Laura Braun's Dalston Polaroids record a private journey around Dalston at night.
Laura Braun
www.laurabraun.net
Alexandra Blum
Alexandra Blum, is recording drawings of Dalston, as the area chages, she recorded two days of observations for the blog.
I’ve been making drawings of the streets in Dalston for about 6 months, trying to build up a series of images which relate to each other, to give a sense of how the area is changing: the life cycle of Dalston’s buildings, the interaction between existing buildings and spaces and the potential impact of new constructions.
Recently, I was given access to the building site as ‘Construction Artist’ at the Barratt Dalston Square development, so now I’m drawing from inside the site too. Below are some notes made over a couple of days’ drawing.
4.11.08
I want to draw the transparent staircase scaling the side of the furthest block, part of the system of structures builders use to transport themselves and materials around the site. I need to find a space to draw from, quiet enough to concentrate, with a good view, and not in everyone else’s way (too much!). Find a place in Ashwin Street by the side of Cafe Bliss. A small space, between a euro bin and the door which leads to the inner workings of the cafe. A step on the other side of the bin becomes a seat for a succession of people throughout the day, smoking, resting, chatting.
I see the man who sometimes asks for change for a cup of tea, he is upbeat and friendly as usual. He blows me a kiss, and says Hello Artist. The area he occupies is small, just a few streets, but his influence is wide. People travel through his territory and he acknowledges them. He puts some kind of spirit back into the street, a sense of someone being there who knows a vast array of people personally, someone whose existence revolves around his interaction with people passing by in the street. He is like a bridge between people, a kind of antidote to the anonymity of the city.
Speak to a man who looks at my drawing and the building site and says it is like a skeleton. It feels as if Dalston is being dissected , its innards laid bare, through the process of both construction and destruction. Impenetrable facades are crumbling, layer upon layer of spaces are revealed. Hoardings are put up in front of the Snooker Centre, followed by another layer, the first layer is dismantled from within. From the top of a double decker bus, its now exposed dark interior space is open, waiting for the deconstruction before the construction.
Two men from the station construction site come to see what I am up to. We speak about how this new structure is emerging from a vast number of individual units. Units of physical components , but also of actions. The scale of the site dwarfs the individual, but it can’t come into existence without the individual actions of an army of workers.
Returning to my studio, I realise Ashwin Street is now closed to traffic. Every time you walk into Dalston something has changed, bit by bit, following an inevitable plan, a plan so vast that the final outcome feels unknown.
10.11.08
Drawing on the construction site today. From Kingsland High Street, I cut through Ashwin Street, still traffic free. A million miles away from the frenetic pace of the main road, it seems hidden, unexpected, almost an oasis. It doesn’t feel run down, more in a moment of flux, with potentially active spaces hiding in the disused terrace. On reaching Dalston Lane, anyone wanting to enter the construction site has to play a game of chicken with the traffic to reach the pedestrian entrance. So far the pedestrians have won.
On entering the site, scale and context change immediately. I shrink, context expands. It’s teeming with rain and very windy. I draw from inside the block nearest to Dalston Lane. I draw the edge of the building. Boundaries between interior and exterior are fluid, scaffolding’s like an intermediary between old and new. Exterior space pours in, swirls around the interior, before racing back out onto the street. Feels like being on a cliff face, so I retreat further into a cavernous interior.
An interior staircase is blocked, a site worker shows me the way to climb the exterior ladders , zigzagging between each layer of scaffolding. It’s exposed, but less precarious than I’d imagined. Noise increases and I am offered ear plugs, yellow cones to be rolled to a point with one hand. They don’t have much effect until they seem to expand in my ear. Instant peace!
At lunch time I go to Cafe Bliss. Get my favourite table, at the front with a view of the fragmented facade, layers of scaffolding, cranes, hoardings and buses. Still pouring with rain, which seems to make everyone relaxed, a bone fide reason for refusing to rush. Gives me a reason to have apple pie and custard. From the cafe window the site shrinks, it can almost be taken in with one glance.
Back on site, I draw the wet interior with its cascades and pools. Reflections multiply the layers of concrete, scaffolding and light. As the light fades, concrete pillars begin to dissolve through a network of shadows projected from exterior flood lights. Previously clear distinctions between separate blocks of flats disintegrate, and a labyrinth of temporary spaces emerges.
I leave, it’s still raining. Outside, the artificial light makes the area seem transparent, skeletal. Kingsland High Street feels like a backbone, from which spaces move back and forth. Lights draw my attention to other areas, creating connections. A new network of spaces comes alive. Lit signs indicate basement bars. Light from shop fronts, particularly the glassless ones, extends their territories onto the street itself. The barrier of a threshold is removed, passersby inadvertently wander into the shops’ extended spaces, invited to explore. The process feels accidental, a fortuitous by-product, another layer to Dalston’s vitality.
Alexandra Blum
www.alexblum.co.uk
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