a huge roast lunch at the Market Cafe in Fournier St before it shut at eleven in the morning, to set him up for a day’s work. He has now become one of the most popular artists, in our neighbourhood and far beyond, and I like to think that in his use of familiar domestic images, he captures something of the essence of the life of this place as it is lived now.

The Staffordshire dogs Rob Ryan made for Spitalfields Life

Images copyright © Rob Ryan

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Come and see Lucinda Rogers’ drawings at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

Even before I met her, I always admired this view looking West over Spitalfields by Lucinda Rogers that is framed on the wall of the Golden Heart in Commercial St. It is a large drawing executed in vigorous lines placed with superlative confidence, and filled with subtlety and fluent detail to reward the eye. The pale cloud on the horizon high above the City – illuminating the grey Northern light of a London sky – is a phenomenon that anyone in Spitalfields will recognise. What I especially like about this drawing is that there are so few lines, enough to summon the drawing into existence yet without any superfluous gesture. And although there is no pretence to photographic realism, the vivid spatial quality is such that when you gaze into the deep spaces of the composition it can feel almost vertiginous, especially if you have had a few drinks.

The next work of Lucinda’s to impinge upon my consciousness was her portrait of my friend Paul Gardner, the paper bag seller, which hangs up behind the counter in his shop in Commercial St, where his family have traded from the same building since it was built in 1870. Here you see Paul, in his world composed of paper products, at ease behind the counter in a characteristic pose of dreamy contemplation, ever expectant of the next customer to burst through the door demanding paper bags. The crowded symphonic detail of the bags and tags and signs in this masterful portrait manifest the contents of Paul’s extraordinary mind, possessing a natural facility to keep to track of all his stock, as well as working out all the prices, discounts for multiples and VAT percentages with ease.

I do not know what I expected when I met Lucinda Rogers for the first time, but I certainly was not prepared for her alluring poise, as she arrived looking chic in a tweed coat with dramatic long straight copper hair, pale skin and a huge ring with a rectangular stone – with an intensity of glamour as if she had stepped from a Jean Luc Godard movie. As we shook hands and I complimented her on her work, she flashed her hazel eyes with a generous smile, and I was momentarily disarmed to realise that she was looking at me with the same shrewd vision which she demonstrates in her elegant work. Once introductions were accomplished, we enjoyed several hours studying this remarkable set of drawings, which exist collectively today as a unique portrait of our neighbourhood as it was in the first decade of this new century.

They were created by Lucinda between 2003 and 2008, for an exhibition at the Prince’s Foundation Gallery in Shoreditch and then for a feature in an Italian design magazine, Case da Abitare, as she explained to me, “I was offered an exhibition, so I decided to make it of the East End  – because I had only drawn New York up until then – with the focus on Spitalfields and especially on people working. So not really about the buildings, but about recording the things that go on inside the buildings and how they are changing. Not like a photograph, but more about a particular day, your feelings, and what you choose to leave out or leave in to make the picture. You are making something that’s less factual and more subjective.”

The first drawing Lucinda made was of the B2B building in Usborn St at the bottom of Brick Lane. “The reason I did this drawing was because of the numbers that are cut out of plywood and nailed to the wall to advertise the sound studio where the soundtracks for Bollywood films are recorded. The floor beneath is occupied by the rag trade, the Jewish Monumental Mason is next door, in between is the Italian Coffee Shop, while in the background the Gherkin is being built and in the foreground is an apple core.” she told me, enumerating the diverse elements in her picture that coalesce to define the elusive mutable culture of this location, where today an estate agent occupies the property.

The modest aesthetic of these drawings upon tinted paper with just a few touches of colour is dramatically in contrast to their bold compositions and scale. Lucinda’s work is closer to cinema than photography, because confronted with the physical presence of the works you cannot resist turning your head to scan the extent of these images.“I see the finished drawing in my mind,” Lucinda said to me plainly, revealing an imaginative confidence that permits her to work without preparatory drawings, defining the structure of these pictures with her first deftly-placed bold brushstrokes.

