Nathan Webb at the Drawers Gallery Tonight

Pub cellars traditionally are not the most inviting places, damp, cold, dark holes, often the dwelling place of furry four pawed mammals of the rodent variety. Unsurprisingly such Dickensian rooms are often off limits to the general public and mask a multitude of sins. There is however, one pub in East London who aims turn such preconceptions on there head by opening its cellar to the public. Drawers Gallery launches tonight in the basement of the infamous Haggerston Pub, Dalston. On display will be works by Nathan Webb, showcasing a selection of sculpture, images and 'doodles'. The show runs until the 22nd June.

From From London Fields with Love...

To work or not work?

There comes a time for most people, well I say most, really I can only speak for myself, I've faced this problem several times - when you have to decide whether to take a side step or even a back step on a career path in order to move forward. This is the situation I face right now, no money, no job on the horizon, I signed at a recruitment agency yesterday. I could point out at this juncture that nowadays in the light of the economic downturn it is a common peril for graduates and struggling creatives everywhere. Selling out to the capital sector is the least of my worries, playing CV roulette, moving further away from the industry you want to be in is scary. It all adds to the fear of being trapped, the fear of not being taken seriously, the fear of being pushed into one direction and not being able to get back. You take a long deep breath and repeat this will help me move forward, this is taking me closer to my dream, this is the sensible choice. After signing on for over a year I feel I have no other choice, for the time being anyho.

I guess it helps to have a battle plan, a structure, a goal, with that in sight I need money to fund my adventures. I pray that I end up in a decent office, with a least one good person around me, someone on my wavelength, these places can be unfriendly to people like me, they sense I don't belong, the know I find the work dull and tedious.

The last job I undertook was for a few months in the build up to Christmas, I was 'between jobs' (skint and had enough of interning), I worked with two other secretaries, there wasn't a great deal of work and the department was restructuring, the induction was rubbish and I sat around waiting to be told what to do. We were trapped in the corner of an already empty office, surrounded by hot desks, it was grim. It was around the time of the crash, in the peak of the recession, people were being laid off left right and centre and there was me, temping. One secretary took a shine to me and we would put the world to rights over a cup of tea. However like all good tales there was a villain and that took the rather rounded shape of a secretary not dissimilar aesthetically or vocally to the late great Jade Goody R.I.P. She was young, modest in intellect and wasn't too happy about the potential threat to her attention levels. Bids for attention had two main threads (along with several splinter subjects, all essential and thoroughly important) ordering clothes from Next Directory, receiving such items, discussing fit and function at great length, the delay on the nest delivery and so on. And second to none 'her Kevin' that's 'my Kevin' to you, an older, rather unattractive and slightly problematic boyfriend, when I say problematic I mean co-dependent. 'My Kevin is gonna cook me sausage and mash for tea, My Kevin has just canceled he's out boozing with his mates, My Kevin wants me to pick him up but he's drunk, I best do it if I want to stay at his tonight, I have to see him everyday'. Listening to her was painful, smiling and nodding when I just wanted to ram the size 14 boob tube down her neck complete with tags and plastic wrapping.

Fortunately for me, Miss Goody understood I was a threat to the precarious equilibrium that surrounded her and beat me to it. Her divisive paws sunk into my role, it was a slow death, clumsily orchestrated. she became pally with the new team leader and whispered daily in her ear about the lack of work, the need to lighten the team, the whole episode lasted a few weeks, I watched as her venom worked it's magic... Being laid off just before Christmas is pretty weak yet upon reflection she actually did me a massive favor it was possibly the worst most tedious job I have ever encountered. As a consequence I immediately signed on the dole and started working at Dazed & Confused. I can only hope my new role will be as destructive with positive productive after tones.

B A C K to the birdsong?

You may be forgiven for thinking I have neglected you, but you are wrong, I have been merely squirrelling away my rather personal thoughts and emotions in a 'Secret Diary of Adrian Mole' fashion. The words appearing from fingertip to screen contain elements of my heart and mind that were too raw, too precious, too exposing to reveal at such time. Perhaps one day they will re-emerge and those going through heartbreak, displacement, life change will be able to relate, or it may be that upon reflection they appear to be the ramblings of a complete lunatic. I have however kept the blog going in spirit, my notes file is rammed to the brim with possible content. I have consciously recorded conversations with my friends on notable movements in the lipstick industry, the fashion world and just about everything I have stumbled upon since my return to the capital city.

For the quandary I face is the direction I take now I'm home, the mind boggles at the possibilities, I am no longer in either Dalston or St Werburghs. London Fields my new place of residence feels so contrived all of the fashion none of the edge, it's true I now live on a council estate, people are getting shot left right and centre, police helicopters overhead, but it's nothing compared to the gritty, smelly, noisy, crack dealing, people pissing outside your front door, house leaning establishment I once dwelled in. There are birds singing, a grassed walkway (sans cars) that plays entrance to my house, a courtyard garden, re-landscaped to accommodate fresh lawn, foxgloves, poppies, honeysuckle and lupins, there is even a palm tree that faces our front door.

(artists impression)

Yet with the change of scenery comes it's own adjustments, the silverfish that have suddenly appeared and set up camp in my room, under my bed to be precise, the window that lets the light in and yet never gets the sun, pah they are all minor hindrances.

silverfish aren't they cute.

I guess the real bug bare that I'm slowly working up to is that now I'm back, actually back, I'll have to get off my arse and do something, oh buggar!