Portwood Stockport 2021

We have previously taken a look at Portwood as was – let’s take a giant leap forward to today.

The industry to the east has gone west – no more bees and alligators, instead there’s Tesco and Porsche.

Why make when you can buy?

Meadow Mill has long since ceased to spin and weave – currently undergoing adaptation into modern residential living.

I though, have always been fascinated by the rough ground that now seems so left behind.

Where once I found a weathered book of lost photographs.

This is a scarred and neglected landscape, even the developer’s sign has given up the ghost.

There are brambles, buddleia, rough grass and teasels amongst the rubble.

The remnants of roads, kerbed and tarred, strewn with hastily dumped detritus.

Puddled and forlorn.

Enter beneath the M60, where the Tame and Goyt conjoin to become the Mersey, a dimly lit passage home to the itinerant aerosol artistes.

All that remains of the long gone mills – the concrete base.

Detritus tipped and strewn, amongst the moss.

The remnants of roads going nowhere.

Surrounded by cars going nowhere.

Contemporary architecture creating cavernous canyons.

A landscape forever changing, caught between expectation and fulfilment, paradise forever postponed.

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.

John Milton

Torn Poster – Georges Road Stockport

Mimmo Rotella Best known for his works of décollage and psychogeographics, made from torn advertising posters. He was associated to the Ultra-Lettrists an offshoot of Lettrism and later was a member of the Nouveau Réalisme, founded in 1960 by the art critic Pierre Restany.

Inspiration to all lovers of the torn poster, The Society of the Spectacle reduced to the exasperating Esperanto of the inexplicable.

Working towards the demise of the – autocratic reign of the market economy.

Hannah Höch 

I wish to blur the firm boundaries which we self-certain people tend to delineate around all we can achieve.

My name is Kurt Schwitters – I am an artist and I nail my pictures together.

New things had to be made out of fragments.

Together they begin to define the realm of cut and paste collage technology, the chance encounter, the hastily arranged marriage and the jarring clash of culture and counter-culture.

They are my guiding lights – by which to live, look and learn, to loop the Möbius loop into an expanding geometry of new meanings.

The lines curve toward each other and intersect.

JCDecaux was founded in 1964 in Lyonby Jean-Claude Decaux. Over the years it has expanded aggressively, partly through acquisitions of smaller advertising companies in several countries. They currently employ more than 13,030 people worldwide and maintain a presence in over 75 countries.

Outdoor advertising, reaches more than 410 million people on the planet every day.

Some days everything falls apart.

Hartshead Power Station – Offices

We have of course been here before, to see a concrete bus shelter and a derelict control room.

All that is solid melts into air as Marx and Marshall Berman told us.

Though remnants remain – this is a short journey through a hole in fence, down into the warren of power station offices past.

They have been stripped of their former use and meaning, transformed into a transitory art performance space, paint and plaster now peeling, appealing to the passing painter, partially reclaimed by nature.

Let’s tag along:

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It began on an aimless walk out of Wigan on through Frimley, I found heaven on earth in the warm enfolding arms of the Washeteria. A perfectly preserved fascia, interior and machines, more by diffident neglect than good management. Signature wood effect and patterned Formica panelling, over earnest signs demanding the highest standards of personal conduct, etched in thick discoloured coloured plastic, abound on every surface. Stuttering strip lighting and a stone cold linoleum floor. A dull white ceiling, with a surface texture formed from deep frozen ennui.

Three years later I had visited and snapped several examples, all with their own uniques characteristics though all contributing to a typology. 

In the United Kingdom known as launderettes or laundrettes, and in the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand as laundromatsor washeterias.

George Edward Penury created the word laundromat for Westinghouse. 

According to NALI – the National Association of the Launderette industry, numbers peaked at12,500 in the early 80s but have since dwindled to just 3,000. 

The first UK launderette – alternative spelling: laundrette. was opened on May 9th 1949 in Queensway London.

Come with me now and relive those warm damp languorous moments as we visit eight laundrettes.

