Tag: sketchbook

Northcote Road, Battersea

A new café opened up on Northcote Road. It’s one of these generic pretend French ones with a name that is already forgotten (at tim elf writing, I actually think it has already closed down – probably out of sheer blandness). The best bit about it is the street view. From this side of the road, near the Battersea Rise end, you can see quite far up the road. I think it is actually my only drawing looking South on Northcote Road.

There’s scaffolding on the Co op, and that’s Wakehurst Road church in the distance. I’d always thought it lost its spire in the war, but recently learned it was taken down in the early 70s because slates were sliding off!

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Two girls in an Irish bar, Fukuoka 2011

Sat in an Irish bar in Fukuoka with a friend on a balmy night. It’s got all the requisite dark wood and whiskies. There is room for a total of seven people, including the barman. Everyone was talking. I could only just get the basic drift of the Japanese conversation. I was drinking and scribbling away.

I gave this picture to the girl in the corner. She was delighted with it and pointed it on the wall in the bar. She then left with her friend and I spoke to her outside and she gave me her card. When I went back in the bar, the remaining occupants exploded with laughter, except the barman. I learned the girl was his girlfriend. Whoops.

He was extraordinarily gentlemanly about it all and I think we were OK after that. The picture was still pinned to the wall next time we visited.

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Bus downtown, Santa Cruz 2006

Bus downtown, Santa Cruz 2006

Santa Cruz is a beautiful town. It seems also to exist in its own parallel universe, slightly out of sync with everywhere else. Almost everyone is a bit eccentric. Sometimes in ways that would be an instant jail card in the rest of the US.

The bus, however. No one told me it was crazier than anywhere else. I loved the bus! This drawing is on my first trip to Capitola Mall…

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Welcome to LA

No one walks in LA. I went for a walk. I actually regretted it. I hated LA the first time I went and left later that day. LAX security were assholes, the taxi driver was an asshole, the concierge at my hotel (The Biltmore!) was an asshole, the room was shit (smashed window, broken glass on the floor unmade bed with dirty sheets). I was moved into THREE different rooms (at 3am). The Biltmore lobby was beautiful, but the hotel is a fleapit! Everyone was an asshole in LA, except the day manager who booked me cheap flight THE FUCK OUT OUT OF LA, booked a taxi, and sent a bell hop to get my bags. That was the best bit – leaving LA.

I liked it a lot better the next time, thanks Novica!  🙂

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Two girls chatting, Café Tabac, Liverpool 1994

Café Tabac. This is the old Café Tabac. Diagonal tongue and groove backed highlight strips in deep red, table tops finished in cork that was always a bit sticky. French Onion soup with a massive chunk of dried bread by way of a crouton. There’re ghosts. It was a communication hub before we had mobile phones. You popped in after a day in town (usually cold and windswept, if not always saturated with rain) and there’d be someone you know with a story to tell.

I have drawn this café and occupants a thousand times. I have probably consumed more cups of coffee here than any other café anywhere. I just found this picture in an old sketchbook. There’s more to come.

It’s been done up now. They moved the counter/bar to the other side. The walls are bit bare and there’s definitely something lacking. Not knocking the new staff, but at that time, the staff were pretty full on characters and not hiding meekly out the way behind the counter – but somehow, it sort of is still the same Tabac too.

 

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