A Girl in the World

photography

Some walls are just too beautiful to photograph bare. Sometimes, you need subjects that can make a statement, subjects that can bring a wall to life.

This was taken in Hoxton Square Bar, a treasure of a place in one of London’s trendiest post codes.  Vaulted ceilings, dimmed cave-like lighting, industrial walls and floors.  It’s as if it were designed by a true artist: the cavernous room his canvas, and the bodies inside his paint.  Every shadow and angle can be a photograph. Dark corners, chiseled profiles, grainy shadows that inspire a girl to write.

A kiss was the only option here. Passion the only way to compete with Grande.

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It’s a hot September Saturday in the “capital of the world” and in just a few days, I’ll be bidding farewell and boarding a plane back stateside. Every time I leave London, a little piece of my heart breaks. I love and loathe this place like an ex-boyfriend that will forever haunt me in my sleep. Too many epic memories to cherish, one too many differences left unresolved. It’s the city of dreams and possibility, heartache and loneliness, the too-beautiful lover that captivates you the way delicate young women can drive old men mad. London is a city that cannot be tamed. It will never be mine.

Friends, relatives, writers and poets have attempted to capture the essence of this place and every time they do, I learn something new. A chance encounter with a new-found friend today had us talking about London’s amazing ability to give the gift of appreciation. In the absence of open spaces and quiet corners, you somehow find a gratitude for these exact things that you took for granted back home. Abundance from the void.

Barbara Chandler’s Love London is a visual account of the city captured through a series of film photographs and a collection of quotes. I’ve perused it now for over a week and each time I do, I am captivated not only by her ability to present this city in its rawest form (grimy, beautiful, crowded and grande), but also by the places she chose to feature in her collection.  She’s presenting a London that is quintessentially hers but also a city that I feel can be mine, yours, theirs, everyones.  I recognize the monuments, the bridges, the murals, the buildings in her book and instantly feel a kinship with her, the photographer behind the lens.  It is not a tour guide, nor is it a travel book.  Neither is it a collection of pretty postcard photographs that you find at the train station or the airport.  Actually, at first glance, the images are not stunningly impressive nor conventionally beautiful.  But look closer and you’ll find the book’s voice.  Love London is a Londoner’s testimony. It’s an attempt to vindicate the roughness and softness of this city we’ve called home.

How delighted I was to see Barbara’s perspective of the SCARY mural that I stumbled upon in East London just a few weeks ago, her photograph somehow validating my need to take mine.  Her London vindicating my London.

SCARY mural East London

But perhaps what enamors me most of all is the collection of quotes included in the book: so eerily relatable, they give me pause.

“You may be alone and in Company at the same time.” – Henry Fielding (p. 164)

” [In London] love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea.” – Henry Fielding (p. 142)

“The parks are the lungs of London.” – William Pitt (p.120)

“London is far more difficult to see properly than any other place.” – G.K. Chesterton (p. 116)

“She [London] is just like a vast ocean where sardines as well as whales are living together.” – Yoshio Markino (p. 101)

“…it was a good place for getting lost in, a city no-one ever knew.” – V.S. Naipul (p. 92)

“This melancholy London – I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost … walk through its streets perpetually.” – W.B. Yeats (p. 71)

Page after page, a feeling of nostalgia hits me.  The grain in her images, the out-of-focus portraits, the ugly beauty of the not-so-glamorous corners of this town.  All of it presents a London that is real. Unpolished, grey, chaotic, hard. Just like mad blind love can be.

Suddenly, my London experience doesn’t feel so existential.  Love London vindicates my complicated love for this city of dreams.

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A friend once told me that you can live a thousand lives in London and still not discover every nook and cranny of the place. Sure enough, I was reminded of this a few days ago after a work meeting when we wandered into Shoreditch, a too-cool-for-me neighborhood in East London.

There’s a new, industrial, hole-in-the-wall ad agency around every corner, and boutique shops and coffee houses with patrons that look like they’ve come straight out of Rolling Stone magazine. One minute you see a punk-rock ballerina with blonde hair, pink tank and polka-dot tutu saunter across the street and the next minute a mirror image of Lucille Ball from I Love Lucy walks outside to have a smoke, curlers still in her hair.  And every single time I land in this borough I can’t help but feel like I don’t quite belong.  Actually, I feel like a fish out of water.  But that’s what London is.  A city full of surprises.

