Medway Eyes Goes To College

A few weeks ago, artists' collective Medway Eyes was invited by Steve Keevil, a lecturer at Mid-Kent College, to speak to the Creative Media Diploma students there. Eventually, this was arranged via a flurry of Tweets to take place on Thursday 19th November. So, on Thursday morning, I headed off on the bus to meet Steve for a chat over a cheese and Marmite sandwich (college food is great, by the way) to talk through what I would be doing with the class after lunch.

I hadn't prepared anything. Steve had said it wasn't necessary. That's OK. Unpreparedness is one of the things we do best at Medway Eyes. We were set up to put on an exhibition just over a year ago, then it was gigs, then we decided to go multi-media. OK, we know that stuff, but since then we've had to learn a bit of law and PR because of Monaxle's arrest under Section 44 of the Terrorism Act in July, and how to handle local and national press enquiries (two completely different worlds there). Recent weeks have found us attempting to engage, by invitation, with Medway Council about the appalling lack of consultation surrounding the regeneration of Medway and being interviewed by Radio Scilly (myself, Groovy Uncle and Rich Clark on separate occasions - each talking about the free ME1 compilation, as well as our own stuff).

Anyway, enough of that. Back to college.

After a tour of the department, it was time to talk to the students. Fortunately, I had written 750 words on Medway Eyes for Your Medway the evening before, so I took that crystalised idea of what it is into the classroom and proceeded to ramble for half an hour. I likened Medway Eyes to an Indie record label, thanks to a conversation I'd had with former Dentists drummer Ian Smith just moments before leaving the house, and talked about how independence means freedom of expression. I described the promotion of artists from the roots up, how the collective was inspired by the Medway bands' co-op of the late Eighties, how we thought of the name at the last minute, what had happened in our first year, how we'd put on the most visited exhibition ever at the Brook Theatre gallery, how we operate on a break even basis, how broad our spectrum of contributors is, how they jump in and out of the group on a project by project basis, and so on, and how we need more structure as we expand. As I waffled like an utter arse, I began to appreciate the scope of what we've achieved in our first year and I felt really chuffed, and really appreciative of everything the creative community has contributed to our projects.

Keeping me on the rails, of course, were Steve and the students. They saved me from a random, babbling meltdown a few times with their questions. I must say, too, that I was very impressed with the way the class responded to me, giving me their complete attention, nods, smiles and encouragement even. They could have shouted "Shut up, Beardy", but they didn't, and I'm grateful for that.

The next part of the lesson was a great idea from Steve, who is clearly a very gifted teacher. The eight members of the class were to pair up and interview me on camera, based on the discussion we had just had in the class. I argued that it was only fair that I should photograph them right back, and so that's what happened. I disappeared to the video suite and stared at the interview chair and my camera bag on the table next to it with Nick Cave's "The Mercy Seat" bubbling away in the back of my mind. Then, in they came, two at a time, each pair first trying the wrong door in classic sitcom style.

I was impressed by the care and attention taken by the students operating the massive, intimidating, it's-going-to-eat-you video camera, and by the quality of the questions put to me by the interviewers, who each had very much their own distinct style. I was pleased that I was marginally less random. I described a Medway musician as a "demented talent", when I really didn't mean to use that word at all. "Driven" or "eclectic" or "prolific" might have been better, but apart from that it was a good experience. The whole thing was a good experience that I'd happily repeat, and it was nice to be recognised by the broader community and asked to speak at the college.

Now then, finally...

The new campus is excellent, but it's not as turquoise as the old one. I think that should be fixed, maybe a splash of orange here and there, too.

The video shot by the students will eventually be shared with Medway Eyes and could well go online as long as everybody is happy with that.

My photos from the day can be seen on Flickr.

On behalf of Medway Eyes, I'd like to thank Steve, Bex, Nathan, Michael, David, Luke, Ravina, Millie and Tim for this excellent opportunity.

If You Tolerate This Then Everything Must Go

There was an interesting article in the Medway News today about the ongoing saga of the Theatre Royal. It was put up for auction last week, and nobody wanted it. Why? Well, you'd think the fact that it had been bought for £380,000, strip mined (i.e anything of value sold for salvage) and then demolished except for the listed facade would put potential buyers off from paying the same price at auction. It probably did, but what really put them off was the last minute repair enforcement notice that Medway Council slapped on the building. The auctioneers were legally obliged to inform any potential bidders of this, and duly did so.

