I’m hardly a fan, but by process of elimination Ken gets (has got) my vote. Sorry, Boris; I just don’t believe you’d be up to the task.

Fingers crossed for status quo. I am, as ever, the political conservative (note capitalisation). And, like Ken, a card-carrying Londoner. Besides, Ken’s a Tulse Hill lad.

Most excellent literary magazine The Edgeless Shape (’a collection of new words and pictures’) has published my longish piece ‘How to Build a City’ as an A2 poster pull-out. Perfect for framing, or at least blu-tacking to the wall / any wall. It’s a kind of poem/essay/travelogue hybrid, set in and around Liverpool Street Station.

The poster itself is a thing of beauty, designed by Oli Smith. The magazine, also, is worth checking out - this issue contains interviews with Joe Dunthorne and Dockers MC, reviews of Will Self, Persepolis &c. Big congrats to all involved, especially Michael Donkor and Caleb Klaces, who edited my piece with great care.

That incorrigible ruffian Barraclough has infected me with some foul blogging game. I must, it seems, pass it on.

Rules of Tagging

Post these rules on your blog
Write six random things about yourself in a blog post
Tag six people of your own
Stick in a link for each person tagged
Let each person know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
Let the tagger know your entry is up

So, here we go…

ONE: I used to run the UK’s most popular skateboarding website when I was a teenager. It was called Colony and I even had my own team of gnarly skater dudes. If you see me around wearing a bright red t-shirt (underneath, always, a tasteful shirt), that’ll be one of my spare Colony tees. One of my favourite skate spots was Stockwell Skate Park aka Brixton Beach.

TWO: I am related, quite distantly, to the actor Paul McGann, through my mother’s side.

THREE: My favourite longrunning television show is ITV’s The Bill.

FOUR: One of the first poems I ever wrote hangs, framed, in my dad’s house. It’s called ‘Spring’ and contains the excellent end rhyme ‘beautiful’ / ‘fluteable’. Rocking the neologisms in primary school. Yeah.

FIVE: I am an only child. Biology, innit.

SIX: I have an enviable collection of condiments, particularly mustards, which I adore. Everything from coarse-cut Dijon to French’s American hotdog. If you’re a Facebook type, search for ‘London Condiment Society’ to find out more. If you’re so inclined.

I tag:

David Caddy
Ben Hoare
Anthony Joseph
Nathan Hamilton
Scott Pack
Brooklyn Copeland

Last week my girlfriend and I went to see a new exhibition at the Barbican Art Gallery. The Martian Museum of Terrestrial Art invites us to step into an exhibition of objects, paintings, photographs and installations assembled by alien curators. Martian hieroglyphs decorate the walls. Copper tracks embedded in the gallery floor direct us to areas with titles like ’Totems’, ‘Icons’ and ’Kinship Diagrams’. The Museum’s Director is one “Dr Klaatu” (it’s really Francesco Manacorda and Lydia Yee).

I must confess I found this concept utterly absorbing. Our imaginary, extraterrestrial curators guide us through the strange detritus of human culture in a kind of quasi-anthropological exercise. What we call ‘art’ becomes a window onto our world-view with all its foolish desires, irrational rituals, foibles and fantastical screw-ups. The cult of the celebrity artist (there are Hirsts and Warhols here) is exploded - the individual genius just another member of the tribe. Futurist-primitivist folk-art.

As someone who has neither the aesthetic/critical vocabulary nor the patience for much of what passes for contemporary art, The Martian Museum gave me a way in. Curation here is not about networking, sycophancy, critical knowledge or money; it’s an act of collection, classification and presentation. A neutral, scientific process. This was the least pretentious gallery experience I’ve had in years.

I’ll say only a little about the objects themselves. Because really the individual artefacts are secondary to the Museum itself, in this case. Plus, it’s quite patchy. There’s some real try-hard stuff, particularly in the first few rooms, and plenty of very knowing intertextuality. Which is fine, if you get the references. Actually, I did get the references, and I didn’t find any good jokes, or, well, anything at all. But there are also some remarkable finds. I loved Cornelia Parker’s work, particularly her series of A to Zs, in which famous London landmarks have been destroyed by the flames of imaginary meteorites, revealing multiple layers of mapping beneath. Also, Jeffrey Vallance’s ‘Santa Claus Family Tree’, commissioned especially for the Museum, and pictured below.

One of our favourite groupings was separated from the main area in a little side gallery. I think it was called the Department of Unidentified Objects (a neat wink to UFOs), and it felt like stepping into a scene from the start of the computer game Half-Life. Many of the most intriguing exhibits were not only deliberately presented as curios; the ‘artworks’ themselves were the products of a painstaking process of collection and classification. Some good examples appeared in the Museum’s ‘Relics’ section. Think scraps of Elvis’s shag-pile or a large and totally absorbing (I kid you not) collection of ties sent to or received from world leaders by artist Jeffrey Vallance. Oh, I’ve mentioned him twice now. He must be good!