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I’m in London for the next few weeks and it feels like deja vu from last summer. August in this crazy city I used to call home. It feels different these days; a stronger hint of violence in the air, a little more crowded and chaotic, people less available and more hurried than before. It has changed. Or maybe I have changed.

A few days before I flew out, I was having lunch with a friend who had the opportunity to transfer here for work for six months. We mused about London as if it were an old lover, our voices laced with desperate longing as we spoke about our old haunts, past friends, and the pure, addictive energy of the place.

I lived my twenties here. The weeks were novel and sleepless. I’ve never played and worked so hard in my life. There was always a new friend to meet, another new destination to visit.

These days, I meander the city with a quieter peace inside me. Sometimes I can’t decide if cities shape people or the other way around. I feel like I’ve experienced it both ways. Today, I see past the big monuments, touristy red phone booths and new hipster hangouts. These days, I notice the subtle beauties that sit quietly on the fringes.

This wall, for example, sits behind Guy’s Hospital near London Bridge tube station. I think it’s meant to hide the hospital boiler room. I’ve walked by here countless times during previous visits and hardly noticed a thing. How great is the texture of this wall? And how amazing that it sits in an anonymous street in the back alley of an ugly old hospital? So great.

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When I first moved to Europe, my first “exotic” trip outside of London was to Istanbul. It is one of the most enchanting cities I’ve visited, with its beautiful mosques and towering minarets. I remembering staying at the Swissotel Istanbul and being spoiled with Turkish delights every single night with a view of the Bosphorus Bridge from my window.

Istanbul sits on the border of Europe and Asia – literally. Crossing the Bosphorus Strait finds you standing in the other continent. This means that the people, food, culture and language is a rich mixture of East and West. It is one of the most exotic places in the world.

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I know, I know, it’s Macau again, but seriously, the city is a treasure trove of gorgeous photographs. It is blessed with the most beautiful, paint chipped, sun damaged, rotten walls. Buildings have a texture here. You can almost describe them as crunchy.  Crusted, chipped and dry, they are beautiful in any light. If this apartment block were a cookie, it’d fall apart completely in your mouth into a thousand pastel pieces of dilapidated Asian architecture deliciousness.

 

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Marrakech is the most photogenic city I’ve ever visited. The walls of the medina, with its ancient clay and red earth origins, transformed the day’s light and turned every nook and cranny into a work of magic. No matter what the hour, light just seemed to dance here. Walls, doors, balconies and seemingly inanimate objects morphed into beautiful tableaus of gorgeous art. It’s the kind of the city that makes you appreciate the simple things, like the way an old bicycle can look so perfectly beautiful beside a rusty chair.

There is a feeling of timelessness in this city, a strong sense that civilizations have come and gone for thousands of years before me and will continue to do so long after I have gone.

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This photo was taken two years ago and is a testament to Dubai’s remarkable growth. I had very mixed reactions about the place but no one could deny the exponential boom that the city was undergoing during that time. On a rooftop pool deck in a residential apartment building we were witness to the growth of Dubai’s concrete jungles.  The cranes were so close that we could literally wave at the construction workers as we drank our margaritas.

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When we travel, the simplest bits of daily life become magical somehow. The stray dog on the street, the fruit stands in the market, clothes hanging to dry on balconies and windows. Sometimes it takes a journey half way around the world to help us see the beauty in ordinary things. Travel is wonderful that way.

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A year ago today, I was living in Buenos Aires learning Castellano (Argentine Spanish). It was Fall in South America. The nights were breezy and warm, perfect for (very) late dinners out.

It’s nice to remember that life. Time slowed in Argentina. Days were long and languid. Meals stretched for hours. Time with friends and family dictated working hours, not the other way around.

We all need a little bit of the exotic to feel alive. Moving to the other side of the world for love and language was definitely exotic for me. We took things slow, we relished the simple joys and kept top of mind what was most important: family, friendship and gratitude.

Something to ponder today.

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