Medway Council is now blaming the owners for not making the repairs that they have suddenly decided are required. This is the same council that previously ignored advice to just put some kind of roof on the theatre to simply save it from falling into disrepair.

The Medway News article states that the owner of the theatre is unknown. Received wisdom is that the theatre is owned by a company called Chatham Housing, whose registered address recently received a publicly funded lick of paint in what I'm sure can only be a coincidence, but it does go to show how a little can go a long way on Desolation Row.

On what day of the year will the theatre mysteriously burn down, one wonders? After all, it would make a convenient spot for a car park or an ugly block of flats.

Today, the Theatre Royal. Tomorrow, Aveling and Porter. The day after that, Sun Pier.

I'll be attending the second Chatham Future Forum meeting on Monday on behalf of Medway Eyes. I may rant.

Medway Cultural Strategy

All I can say , is "Go and look at this abomination":

http://www.medwayculturalstrategy.co.uk/

Having done that, have a think abut why I felt it was my civic duty to write the following:

"This may well enthuse career artists and other opportunists, but I am sickened. You cite the towns' heritage in your executive summary (who is that aimed at? It's written in 'Otherspeak'!), while some of the most beautiful things in Medway have either been torn down (the Theatre Royal), are falling down (Sun Pier) or about to be demolished (Aveling and Porter). The genuine, independent creative community in Medway (i.e. those who are not awarding themselves and each other grants and awards on taxpayers' money) are simply trying to galvanise themselves to stop Medway Council from destroying the towns, when we should be diving for pearls".

Comment or ignore. I'll be screaming at the sheer face of dumbed down bullshit. You know where to find me.

Sun Pier is Still Broken

I sent the following email to Medway Council today. Their email address is info@medway.gov.uk.

~

Dear Sir or Madam,

I note that Sun Pier in Chatham has been broken for about a year now, with it's walkway underwater at high tide. I should be grateful if you would tell me when you plan to restore this beautiful public amenity and piece of local heritage to its former glory.

Yours Faithfully,


Phil Dillon
www.phildillon.co.uk

~

I invite anyone reading this to do the same. We have recently seen the Theatre Royal allowed to fall into a state of disrepair to the extent that it was deemed unsafe and had to be demolished. if we do nothing, we can expect the same fate for Sun Pier.

Sun Pier was broken before the last budget round, and the Council can see it from their offices. So why is it still broken?

Those Who Sacrifice Liberty For Security Deserve Neither

Photographers' Rights

You are reminded that under UK law, there are no restrictions on taking photographs in a public place or on photography of individuals, whether they are adults or minors. There is no right to privacy in a public place, although photographers are of course subject to the usual libel laws in the same way as any other citizen and should observe them. Equipment or film may not be confiscated, or images deleted by any person or officer unless a warrant for such action is issued. Any attempt without a warrant is considered assault under UK law.


The Terrorism Act

The Terrorism Act 2000 does not prohibit people from taking photographs or digital images in an area where an authority under section 44 is in place. Officers should not prevent people taking photographs unless they are in an area where photography is prevented by other legislation.

If officers reasonably suspect that photographs are being taken as part of hostile terrorist reconnaissance, a search under section 43 of the Terrorism Act 2000 or an arrest should be considered. Film and memory cards may be seized as part of the search, but officers do not have a legal power to delete images or destroy film. Although images may be viewed as part of a search, to preserve evidence when cameras or other devices are seized, officers should not normally attempt to examine them.

Cameras and other devices should be left in the state they were found and forwarded to appropriately trained staff for forensic examination. The person being searched should never be asked or allowed to turn the device on or off because of the danger of evidence being lost or damaged.

The Lovedays at the Internatonal Pop Overthrow

Hello Readers,

This time last week I was on a train from Chatham to London, crammed in like a sardine and surrounded by Gillingham supporters on their way to Wembley. To make things worse, I was staring down the barrel of a six hour coach journey to Liverpool.

Staying sane and comfortable on such a journey was easier than I thought, and I only felt really sick for the last 45 minutes or so as the coach took a bouncing detour across picturesque countryside to get to Warrington before finally arriving in Liverpool. I'll say this. It's not as glamorous as The Divine Comedy would have you believe.