Over at the Indy, Charles Darwent concludes his mainly positive review of the Martian Museum by suggesting that the exhibition’s concept is an attempt to pander to some DCMS accessibility agenda, adding:

Which is a shame, because it is quite possible to come out of this exhibition thinking it has all been a bit of a joke, when it is actually deeply serious and rather clever.

I’m no art critic but I can’t help but think that the humour of the Martian Museum - the tongue-in-cheek, slightly silly tone maintained throughout - is intrinsic to its success. And frankly, the thought of something ’actually deeply serious and rather clever’ doesn’t really appeal to me. Especially not on my birthday.

Easier said than done, this commissioned writing lark. I’m used to letting language lead the way in a spontaneous, organic fashion; the ‘poetry on demand’ approach is trickier and demands a lot of patience, although it is, to a degree, time-limited. I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to come up with in my residency at The Bishopsgate Institute, but I hope it covers quite a few bases. In fact, I’d echo what Roddy Lumsden has to say. He’s just finished writing poetry with/for Kate Moss in a project called Flowers4Kate. This is from an early entry in his residency diary.

I’ve been on the set for a couple of hours now, watching as things are being prepared. I’m not sure how many poems I’m going to produce, but I want to create a variety of pieces, some unusual, others more conventional. Since flowers are central to the shoot, I’ve brought some books with me which contain information on the lore and language of flowers. I want to start by creating a sing-song list poem which incorporates plant names and their derivations, plant lore and uses, mixed in with more abstract phrases which occur to me as I make my notes. I’m taking care not to make it too ‘flowery’.

The good news is that I’ve now got three finished poems. I say finished - they may well change over the course of this month. ‘Mr Bradlaw’s Fishing Tackle’ is set in the Institute’s library and is a reworking of ‘Megalithic Software’ (below); ‘The Blackpool Mile’ is based on memories of living and working in the East End (thanks Laurie); ‘Queer things in Egypt’ is a looser, less narrative/observational piece which focuses on ideas of inwardness and outwardness, I guess - the title refers to a lecture given at the Institute in 1940 by one Rev. GW Kerr.

The Bishopsgate Institute’s library is the more surprising the further you delve. I spent a good few hours there yesterday, reading and writing. Well, scribbling is probably a more accurate word. The library spans two large rooms - gorgeous, proper bookcases and lots of wood everywhere. A frosted glass partition separates a staff area in the second room. A funky spiral staircase leads to a gallery, which is off-limits to the public. This is where the Institute’s substantial London collection is to be found. Some very esoteric items, and some beautiful ones too. I spotted a copy of the famous-ish Liber Albus (not original) and several important City documents such as The Ordnance of the Stationer’s Company (16something). Also lots of books on pubs.

The library was very busy at lunchtime, with a diverse (age/race/dress) crowd. During the afternoon it was a bit clearer but always in use for various purposes, including computer access as well as the more traditional reading, researching etc.

In the morning I met up with Anna Salaman, Director of Public Programmes. Her office is high up in the oldest part of the Institute. What strikes me when talking to staff here is that everyone finds the Bishopsgate inspiring. Anna ran through the plans and policies of the Institute - particularly important in the run-up to a major refurbishment/development project - but she was also personally passionate about the building, the organisation, its history, current and future role, and so on.

Here’s a poem, or poetic notes, unfinished, temporary, or what you will.

Megalithic Software

Yes, he keeps his jacket on
keeps his hat on, holds
A Concise Dictionary of Theology
to the light, rustles The Bible
flicks through New Scientist

sniffs

leaves

The network flickers
in and out of connectivity

liverpoolfc.com
fixtures and results
flash up. scroll, scroll, click

no use for Burke’s Peerage
(sponsored by Schweppes)
Megalithic Software
three volumes of Stowe’s Survey
Bygone Kent and

Cockney Ancestor

The day’s ephemera
collects right here

If you could only catch
our words between the
thick leather covers of
Punch, 1888. But she

types with furious speed
then stops, surfs away
to check her emails

smiles, puffs out her cheeks
then giggles, at her side
an antiqued Filofax
the same weft and weight
of Mr Bradlaw’s fishing tackle

It’s my birthday today (Tuesday). I am 25.

More importantly I am seriously wetting myself at the prospect of the Beeb’s new series The Medieval Mind. Even the teaser ad is a thing of beauty.