Each was completed in a single session on location in the street or in the workplace, contributing to the spontaneity that all these drawings share. The fragile lines that conjure these images out of ether give them tremendous energy and life, whilst also emphasising their diaphanous transient quality of vision. As Lucinda Rogers admitted to me with philosophical smile and a gentle shrug of perplexity, “Everything that I draw changes…”

Brick Lane at the junction with Hanbury St.

At the rear of the Nicholls & Clarke building, Norton Folgate.

Leatherworkers at Hyfact Ltd, Links Yard, Spelman St.

Sunday in the Spitalfields Market, Christmas

B2B Building, Osborn St.

Sunrise wedding services, Hanbury St.

Paul Gardner, Gardners Market Sundriesmen, Commercial St.

Phil at Crown & Leek joinery, Deal St.

KTP Printing, Princelet St.

Night in the kitchen at the Beigel Bake, looking out towards Brick Lane.

Big John Carter playing Boogie Woogie on Brick Lane.

Saffire furniture shop, Redchurch St.

Columbia Road Flower Market.

Eugene at  North Eastern Motors, Three Colts Lane.

Junction of Middlesex St and Wentworth St, viewed from Petticoat Towers.

Bishopsgate Goods Yard with Spitalfields and the City beyond, viewed from pool deck at Shoreditch House.

Drawings copyright © Lucinda Rogers

Come and see Alice Pattullo’s prints at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

Alice Pattullo only moved to London at the beginning of this year, coming – like so many other young artists before her – to make her way in the world. And when I visited Alice in the shared house in Leyton in which she lives, I discovered that one room serves both as her studio and her living space – where she works seven days a week, creating a prolific output of lively and distinctive graphics.

“I had a plan,” Alice explained, her eyes lighting up in excitement, “One, find a house to live in. Two, do what I wanted to do.” Fortunately, a monthly commission from Coast magazine and regular work for English Folk Song & Dance Society publications covers Alice’s rent and gives her the basis upon which to create her own personal work, alongside a steady flow of other illustration jobs. “I can’t really stop,” she admitted to me, “you are working on one thing and it always leads to another thing. There is no distinction between my life and work. It could be really hard to motivate yourself in this situation but, because there’s so many things I want to do, that keeps me going.”

Originally from Newcastle, Alice graduated from Brighton College of Art in 2010 with a first class degree and an enthusiastic no-nonsense attitude. Her small room is lined with a colourful array of the work of twentieth century illustrators she admires and that she has found in markets and sales. Her desk is piled with her sketchbooks which she fills with designs and motifs that she scans into her computer where she reassembles and manipulates them into finished compositions. Impressively, Alice seems equally comfortable with the act of drawing as with digital creation.

I first became aware of Alice’s illustrations when I saw the beautiful print she had created inspired by my story about Steve Brooker, the mudlark, and the confidence and witty ingenuity of her style was immediately apparent. “All my work for the past few years has been about superstitions, folklore, traditions and customs.” Alice told me, “and since being in London I’ve been doing more stuff to do with being here.” Alice showed me two richly coloured prints that she has made as the beginning of a projected series illustrating all the livery companies of the City of London. “It’s about the celebration of a craft,” Alice declared, choosing the Worshipful Company of Glovemakers and the Worshipful Company of Basketmakers to start, as companies that are still involved in their respective trades. “It’s quite a good way to make a little money, and you’re not waiting for someone to give you a  job,” she outlined, speaking modestly of these handsome prints that she produces in small editions at low prices to keep them moving.

There is a spirited quality to all of Alice’s work that I find irresistibly appealing. And I admire the way she has adopted her own subject matter and created her own momentum, thereby attracting commissions to keep herself going. Alice has no regrets about moving to London.“It’s been a good decision, I’ve already got so much more work,” she confirmed for me, breaking into a delighted smile.

The Worshipful Company of Glovers

The Worshipful Company of Basketmakers (with the figures of the giants Gog & Magog)

Pearly King & Queen

The Harvest Festival of the Sea

Swan Upping commissioned by the Shopfloor Project

Glandford Shell Museum

Cats at Brighton Museum

Alphabet of Superstitions

A IS FOR ALLAN APPLE. If a girl sleeps with an Allan apple under her pillow over Halloween she will dream of her future husband. If you eat one on Halloween you will be very fortunate in the year to come.