There was little time to recover. I went straight to my B&B, checked in, grabbed a buffet style dinner from the local supermarket's deli counter and made the bus in seconds flat. Then I got lost in the centre of Liverpool. It's changed a lot since I was last there ten years ago, and I couldn't find my bearings. That's when I heard someone call my name. It was Wes Wren, front man with The Deccas, and he was in the wrong place. He should have been in the Cavern Club. He was due on stage in five minutes. I'd been fortunate to bump into him, and I was soon inside the Cavern Club, cider in hand courtesy of Wes.

The Deccas played a very strong set, stepping up to the occasion with just enough swagger, and a self-deprecating confession that to play the Cavern had been a lifelong ambition. They were very tight and focused, and kept it together even when Phil managed to blow up a house amp during the last song of the set - recovering brilliantly by attacking the mic and doubling up on the vocals with Wes, while Nathan cranked his Hammond up accordingly. I enjoyed hearing their take on the Medway sound pounding round the walls of that prestigious venue, and I took great pleasure in seeing how much the Deccas and their merry band of followers enjoyed themselves.

In Liverpool. On Sunday. With Suzanne Vega's song running through my head and the morning sun to my right I walked from my B&B near Sefton Park down to Toxteth Park Cemetery to take in a bit of light and shadow and collect my thoughts. Today was going to be a long day. The Lovedays were due to play a lunchtime set at the Cavern Pub, followed by the big one - a gig on the front stage at the Cavern Club in the evening. I could keep them busy by using the city as a backdrop for some promotional photography for a fair part of the day, but the waiting was bound to start to get to The Lovedays and their party at some point. In fact, the time passed more quickly that I thought it would, punctuated by the coming and going of different members of the group.

Walking into Mathew Street from the top and seeing Ben and Sam coming towards me from the bottom beaming from ear to ear was a pretty good start to the day's activites, and I immediately set about using the relatively empty street (it was still early) as my set. I took a series of shots of the two of them outside the Cavern Club, drawing on Keith Morris's pictures of Nick Drake and Jurgen Vollmer's Rock and and Roll photo of John Lennon as a starting point. The best of the resultant images accompanies this blog. After a leisurely walk to the docks and back, the rest of the band arrived at the Cavern Pub and it was time to get going.

In no time at all, The Lovedays were on. The pub was pretty full for the time of day, and the Liverpool supporters who had popped in for a couple of early ones before going to Anfield wasted no time in expressing their enthusiasm. "Now that's what it's all about" said one of them, pointing as his friends cheered and nodded in agreement. The Lovedays played a solid set, and were clearly enjoying themselves. At last, it was really happening. Oh, and the sound was excellent. Not sure about all the guitars in glass cabinets though. They looked like caged animals to me.

There were ten of us in the Lovedays' party at this point, and we wanted to see a few Beatle places. Rather than spending too much time and money on a coach tour, we hired two black cabs and off we went. We went to Strawberry Field, and I stood at those red gates just as I had ten years before with a a baby girl in my arms. Suddenly, I missed my family. I always do when I'm away from them. Still, there were photographs to be taken. There's a particularly funny shot that I haven't published, in which Ben turned around and pretended to wee against the wall beneath where the words Strawberry Field are perpetually repainted. One day, perhaps.

After that we went to Woolton, to St Peter's church to say hello to Eleanor Rigby, and then on to Penny Lane via John Lennon's childhood home on Menlove Avenue. I was the only one to get out of the taxi for this stop, crossing the road to grab a couple of shots for posterity. I'd spent a morning in Mathew Street crossing paths with the Ghosts of Beatles Past all morning, but whether or not it was real, I felt something very tangible here. There's no way I could ever cross the threshold into that house. It would suffice to stand quietly, look and imagine. This was close enough.

Back on Mathew Street we fed and watered ourselves and did our best to relax. Ben and Sam went to the Pop Boutique, and Sam came back with a very fetching vintage dress shirt. The time was soon approaching now, and I could sense a shift in mood and focus.

A man in a suit came by, saw the guitar Ben and I were restringing on an outside pub table, and produced a harmonica from his pocket. He played a spot-on rendition of Love Me Do, wished us well and moved on. If I hadn't had my hands full, I would have photographed him. The guitar was mine, by the way, a 1980s, Japanese, cherry red Fender Telecaster that Ben would play in the Cavern Club that evening. I had to get that in ;-)

In the Cavern, an old man in Lederhosen was enjoying the pure pop sound of Honeybug, strumming a rubber chicken in time to the music. Apparently, it's rare to just see the one - they usually move in herds. Two or three bands later, and the Lovedays disappeared into the backstage area. This was it. The next thirty minutes were why we were all here.

