Saturday, 17 October 2015
d9/Arcade - Working that dream
Arcade has long been a dream of mine. Even before discharge, our much beloved art blog, there was always the dream. You see, I am mildly creative but fall way short of having any real talent. The many folks, friends and associates, who compromised that short lived internet site, they were in reality the reason the blog existed. I could sit side beside some highly creative people, presiding over....no, not presiding for that implies my somehow being better or being in control. I was not, am not better and I want no control. Hell, I can't even control myself let alone others.
"Art by barrow boys and girls." That was always the ethos. Like the Confucius' 'Golden Rule,' a thing that binds all faiths, all humanity by its code so the same could be said for my dream. Art for the people, by the people. It is what we are. It is the one single difference between us and our fellow animals. All humans are creative. All humans create art even if they don't know it. Being human is art.
Arcade is the name, not that I knew it until recently, that embodies that concept. An art gallery come market, come shop, come restaurant, come epicentre of all creative functions. Pottery, ceramics, glass playing musicians, improv, spoken word, figurative art, animism, every ism there is or isn't or is yet to be.
Walking into Arcade one might first encounter a piece of Animism; a sculpture of bones, feathers and road kill. Next to this a portrait hands upon the wall. Beside that a 'what the butler saw' piece of Victoriana that once you peer through the viewer reveals a rolling blog containing art as if on a reel. Beside that a robotic piece of art that cranks and creaks its arms and limbs. Then there are two performance artist doing what performance artist do best. Then another hung frame of surreal art. Upstairs is a room where film and sound can be seen or heard. Perhaps at the same time. As you move along this gallery, for gallery it is but also market place come representation of Brick Lane, you wander past a market stall selling books on art, photography, poetry, sculpture and more. Works by both famed, dead and living artists plus those of artists the world has yet to hear of.
Arcade would be the spirit of Gilbert and George when placed beneath a roof fused with the embodiment of street art. It is Brick Lane captured in miniature for that street with its vast array of divergent people is living art. Imagine a gallery like that. One that knows no rules, has no rules, whose outside walls are decorated by street graffiti and whose inner halls reverberate with an arcane art form that embraces all art forms, all creativity.
It is where commercial values meet creative ones. It is Arcade.
Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.