B IS FOR BEES. Bees are seen as sacred as they were thought to be divine messengers and foretellers of the future.You should never kill a bee, and you should always tell the bees of any change in circumstance in the home otherwise they will pine and die, or fly away – a grave misfortune.

C IS FOR CIGARETTE. You should never light three cigarettes from a single match otherwise misfortune will fall upon he who holds the third.

D IS FOR DOGS. Gabriel’s hounds are a pack of spectral dogs that haunt the skies.Anyone who hears or sees the hounds is doomed to s premature death.

E IS FOR EVIL EYE .He who bears the evil eye can bring illness and misfortune to humans and animals alike and can even destroy inanimate objects simply by looking at them.

G IS FOR GLOVES. If you drop your gloves you should always allow someone else to pick them up for you otherwise bad luck will follow.And if they are returned to you then you can expect a pleasant surprise.

H IS FOR HORSE SHOE. The common horseshoe is the best known lucky amulet. However it will only bring you it’s lucky properties if it is hung with it’s prongs pointing up. If the point down all the good luck will fall out.

I IS FOR ITCHING. Having an unexplained sensation in the body, for example an itch is suggested to have a significance depending on where it is.An itch in your: Right ear =Your mother is thinking of you. Left ear =Your lover is thinking of you. Eyes = A pleasant surprise if it is your right, a disappointment if it is your left. Cheeks = Someone is talking about you. Hands = Your right means you will be getting money soon, your left means you will be losing some. Nose = You will be kissed, cursed, vexed or shake hands with a fool!

J IS FOR JACKDAW. Rain is foretold if you see jackdaws fluttering round the top of a building and it is an omen of death if one should fly down the chimney.

K IS FOR KNIFE. To give a knife as a present will ‘cut’ the friendship.This can be counteracted though if the receiver gives something back in return – as though ‘buying’ the knife.

L IS FOR LADDER. A well known superstition is that it is unlucky to walk under a ladder but the bad fortune comes as the shape the ladder makes from leaning against a wall is the triangle of the Holy Trinity and walking through it suggests a sympathy for the Devil!

M IS FOR MERRYBONE. If two people hold each end of the forked bone found between the breast and neck of a fowl and break it while forming a secret wish, he who gets the larger half can be assured his wish will come true.

N IS FOR NAILS. Cutting your nails at sea will provoke a storm. If a young unmarried woman cuts the nails on her right hand she will rule her husband.A child’s nails should never be cut or he will become ‘light fingered’ but can be nibbled off by his mother.

O IS FOR ONION. Snakes have an aversion to onions so to protect against their attacks it is wise to carry a raw onion in the hand.

P IS FOR PINS. See a pin and pick it up all day long you will have good luck.

Q IS FOR QUELLING. To quell the waves in a storm it is suggested that you throw a pack of playing cards directly into the waves.

R IS FOR RAVEN. To see one raven is lucky, tis’ true, but it’s certain misfortune to light upon two and meeting with three is the Devil.

S IS FOR SCISSORS. Like giving a knife as a present, scissors too will cut the friendship.To drop a pair of scissors is thought to be unlucky and if they fall with the points facing downwards there will be a death shortly in the house.

T IS FOR TATTOOS. A sailor without tattoos is like a ship without grog. Not seaworthy.

U IS FOR UMBRELLA. You shouldn’t open an umbrella indoors otherwise it will bring misfortune to the whole household.

V IS FOR VULTURE. Vultures are birds of ill omen as it thought the can predict death and have an unsettling diet of corpses.

W IS FOR WOOD. Touching wood is thought to be an action that will help counteract the threat of evil. It is usually done when someone is thought to have tempted fate.

X IS KISSING. An unexpected kiss from a tall dark stranger is certain to be followed by a proposal of marriage. But beware! Kissing a man with a moustache should not be lightly undertaken – if a hair attaches to your lips you will never get married!

