Tate, Oto

One Saturday I traveled to London by myself to meet some friends. I went early, and planned to walk the streets, visit the Tate Modern, and make my way slowly to Dalston for our scheduled evening. 

I took the Bakerloo line and got off at Picadilly Circus, confusing it with Leicester Square, and was initially pleased for nostalgic reasons - I used to work at Virgin Megastore Piccadilly many years ago. That said it was a nightmare, absolutely rammed with tourists. I took the Trocadero exit and walked down Shaftesbury Avenue, past stalls of tourist tatt and hordes of plodding idiots. I walked through Leicester Square, past more crowds, turning right towards the National Portrait Gallery. I crossed the road and walked through the pleasant and relative quiet of Cecil Court, admired the book stores and leafed through a few paperbacks on tables outside.

I walked past the Harp Bar, recalling many previous visits there, and up through Covent Garden, past the Porterhouse beer hall on Maiden Lane. Saint Martin in the Fields was to my right. On the STrand I ducked into the Coal Hole, packed with middle aged white tourists eating midday pub meals, and used their latrine. All this food made me realize how hungry I was.

I walked down through Embankment Gardens, climbed the stairs and crossed the bridge, which was closed to motor vehicle traffic to allow some kind of bicycle event to take place. Bikes were everywhere. I walked fast, eager to get over the river and out of the west end horror. On the Southbank I entered the National Theatre cafe and bought a double machiato. Further along I saw a food truck and bought some chips, so trashy that no amount of salt could make them taste of anything. 

Finally reaching the Tate, my bag was searched - a novelty - and I wandered in the Turbine Hall. I made my way to the Vaults and explored this whole new side to the gallery.

Among the interesting works I viewed were:

- Jenny Holzer neon language work

- Stephen Shore photography

- The small 'Unofficial Actions' exhibition

Ana Lupus - 'The Solemn Process'

Aldo Mireiles - 'Babel'

Suzanne Lacy - 'The Crystal Quilt'

Victor Pivovarov 

  Helio Oiticica - 'Tropicalia'

After exploring the new side to the Tate quite thoroughly I was exhausted, but still spent some time in the bookshop. I was particularly intrigued by books on Brion Gysin, Leonora Carrington and  Naoya Hatekeyama.

Back outside the streets and pavements were still frantic, especially when winding my way through Borough Market (although all the burgers and pulled pork sandwiches looked incredible), but I finally reached London Bridge and got on a train to Canada Water. There I changed to the Overground, to Dalston Junction. Here it was refreshingly unpopulated by tourists (despite myself), and I wandered until I found Cafe Oto where I needed to go. 

I met friends, beers were drunk and laffs were had. We discussed Shane MacGowan, Frances Farmer, exotica, and chicken wings. We were here for a showcase of the Chocolate Monk label and we saw two acts. The first was far too po-faced and offered nothing that I hadn't seen done better twenty years ago. The next with label head Dylan Nyoukis himself and 4 other characters was properly amuising and I laughed and laughed.  

Here's Dylan Nyoukis solo from last year in a totally different context.