ECHO 24/2/06

The Flaneur

Some sinister essence through Heron Quays, Canary Wharf, then on towards Limehouse and Shadwell where the seeds of history are more present, brief glimpses through the modern veil something parting, time travel occurring if you take the time to look – a pub called The Artful Dodger, grim, blackened front –
Investigating that area around Greenwich and Deptford and across the river into the Isle of Dogs – inevitable constant reminders of history – the Ravensbourne River close by, bridged first in 1830 – someone once said that the process of investigation was always more interesting than the result, outcome or final story –
Tia Maria cake from Hammersmith Farmers Market in the snow –
A tramp (dirty grey beard, stained pale blue coat, carrier bag) crossing a modern plaza square (little fountains dotted here and there) at an angle to a pretty young businesswoman on her way to work; he can’t take his eyes off her legs – Pavarotti sings ‘M’appari’ on a radio which accompanies the scene – the tramp eventually clashes into a chrome chair outside a café at the edge of the square –
The flaneur is a dying breed, if not dead already; too much fear on the streets to encourage that free roaming – but still that aptitude for walking and observing along an unplanned path, taking note, trying to absorb aspects of place, to allow them beneath the skin; to understand what lies in the brickwork, the people, the historic ‘stain’ with all its repetitions and reasons why certain things happen in a place, even why they have always recurred and attracted certain people or groups or activities – perhaps the flaneur is a vestige of the nomadic, scratching away at the sedentary; by necessity an eccentric governed by this obsession to resurrect archaeology and populate it with the cross-references of fact both past and present and fiction - the closest now is the psychogeographer, far more covert and occult in his/her activity – though perhaps even that behaviour is the influence of the modern city or the times?