Y IS FOR YELLOW HAMMER. The yellowhammer is considered an ill omened bird as it is egg is covered in serpent like marks associating it with the Devil.

Z IS FOR ZODIAC. Each ‘house’ in the zodiac has it’s own unique character and people born within the dates are supposed to share similar traits.

Alice Pattullo in her room in Leyton.

Illustrations copyright © Alice Pattullo

Come and see Joanna Moore’s drawings at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

When I arrived to meet Joanna Moore at the end of an afternoon’s drawing in Christ Church, Spitalfields, a small crowd had gathered to peer over her shoulder at her work. As you can see from the photo above, it is an interior that presents a considerable challenge to an artist. I would not choose to sit down with a pen and paper and try to draw it, but this was precisely what Joanna had done. It was her first attempt and, in a single session lasting just a couple of hours, she succeeded with such style that as the drawing approached completion, people stopped to marvel at her facility with lines.

I took Joanna to the Market Coffee House afterwards, to celebrate her remarkable afternoon’s work, of which she appeared modestly unaware. In the Coffee House she opened a portfolio to show me her other drawings of Spitalfields. A couple of years ago, Joanna came to live in an old house in Hanbury St for a couple of months and while she was here, something extraordinary happened, she discovered a compulsion to draw. “Life started changing and I went part-time in my job because I needed to see how well I could draw. I realised that if I didn’t do it now, I’d never do it. And this coincided with moving to Spitalfields – I found it so inspiring here.” explained Joanna, recalling that harsh Winter which proved such a cathartic and creative time in her life.

As Joanna produced an array of the fine drawings from her portfolio which record her time here, she spoke of the excitement of the circumstances from which they arose. “It was lonely living here in this beautiful old house, but I was determined to draw – separated from the people around me, I didn’t know anyone, I was just renting a basement. I bought myself fingerless gloves to work outside, but it was so cold I could only do an hour’s drawing at a time. You can deal with the cold in your head and body, though when your hands get cold, then you can’t control your fingers to draw anymore.”

It was apparent from these fluent drawings that Joanna’s achievement was far greater than simply retaining control of her fingers but, more than this, I was inspired by the personal discovery these works manifested. The nest of lines within these quiet yet sophisticated drawings trace the birth of a vibrant talent. Within the pluralism of contemporary art, there is a resurgence of drawing and a recognition that a talent and facility for draughtsmanship – which Joanna found within herself – is not to be under-rated. In architectural drawing, most people struggle to get their lines in the right place when attempting to record structures, but for Joanna this is second nature. She can do it with ease, and brings wit and humanity along too.

Joanna never set out to draw, she trained as an architect yet became alienated at the idea of life in front of a computer terminal, switching to Art History in the middle of her studies. Since leaving Cambridge five years ago, Joanna worked as an architectural historian but found herself increasingly fascinated with looking at the buildings she was working on. Then, at twenty-five years old, Joanna discovered what she wanted to do, embarked on a year’s course at the Prince’s Drawing School in Shoreditch and now works as a freelance illustrator.

“The more I draw, the faster I get and the freer I get,” admitted Joanna, her eyes gleaming with determination and passion for her chosen course. “It’s a very pure pleasure,” she continued with a gentle smile, considering her portfolio and aspiring to find words for the dynamic experience of drawing,”That’s why I’m driven, because it’s the purest art form you can get – to record what’s in front of you. I don’t want to use my drawings as the basis for paintings because I’m more interested in drawing the next thing.”

Too few people follow their enthusiasms, and so I was inspired to meet Joanna Moore at this crucial moment in her life.

Princelet St

Trinity Green Almshouses, Whitechapel

The Brick Lane Beigel Bakery

At the Tower of London

Christ Church, Spitalfields

Drawings copyright © Joanna Moore

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Come and see Marianna Kennedy’s lamps and mirrors at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

Behind this enigmatic facade – lettered W&A Jones – at 3 Fournier St, directly across from Christ Church Spitalfields is the showroom, workshop and home of designer Marianna Kennedy. You can even see Nicholas Hawksmoor’s spire reflected in the crown glass panes of her shopfront.

