Since I see life through a constantly changing set of framed viewpoints, I am extremely sensitive to any threatened change to my quite literal view of the world.
Any threat to refurbish or renovate. Any faded plastic notice strung up on a lamp post giving notice of a new build or major works. My enjoyment nowadays of every open green aspect in my locality is tainted by the certain knowledge that someone, somewhere, is plotting to build on it.
It’s the same everywhere. I realize that much of the time it happens with good cause and with the best of intentions and a touch of regret, but I think what I dread most is the not knowing. The not knowing of what the new picture will be like. Of the consequential effect on surrounding light, abstract patterning, the world around.
Above is a view I have been familiar with for years, and which I tried hard not to get too attached to because I knew it would be set to disappear.
The luminous view I have is one of pleasing angled planes and colour and shadow. But viewed from higher up, you observe the serious decay of a 19th century rabbit warren concealed within. From the street level the entire block is a complete eyesore even for me. And viewed from further along the road, the higher frontage to the left is a mass of grim, grey, discolored plasterwork. And so it is now scheduled for demolition and the tarpaulins are in place and I’m probably the only soul even remotely likely to shed a tear for it.
There are times when I think it would be much easier to see the world around as something other than a constant series of paintings hung for my pleasure.