Today was a good day. First, a meeting with the lovely Will Carr, Director of The Poetry School. Swanky little office in Lambeth Walk, shared with Poetry London (for whom I’ve just written three reviews) and two doors down from Spread the Word. A literary enclave, sort of. Will recently moved down to London from Manchester, where he was an Arts Council head, and is finding his feet in this vibrant scene of ours. We agreed that these are good times for poetry.

Stunning Spring light. Took the 344 back to Liverpool Street. Just beyond Southwark Bridge a beautiful young woman caught her shoe on the paving, stopped, gloriously self-assured in a tight grey skirt, to reheel, glancing back towards the river before continuing her journey with a flick of black hair. I love this City.

After a swift half with Tim Wells in The Golden Heart, Spitalfields, I headed over to The Bishopsgate to meet one the Institute’s most loyal ‘users’. Pensioner Laurie has got to be one of the most fascinating people I’ve met for some time. A former wine butler, amongst other things, he grew up in the East End and has been visiting the BI since his 20s when he lunched in the Institute’s canteen. Thank God I recorded the interview; there’s no way I could have scribbled down all the memories, anecdotes, facts and tid-bits he came up with! His stories about playing in the bomb sites in the 50s were particularly absorbing. Each site had its own schoolboy nickname, like ‘Black Panther’ (Bishopsgate), ‘Chinatown’ and ‘The America Hole’ (Aldgate). My head’s already buzzing with ideas for the poems I have to come up with during the Residency!

I popped back later in the afternoon to join a talk given by the Bishopsgate’s larger-than-life Archivist, Stef Dickers, to an assembly of staff members. I’ll be spending a lot of time in the Library, which houses a great collection of books, magazines and ephemera on London history. Particular emphasis on labour movements and radical politics. They also have a copy of Ackerman’s Microcosm of London, which contains illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, of whom I’m a big fan. Stef has promised to show me the Archives in the basement, and Clive, one of the technicians there, has promised to take me up to the roof. Yeah!

More from the Bishopsgate next week…

A kind of folly this: girl walks by,
cloth bag hooked over polka-dot arm.
Aviators against the world. Sons and
daughters cries the stereo. Here are the bombs
that fade away. Misheard; and I’m waiting
to record the moment weather changes.

I can see into your room when the lights are on.
We are watching the same telly, switch from
sport to docudrama. The heat from the backs
of your legs at night. Little fool. Little ugly.

This is folly. Scrap funbags. The way
a building sits in its locale. I can spot
subsidence, having seen the programme.

If I gave you my heart would it find a good home?

Myths and Legends of the Celts.
Bloodfeud.
Cannabis Culture.

‘Future Love’ owes something to Joe Dunthorne’s poem ‘Future Dating’. Sorry Joe. But remember, we agreed all poetry is theft, right?

You heard it here first…

This series, curated by Bishopsgate Institute’s Poet in Residence Tom Chivers, will introduce some of London’s most exciting poets - writers whose work explores the complex, fluid and multivocal character of the City. Alongside their readings Tom will also premiere his own new work produced during the Residency.

Visions of the City I - Thursday 5 June

Oblique, bleak bloke Tim Wells has supported The Libertines with his riotous ‘Cockney Hell’ poetry show and his collection Boys Night Out In The Afternoon (Donut) was nominated for the prestigious Forward Prize.

Simon Barraclough’s debut collection of poetry Los Alamos Mon Amour (Salt) has not yet been launched but is already creating a stir. According to The Guardian, Los Alamos ‘wheels through forms, moods and locations around a sensual core of love poems’.

Jay Bernard is fast establishing a reputation as one of the UK’s most talented young writers with her poetry collection Your Sign is Cuckoo, Girl and has performed at venues across the country including the London Respect Slam.

Visions of the City II - Thursday 3 July

Iain Sinclair is the de factor chronicler of contemporary London. Poet, novelist, essayist, anthologist, filmmaker and former book dealer, Sinclair has been described as ‘incomparable … the De Quincy of English letters’ by Peter Ackroyd. He is the author of numerous books of fiction, non-fiction and poetry, the latest of which is London: City of Disappearances (Hamish Hamilton).

Chris McCabe’s poetry is raw, energetic and experimental, covering topics as diverse as Iraq, fatherhood and Pete Doherty. His second collection of poetry is published this year with the provisional title Zeppelins and follows his acclaimed debut The Hutton Inquiry.

Hannah Silva is a young, fast-talking poet, performer and theatre director from Devon. Her City Fragments captures the speed, energy and contradictions of 21st century urban life.

Both events are held in the Bishopsgate Institute’s Library, which has limited capacity, and start at 7pm. Tickets are £7, £5 concessions. Booking is essential (details here).