For years, I have walked past this place and wondered what goes on here, so I was very excited to go inside and meet Marianna in person. Entering through the door on the right, I found myself in a bare eighteenth century hallway, where I was greeted by a woman dressed in elegant charcoal tones who spoke with a soft Canadian accent. Marianna invited me upstairs and I followed in her footsteps until we arrived in her beautifully proportioned panelled living room. As I craned in wonder at the window, looking down onto Fournier St and raising my eyes to the steeple towering overhead, Marianna busied herself screwing up newspaper with professional aplomb. She was lighting a fire in my honour, so we could enjoy a fireside chat.

Observing my curiosity, Marianna offered me a tour of the house and then, with a playful levity, she was off again, vanishing from the room like the White Rabbit. I followed her up more stairs, round and round, with each storey offering a new perspective backwards into all the secret gardens and yards that comprise the spaces between these ancient houses in the shadow of the church. There are so many of these wonderfully irregular old staircases in Spitalfields, each with their own creaking language and each leading to surprises. At the top of this one, we turned sharply and ascended a final narrow flight, barely two feet wide, to pass through a door and arrive on the roof where, hidden behind the parapet, Marianna has created an astounding secret garden with a wildflower meadow. The rooftop is on a level with the bell tower of the steeple across the road, and Marianna stood patiently in the frosty meadow with all the mysterious poise of a heroine in a Wilkie Collins novel – while I gazed across the rooftops of Spitalfields, admiring the ramshackle irregularity of the old tiled roofs and chimney pots.

Once we were back by the fireside, Marianna settled into a wing chair illuminated by the morning sunshine and became eloquent in her affection for the architecture of the old houses here. She explained that she first came to stay in Fournier St twenty-five years ago while a student at the Slade. Marianna and her husband renovated 42 Brushfield St (the house with the sign “A. Gold, French Milliners”) before taking on the current property in a derelict state, prior to their repairs, ten years ago. Working with the Spitalfields Trust over all this time, Marianna has developed a sympathetic instinct for the decor of these wonderful spaces through the subtle use of traditional paint colours for panelling and old floors. “It is all about lack of ego, restraint and humanity,” she admitted to me. “You can make something look so natural, like it has always been there,” she explained, before adding significantly “- that is a very hard thing to do.” Certainly, Marianna’s home confirms this aesthetic, a working house with elegant functional spaces which serves as the ideal showplace for her furniture designs.

Above the fireplace in her living room is a huge bronze foliate mirror with tinted mercury glass to Marianna’s design, here in a corner is a lacquerwork table with cast bronze legs, hanging against the stairwell window is a dazzling collection of colourful transparent resin casts of plasterwork details and in each room there are the lamps of traditional design, also cast in brightly coloured resin – these are her signature pieces. All these artefacts are unmistakeably contemporary and yet, because they are made by craftsmen using techniques that have been around for centuries, they compliment the interior of the old house.

As we made our way down to the shop to say goodbye, I congratulated Marianna on recreating such a beautiful house. “It still has its magic,” she said with understatement, and, after my experience that day, I can happily confirm her assertion.

Marianna Kennedy

Portrait copyright © Lucinda Douglas Menzies

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Come and see Laura Knight’s graphics at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

“I bought them ten years ago for ten pounds in a secondhand shop in the Essex Rd,” revealed Laura Knight with a proud gleam in her eye, when I enquired the origin of this fine nineteenth century couple. “The colour and the style of them really appealed, they spoke to me,” she said, contemplating the cherished figures.

In retrospect, ten pounds was truly a bargain price for this Staffordshire group that has proved to be such a rich source of inspiration for Laura. “With Staffordshire Figures, there’s always two things going on,” she explained to me, articulating the dynamic that gives these modest designs their charisma, “there is the fineness of detail in the moulded form, in contrast to the application of the colour which – I suppose because it may have been done by children – has a childlike, almost crude quality.”

When Laura’s elegant prints of Staffordshire Figures first drew my attention, capturing the spirit of these pieces with rare grace and economy of means, I recognised they were the assured work of a mature artist in control of her medium. So I became curious to discover the story behind them and I invited her over to find out.

