Harringay, Haringey - So Good they Spelt it Twice!
"You see but you do not observe" - On walking and seeing your neighbourhood
I like to think that I'm an observant walker; that I notice the unusual, the out of place and the weirdness of everyday life.
Art is Trash in Warham Road
I take pleasure in spotting small flashes of extraordinary beauty in my neighbourhood.
Ducketts Common Wild Flower meadow
However, a winter read by Alexandra Horowitz, On Looking: About Everything There is to See about her walks with various experts in her New York neighbourhood, gives me pause for thought. Do I see the same streets as a geologist, an ornithologist, a toddler, a dog? The book reveals to me that there can be many different views of a neighbourhood.
A 'boring' street is, in fact, a riot of colour, shape, sensation and interestingness to a small boy or girl with little language - just stroll with a newly walking child to know this is true. A trip to the shops becomes as exciting as a hike in the Amazon jungle and takes just as long; that ‘dull’ road that you trudge every day, rain or shine, is a dog social network every bit as exciting to your canine pal as Twitter is to...well...me.
To someone who knows all about beetles, bugs and butterflies, your leafy avenue is a living habitat, literally buzzing. A birder will spot the sounds and traces of our feathered friends battling the encroachment of noise and pollution in these mean streets. To a geologist, those walls and pavements are a map of thousands of years of Earth history - yes, even tarmac (which is petroleum residue with some rocks and sand chucked in. ‘It’s “pure”; it is even recycled.’ ).
Our streets in Harringay are a history lesson to those so inclined, with its rows of villas, built to house the ‘respectable’ clerks of the city and their families at the turn of the 20th century, on land that had previously been farms and quiet villages - the Welsh slate, ‘hideous tiles and terracotta’, as Betjeman puts it in his essay collection, Tea and Buttered Toast, brought into London, where such ‘strident materials were previously unknown’, by the brand new railways for customers whose demand for the new resulted in some often strange combinations. (Betjeman also reminds us in his essay that ‘new always means good’ is still a trap we humans can frequently fall into.) The changing shops on the High Street are a constant reminder of the political changes and upheavals that make refugees or economic migrants of many across the world. An uncovered ghost sign on a shop brings echoes of times when the Harringay Arena heard the sweet sounds of Paul Robeson singing or the Stadium reverberated to the sounds of March of the Mods, rather than the constant drone of cars full of shoppers. You can see the past, it’s still there.
Perhaps you’re a gardener or simply appreciative of the changing seasons and so your eye is drawn to the flowering cherry tree, the hollyhocks bursting through fences, the drooping heads of marigolds full of seeds which you tuck into your pocket as you pass, the glory of a front garden full of roses, the many shades of berries from the pyracanthas in the Harringay Passage, the smell of jasmine in high summer...
In Horowitz's book, there were chapters I was less interested in; such as the walk with the doctor diagnosing on the fly, although there were lessons learned about observing people as individuals and not simply obstructions; or the walk with the artist in which I didn't feel particularly convinced by the artistic possibilities of an abandoned sofa, although she’s probably right in her advice to never pass up the opportunity to poke your head around an open door - last week, I found a wall full of charming Byzantine and post-Byzantine icons by poking my head around a door in Manor House. The chapter on fonts wasn’t one to particularly enthuse me, although I’m aware that for graphic designers a comic sans in the wrong place can be like a dagger through the eye.
Icons in Hackney
Others, such as observing how people *behave* on the street, I found utterly absorbing and would dearly love to send to our planners and developers to read before they drive all real life from the pavements.
I thoroughly enjoyed the book, picked up by chance, and will be re-reading certain chapters through the year, as well as mentally adding chapters of my own, as the weather improves and me and my little camera go wandering.
It also inspired me to make a New Year's resolution to take time to ‘stand and stare’ (try this - someone will certainly stop to see what you are interested in and share their pleasure/confusion/opinion) and to see familiar routes as constantly refreshing and renewing themselves across days, weeks, years.
Or to take a quote from a writer, John Burroughs, mentioned in the book, "To find new things, take the path you took yesterday."
Tags for Forum Posts: books
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by Hugh on
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Interesting book and great to see it focussed at the neighbourhoods level. One of the things I find rewarding in many London streets is to get your eyes above street level. Back in 2007, I put a set of pictures on Flickr of some of the oft missed architectural detailing along Harringay's Section of Green Lanes. On many streets there's plenty to see there as well as at eye level.
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Permalink Reply by Liz on
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I thought of you when I wrote the bit about not passing up the opportunity to poke your head around an open door as evidenced by some of your blog posts (and on the odd occasion being out with you when you dive in somewhere 'for a look')
With regard to looking up I totally agree, I can recall after Albert Pinching's talk on Wood Green how pleased I was to spot the past staring back at me above Poundland and beside BHS just as he had said.
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Permalink Reply by Alan Stanton on
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A neice of mine lives abroad. It's a joy to walk with her when she visits London. Not only does she observe with a fresh eye, but always prompts me to go closer; or view things from different angles. Or to "Look up!" - as her far better eyesight can spot a statue or decoration up near a rooftop.
One pleasure - and frustration - of carrying a camera as a third eye is later seeing treasure you missed when framing your ostensible subject. It might be a reflection in a shop window. Or the colours of the sky. Or the often easy grace of people's arms and bodies as they talk or walk with friends and family.
Your description of Alexandra Horowitz's book reminded me of a poem I read long ago. All I remember is that it tells of parents on holiday with a small child. And while they were inspired by palaces and churches, he delighted in a lizard on a rock. And while they arrive home sadly to grey skies and work, he is overjoyed to see the family pets again. Anyone know the poem and author?
As well as the city's sights, there are the sounds. Sometimes I shut my eyes and just listen. The sociologist Les Back writes that: "You never hear what you are listening for". This is from a chapter in The Art of Listening headed "London Calling". He wants us to let our imagination be captured by the sounds of the city. Since 7 July 2005, he says, "our city not only sings, it cries".
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I think you would enjoy this book, Alan. Alexandra Horowitz walks with a blind person who uses sound and 'the breeze' (airflow) to navigate the streets and a sound engineer who tracks the soundscape and its connection to memory too. On the page I linked to, there is a video of the author going for a quick walk around the block.
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We'll all miss things that are in frame as we compose a photo sometimes, Alan. If you want to improve your chances of observing in the moment (and incidentally stand to improve your photography at the same time), you may think about taking a few (more?) moments to observe the scene and mentally compose the photo before you put the camera to your eye.
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Permalink Reply by empyrean_aisles on
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There is a podcast that I love called 99 Percent Invisible which describes itself as being about design, but often they have excellent shows about the built environment. Here, for instance, is one about the hidden staircases of Los Angeles; another recent one was on the history, and the sociality, of revolving doors. The people who do the show are all about drawing people's attention to aspects of the world - both human-constructed and natural - that they might not otherwise have noticed, and thus understanding their cities and neighbourhoods a little better. If you like podcasts, this one is definitely worth a try.
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