Down Burditt (sic) Road.<\/p>\n
http:\/\/www.theinternationale.com\/PATHgreetings\/
\nA photographic exhibition that takes us from Pulp to ‘The Street Where You live.<\/p>\n
Mile End
\nBy: Pulp<\/p>\n
We didn’t have nowhere to live
\nWe didn’t have nowhere to go
\n’til someone said “I know this place off Burditt Road.”
\nIt was on the fifteenth floor
\nIt had a board across the door
\nIt took an hour to pry it off and get inside
\nIt smelt as if someone had died
\nThe living-room was full of flies
\nThe kitchen sink was blocked
\nThe bathroom sink not there at all<\/p>\n
Ooh, it’s a mess alright
\nyes it’s… Mile End<\/p>\n
And now we’re living in the sky
\nI’d never thought I’d live so high
\nJust like Heaven
\nIf it didn’t look like Hell
\nThe lift is always full of piss
\nThe fifth floor landing smells of fish
\nNot just on Friday, every single other day
\nBelow the kids come out tonight
\nThey kick a ball and have a fight
\nAnd maybe shoot somebody if they lose at pool<\/p>\n
Ooh, it’s a mess alright
\nYes it’s… Mile End<\/p>\n
Oo-ooh
\nNobody wants to be your friend
\n’cause you’re not from round here, ooh
\nAs if that was something to be proud about
\nThe pearly king of the Isle of Dogs
\nFeels up children in the bogs
\nDown by the playing fields
\nSomeone sets a car on fire
\nI guess you have to go right down
\nBefore you understand just how
\nHow low, how low a human being can go<\/p>\n
Ooh, it’s a mess alright
\nYes it’s… Mile End.<\/p>\n
When we started talking over how to approach the reverse on work on these Mile End Estates we felt very strongly that this community was going to have a tough time during the building process. Many many new dwellings were to be created in this ugly, ignored little corner of the borough. The original blocks of flats had been built forty years earlier. They had been lushly planted. There still remained a few of the glorious cherry trees. Some devoted hand had grafted White and pink trees together. When they were in bloom these streets and square must have been glorious. Lots of the resident here had lived with streets of the flats they now rented for generations.<\/p>\n
My colleague had grown up on these streets. We both knew that this was the heart of the east end, thaws people. The buildings were being dwarfed and altered, the corner pubs and the shops and the markets had all gone. Like a species of wonderful creatures living in a rainforest, the environment of the people here was being decimated and they were feeling threatened with extinction.<\/p>\n
A real cockney community.
\nI needed to meet people, and listen to them. <\/p>\n
Bit by bit I got to know a few of the women and gradually they decided that although I was an outsider, (I have only lived in east london since the mid 80’s) I was ok, and they started talking.
\n They told me about their stories of the places they had seen changing. The memories of where they played, where they had parties to celebrate Royal events, who had lived where and who was related to whom. I heard about tragedies and laughed myself to tears at the dry wit of the women.<\/p>\n
Over the last year I have got to know people better and better. It takes me ages to move through the area sometimes, so many people to stop and listen to, so many stories and so many lives unfolding . <\/p>\n
Every door and window has a story cluster. There are possibilities we are sharing, plans we are making together to bring back the best bits of the habitat. <\/p>\n
I am a little bit in love with all of this.
\nThe pictures I started taking began to look very different as the landscape came to life through the stories or place I was being given. I felt as though I wanted to share this new way of seeing Mile End.
\nWhat better way to do this than a set of postcards. ‘Greetings from Mile End.’<\/p>\n
And the song in my head had changed. <\/p>\n
On the Street Where You Live.<\/p>\n
I have often walked down this street before;
\nBut the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before.
\nAll at once am I Several stories high.
\nKnowing I’m on the street where you live.
\nAre there lilac trees in the heart of town?
\nCan you hear a lark in any other part of town?
\nDoes enchantment pour Out of ev’ry door?
\nNo, it’s just on the street where you live!
\nAnd oh! The towering feeling
\nJust to know somehow you are near.
\nThe overpowering feeling
\nThat any second you may suddenly appear!
\nPeople stop and stare. They don’t bother me.
\nFor there’s no where else on earth that I would rather be.
\nLet the time go by, I won’t care if I
\nCan be here on the street where you live.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Down Burditt (sic) Road. http:\/\/www.theinternationale.com\/PATHgreetings\/ A photographic exhibition that takes us from Pulp to ‘The Street Where You live. Mile End By: Pulp We didn’t have nowhere to live We didn’t have nowhere to go ’til someone said “I know this place off Burditt Road.” It was on the fifteenth floor It had a board […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-261","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-1-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","no-title","meta-position-left-pullout","fix"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/261","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=261"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/261\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":262,"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/261\/revisions\/262"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=261"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=261"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theinternationale.com\/pennywilson\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=261"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}