All the books sold out in three hours – so here’s your chance to flick through the virtual pages as the prewash finishes.

Huddersfield Contemporary Art Trail

I was invited by eminent Huddersfield based Psychogeographer Phil Wood to take a tour with him around the Huddersfield Contemporary Art Trail.

An alternate art trip devised by local art trippers Red Fodder.

We set forth from Huddersfield Station on Monday 13th January 2020 at the prearranged time of 14.00 hours. The weather was resolutely overcast and increasingly cold, with an ever present threat of rain.

Never to be knowingly deterred we made good progress around the town – we were hungry for art, the more contemporary the better.

Almost every avenue, alley and byway explored these are the snaps I snapped during our crazy Kirklees caper.

Along the way I added my own small contribution to the town’s contemporary art stock.

A veil was finally drawn over the afternoon’s cultural caprice with fine glasses of foaming ale in The Grove, where I finally came face to face with the Red Fodder folk for the very first time.

A fitting end to a thirsty day’s work.

Launderette – Levenshulme

14 Matthews Lane Manchester M19 3DS

It’s been quite a while – following a spate there has been an abatement.

Time was I couldn’t pass a coin-op operation without snapping.

It all began in a Wigan Washeteria one thing lead to another then another.

I was all washed up, rinsed and spun out – I had to call it a day.

Yesterday things changed – I turned a corner in life when I turned the corner into Matthews Road, the familiar aroma, signs and things signified came flooding right back – time stood still beneath a strip light lit suspended ceiling.

Long Lane Post Office – Heald Green

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190 Wilmslow Rd, Heald Green, Cheadle SK8 3BH

The original Long Lane Post Office is still there but not here:

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However – I digress.

One fine day, some time ago there popped into my consciousness a Sixties retail mosaic in the Heald Green area – I tracked down its precise whereabouts online, in the modern manner.

Thinks – one fine day, just you wait and see I’ll pay a visit to the Heald Green area.

So today I did, it started off fine and finished up less so.

Jumped the 368 from Stockport Bus Station alighted at The Griffin.

Walked aways up the road and there it was, almost intact – it’s original name obliterated with lilac exterior emulsion – did it once read healds?

Why of course it did – the local dairy and retailers were the shop’s original owners.

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A few tesserae are missing otherwise the piece is as was – a wobbly jumble of text, shape and colour.

Self service – at your service.

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Ghost Signs – Scarborough

All towns have ghosts, none more so than Scarborough.

High atop a castle topped, wind whipped promontory, lies Anne Bronte, overlooking the harbour below, wayward Whitby whalers wail, lost fisher folk seek solace.

Its walls ache with traders past, scissors that no longer snip, click-less shutters, unlettered rock and loaves that no longer rise.

Layers of sun baked, peeling paint on brick, rendered almost illegible.

As Alan Resnais would say Scarborough, mon amour!

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Found Art

For more years than I care to remember I have had an interest in Found Art.

The naturally occurring collision of printed material, the unseen hand and weather.

Our streets are literally littered with the stuff.

Conscious of the work of Kurt Schwitters, Hannah Hoch, Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg, I’m conscientiously out and about in search of the unconscious.

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Here’s a sample of my findings so far:

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Lost and Found – Tiviot Dale

Ὁ βίος βραχύς,ἡ δὲ τέχνη μακρή,ὁ δὲ καιρὸς ὀξύς,ἡ δὲ πεῖρα σφαλερή,ἡ δὲ κρίσις χαλεπή.

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I have no wish to take issue, with the finer thoughts and feelings of Deborah A. Ten Brink.

However.

There is a sense that our earthly endeavours, may serve to assist us in avoiding the void, the cold dark inevitability of eternity, that everyday here today, gone tomorrow feeling.

However.

Nothing lasts forever, except forever and nothing.

The cherished memories, condensed in a fraction of a second, rendered corporeal in photographic emulsion, carefully stored in family albums.

Are but a trick of light, a slight of hand, heart and mind.

Blink and they’re gone.

Blink again and you’re gone.

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Here they were.

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Here they are.

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