As soon as Laura leapt off the bus outside Liverpool St, she cast her lively eyes around in wonder at the changes in Spitalfields, recalling humorously that once upon a time she often came to Brick Lane for a curry at the Nazrul and enjoyed watching the strippers over a drink at the Seven Stars in Brick Lane. “It used to be a nice place for cheap night out when I was a student at the Royal College of Art in 1978,” she admitted to me with a nostalgic grin. Laura’s grandparents were from Bethnal Green, “The talk was of boys’ clubs and boxing matches,” she remembered as we walked through the streets together, “It’s sad when you can’t have the conversations that you wish you’d had with them in the nineteen seventies when they were alive.”

There is an emotional resonance to Laura’s graphic work that draws you in, and in which pieces of china exist as personal fragments to evoke an entire culture. “They were on everybody’s mantlepiece and everybody’s dresser. They are a vivid background, deep in our memories of home. There wasn’t a kitchen without a piece of willow pattern or a mantlepiece without a piece of Staffordshire.” said Laura, speaking from the heart, “But because they’re so familiar they’ve become forgotten and no-one’s looking at them any more.”

After graduating from the Royal College, Laura enjoyed a successful career as an illustrator which led to teaching, which led to cutting back on her own work. And then when she quit teaching, she found herself starting all over again as illustrator. “I suppose if you really love something, you just want to keep doing it until you can make it your own,” was Laura’s self-effacing explanation of her predicament at this moment – also the moment when she remembered the Staffordshire couple that she bought in the Essex Rd. “I realised when I was drawing them that they were suitable for rubber stamps,” said Laura, revealing the discovery of her technique, whereby she gets her drawings made up into rubber stamps and then colours them herself, as a cottage industry, just like the ceramic painters of old. “I want to make my work into products that I can sell, rather than wait for people to commission me,” she continued, outlining her policy to achieve artistic independence, “I’ve started working with the London Printworks Trust who have given me a lot of support. They do small runs and they have printed my designs onto silk scarves.”

Knowledgeable and passionate about the history of English popular art, and with a distinctive mature style, Laura Knight is creating work that is irresistibly appealing. And it is my privilege and delight to introduce you to Laura and her joyous creations.

Laura makes these fine silk scarves, hand-rolling the edges of each one.

The Staffordshire couple Laura bought in the Essex Rd ten years ago.

Laura at work in her studio

Artwork copyright © Laura Knight

Come and see Sebastian Harding’s model of Nicholas Culpeper’s House at The Artists of Spitalfields Life opening at Ben Pentreath Ltd on Wednesday 7th November.

“I’ve been in London for three years,” illustrator Sebastian Harding told me, “and I’m bored by the usual guides because there’s a lot of London you’re not encouraged to visit – such as Holborn, Smithfield and the City, but there’s been industry and life there for two thousand years.” So, Sebastian set out to create his own guidebook to Smithfield and evoke the vanished sights by constructing these characterful models of buildings that disappeared long ago and publishing them himself, accompanied by their stories, in a book. “Working as an illustrator in three dimensions, I wanted to make them more tangible and bring history alive.” he explained modestly.

Many guidebooks talk of opening hours and prices, of queues and “must sees.” You need not worry about any of that with this tour, for all you are about to read about is gone. This book is for the intrepid traveller who is prepared to imagine as well as see. You will look in vain for a blue plaque, for this is a walk of lost lives and forgotten buildings. There is no necessary order in which to see these sights but all are within ten minutes of each other.

I hope you enjoy wandering among the ghosts of Smithfield’s dark and sordid past, and remember – the most gripping true stories have always contained an element of fiction.

The Fortunes Of War Public Tavern, Cock Lane – A Sinister Sidetrade.

Smithfield Market’s proximity to St Bartholomew’s Hospital betrays a lot about the British public’s distrust of the medical trade. It is fitting therefore to focus on one building that catered to both trades – The Fortunes Of War Public Tavern.

