Brick Lane

Finding Brick Lane was one of the most fulfilling of my wanderings in London. The lane itself is about 3 kilometres long and it absolutely consumed me. It was covered in graffiti and street art, which were not just plain tag or meaningless, un-attention grabbing scribbles. These pieces were so well thought out, drawn and designed and they were everywhere.

There were two tiger cubs, spray painted in black and white, snuggled up to one another, bottom of ones chin to the top of the other, both sleepily looking in opposite directions. It was like they were really there, only portrayed four times bigger than their actual size, cuddled up near a corner.

A faded black and white photographic poster of a 1940’s actress with a bright red peg painted on her nose. The peg looked so real and current. Whereas she was immortalised in a bygone era, with her wavy parted up-do and long thin drawn eyebrows.

A drawing of a skinny African man with a baby in a sling around his neck was so life-like. Both pairs of eyes followed you wherever you went. The drawing was so capturing, I felt as though I could stare at it forever to try and grasp what their thoughts were.

A jewellery store down the lane had windows filled with display shelves of unique hand-made pieces. Miniature ceramic and intricately painted teapots, the size of cherries hung on gold chains. Little plates with flowers so delicately and precisely painted to be worn as cuff links. Other collections included bright, small lego monsters that could be worn as earrings. There were small ink drawings, on cardboard thin pieces of wood, cut outs of old London men in an array of fashions from the 1950’s to be worn as broaches or used as art in their 2 inch size. White porcelain farm animals and heads from crocodile to giraffe hung tantalisingly on silver chains. Each item and piece had a story to tell, whether they brought nostalgic feelings by likeness to childhood toys or just portrayed a simpler time, they were all remarkable.

Along with fashion and jewellery were cafés that each beckoned you to enter and live their unique story. The street art was, however, undeniably my most treasured part of Brick Lane. The art itself was not the only visual influence that made me feel as though the paint and pictures were drawn over me as I became an extension of the brick walls. There were also real thought-provoking sayings and rhetorical questions written on walls that stayed with me long after I unwillingly left Brick Lane.