David Bash, the IPO's affable organiser introduced the band, announcing that their CD is one of his favourites of the year. I know he's not making it up. He hand picked The Lovedays, and stayed rooted to the spot at the foot of the stage during their set, his arm around his wife's shoulder, smiling broadly throughout.

What ensued was, quite simply, one of the best gigs I've ever seen. The band were as tight as tight can be. The sound was expertly excellent. Sam was like a sort of stylish, effeverscent whirlwind. I saw the previous band's drummer looking on in astonishment. Paul produced a surge of energy from nowhere that seemed to charge the other three. He didn't keep still the whole time. In contrast, Dean was cool, relaxed and playing an assured lead guitar. And Ben? Ladies and Gentlemen, Ben Jones was on fire. David Bash described him as a man possessed in his Facebook status the next day, and he wasn't wrong. I was reminded of Janis Joplin at Monterey, singing Ball and Chain, as the infectious pop of Red Letter Day gave way to a taut, powerful and lean version of John The Revelator. Suddenly, my friend, who I had been hanging out with all afternoon, just passing time, was a giant stage presence. Just like Patti Smith at the Empire in '96. A spellbinding presence. A bona fide star. I knew this would happen and I'd been right. The CDs had sold in seconds too.

Gigs like that remind me why I fell in love with rock and roll. I may never see another gig that good, and it won't matter.

I was at the Cavern Club when The Lovedays played the International Pop Overthrow in 2009.

Testing 1-2-3

A first attempt at blogging via ShoZu. I wonder if it's worked...

Exhibitionism

Good Evening Interweb,

I've been approaching this whole blog business with a bit too much caution. As a new start, I'd like to share what it's like putting an exhibition on and having an opening bash. So, to borrow from Brigadier Ambrose's frontman David Goggins...

In this order:

• Selection: Impossible. One day they're all great and the next day there's nothing worthwhile. Confidence and self doubt. Like swings and roundabouts without the roundabouts.
  
• Framing: Forever. Horrible.
  
• Hanging: Time consuming but fun. Two good friends to muck in and keep me sane. One is a DIY god, so all good.
• Blurb: Info. What and Why? Define yoruself in not enough words or space when definition is unattainable because it's all organically ongoing.
  
• Meet and Greet: Thank you. Well supported and validated by my peers.
• Noodles: Vegetable chow mein. Chopsticks.
• Shagmonroes: Fantastic performance. Then and now. Stylish frontman. Lovely beard.
• Ambience: Best ever. Talk Talk's "Ascension Day" was playing as they came onstage.
  
• Lovedays: Paul Moss is a bit special, innit?
• Cider: Essential.
  
• Jay: We love you. Thank you.
  
• Saturday: Went back. People really engaging with the pictures. Visit from dignitairies. All g00d.
  
• Sunday: Monaxle's portrait! Chillin' like Phil Dillon. Iron Giant on DVD with the kids :-)

Thanks to all,

Phil x

Desolation Row: Blog Entry #1

Tomorrow sees the first shoot for Desolation Row, an ambitious project by Medway Eyes.

A fair few musicians and other artists will be photographed along the Chatham/Rochester high street. There will be documentary video and photography taking place as I attempt to shoot and direct everybody in numerous street scenes, in fancy dress, carrying props, enlivening the street and bringing colour, energy and creativity. There will undoubtedly be music. I have only the broadest of brush strokes in my mind's eye as I write, and I am encouraged by the ideas that are bubbling away within the group and the warmth and enthusiasm with which the project has been met.

It all suddenly became real when the work of Redlock, a street artist, appeared as if by magic on Desolation Row itself, on the edge of the Exposure wasteland, right next to where Red Letter Day was shot. Right where the vision began. The best kick-start imaginable.

We're making it up as we go along. And then we're going down the pub.

More on this story later...



----------------
Now playing: Bob Dylan - Desolation Row
via FoxyTunes

So much to say. So little time.

Hello World.

I'm Phil Dillon.

This is my first ever blog, although I have a modest web presence in other places.

This is the place where I will howl at the moon. Or perhaps just write a little diary.

Today, as a starter/sampler, I would merely like to point out that youths who ride about on BMX bikes that are far too small for them, with their arse cracks visible through their primark pants, look ridiculous.

That's it. My beta post. More later.

Phil.