And so it came to pass that the local authority in Bethnal Green deemed the W.S.Bartlett building the perfect place to erect cheap student accommodation. That a thriving gallery space had existed there for the last year was of no consequence to them, down it must come. Thus, we gathered for the last time on that blustery rooftop, to pay homage to Tortured Artist and his crew and see the old place off with a somber little gathering, quiet contemplation and birdsong.
Ha, fat chance, instead we have a fuckwackdoodly balls-to-the-wall Hooliebashjam-athon. (a party so big, it requires new words to describe it) Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of art going on too. Dunebug did the installation you see above involving a caravan of clay boxes being dragged through various holes and some cathartic hammering. TA did some of his distinctive daubing and profound doodles. A lot of insects gave up their limbs in the name of fashion jewelery. Art was definitely there, but so was everyone else. By 2a.m the place was seething and the Bastard Sons of Bass had already been on the decks for 3 hours. Much to the relief of the crowd, we'd taken over from the noisecore four piece 'band' who'd punished everyone beforehand with a diabolical cacophony that couldn't even hide behind the term avant-garde it was so shite. We banged it out to the very limit of both our tune collection and our bladder capacity. With a distinct lack of ablution in the place, the men were forced to take measures, ahem, into their own hands and pee off the roof into the alley below. I'm not wild about such fetid behavior, but desperate times etc, and anyway, the whole place is being demolished next week which is the kind of giant pisser you just can't top.
Hopefully the legacy of Bartlett will live on, perhaps to be reincarnated elsewhere, we can only but hope.
B
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