Let us place ourselves in the eighteenth century as we watch a student of anatomy making his way into the tavern. He is here, not as you would expect for his leisure, but for his studies. He is led by the landlord down dank mouldering stairs to the cellar. Rows of sacks give off a pungent smell of rotting meat, yet these are not the carcasses of swine or cattle but the bodies of recently dead Smithfield residents.

This was the secret trade of the Body Snatchers or Resurrectionists that supplied students and professors of anatomy with fresh corpses. For a God-fearing public, it was immoral and barbarous in the extreme, for this was a time when many believed a soul would only be granted into heaven if their corporeal body was intact, while being dissected meant an eternity in purgatory.

John Aston’s House, Charterhouse Lane – An Unfair Execution

John Aston was a priest in the parish of Smithfield, arrested at the same time as the influential protestant leader John Rogers. Queen Mary’s secret police randomly inspected any priests who had been advocates of protestantism before her ascension to the throne in 1553.

Unsurprisingly, the inspections would usually find a protestant bible or a mass being held. Typically, the raids were held on Sundays and John Aston’s misfortune was to be found eating meat in one of these raids. The tyrannical catholic religion of the sixteenth century forbade any consumption of meat on Sunday and he was burnt at the stake for this trifling pretence.

20 Cock Lane – Poltergeists in the Panelling.

The name of this street can be traced to its proximity to the market, where poultry would once have been traded, but it also serves also as a risqué innuendo, since for hundreds of years it was the preferred haunt of prostitutes. It was on this street that fraud, haunting, murder and sex were all intertwined in one story.

Late one November night in 1760,William Kent was away on business in Norfolk. His wife Fanny, wishing to alleviate the loneliness of her nights alone, invited Betty the youngest daughter of the Parsons – the landlord’s family – to sleep in her bed. In the night, Fanny was disturbed by scratching sounds like claws on wood and lay frozen with fear. On appealing to Mr & Mrs Parsons, she was told a shoemaker lived next door and her fears were assuaged. But the next night was Sunday when no good Christian would ever work, yet the scratching came again, brought to a terrifying end by a loud bang.

After William Kent returned the next night the sounds were not heard again. Then, two months’ later, after a furious row, Mr Parsons threw the Kents’ possessions out onto the street,  even though William had not received a penny of the money he had loaned to his landlord the previous year. Subsequently, Fanny succumbed to smallpox and died on February 2nd 1761.

Some time later, the Parsons family began to hear the same scratching again and made sure it became a talking point for superstitious members of the community. The methodist preacher John Moore held a séance and ,when he asked if a spirit was present, a knock rang out. A second question followed – “Was the spirit that of the late Fanny?” Another knock. “Was Fanny murdered by her husband?” the reverend asked and then followed the loudest banging the party had heard.

Subsequently, William Kent was hanged, but afterwards the events were revealed as a fraud motivated by the feud between Mr Parsons and his tenant over the loan. Parsons was sentenced to three years in prison and three days in pillory, but later became regarded as something of a celebrity.

Mother Clapp’s Molly House, Field Lane – An Unusual Coffee House.

This was not a coffee house as we would know it, but rather a private club for gay gentlemen, where they could meet and form relationships without fear of discovery. The discretion of fellow members was crucial and entry was only permitted to those who knew a password. There were even gay marriage ceremonies conducted in locked rooms between men, with one donning a bride’s dress and the other a groom’s jacket. Mother Clapp herself presided over all, only leaving to get refreshments from the pub across the street.

Everything we know about this secret sub-culture stems from the raid by The Society For The Reformation Of Manners which had placed secret police inside the house. One man, a milkman, was hung for being found in the act of sodomy and Mother Clapp was sentenced to a day in the pillory. The crowd was so furious that they ripped the pillory from the ground and trampled it, and Mother Clapp died from the injuries sustained.

Sebastian Harding

The architectural legacy of the body snatchers can be seen in the watch houses that were built adjacent to most parish churches. An example of this may be seen at the church of St Sepulcre’s in Smithfield.

Illustrations copyright © Sebastian Harding

A limited number of copies of Sebastian Harding’s Smithfield: A Selective History are available for sale at £7 and may be purchased from the show or by emailing  seb.harding1@gmail.com