11:08 AM

Man seats at the terrace, table next to the one I’m seated. We’re the only people seating on the outside tables. He wears trainers, gray tracksuit pants and a dark blazer with eight badges attached on each collar lapel of the blazer. A small plant (presumably made of plastic) is hanging from the left pocket of the blazer. He has a noticeable white beard.

Young lady?
Me: Yes?
Are those trainers sketchers?
Me: Yes
They’re very nice, I like’em!
Me: Thanks!

He leaves the four plastic bags he was carrying on the chairs, goes in the cafe, I assume he orders something. He gets out and seats on the street bench in front of the cafe, and makes a phone call while rolling a cigarrette. He strats speaking louder on the phone, some of the words I can hear:

11:10 AM

surgery
good news
we figured out that I owe twelve thousand pounds

Still on the phone, he stands up and starts walking in circles near the cafe, looking firmly to the ground.

they are saying that the total amount they are charging for rent is...
If it gets close to that figure, I’m not paying that goddamn money
...look, I just need two things
I’ll ask Julie to do that Tomorrow, no problem.
...where do I get that? Post Office?...Okay.

Man comes back to his table, and asks me a few questions, starting with asking for the price of my trainers. I ask him about his badges. He collects them from every place he goes, and he exchanges them with people he meets. Without asking, he unpins the poppy he is wearing and hands it to me. Then, he starts talking about his life. Some of the facts that stick with me:

1. Best song-writer in the world
2. ex-manager of Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney amongst others

He tells me he has such an american accent because he lived there for 45 years. We share some places we've both been to. He then gives his opinion about Los Angeles; talks about gun control, gangs, race and Donad Trump.

I struggle following what he is saying, but he seems very keen on the conversation, so I listen.

He offers to give me his email address so he can send me some of the songs he's written. I accept. He takes my pen and notebook and carefully writes the address in big letters, pointing out that they should be typed in lowercase when writing the email.

1.

2.

DATE: 14 NOVEMBER 2018
TIME: 11:56 AM
LOCATION: JONESTOWN CAFE, BETHNAL GREEN RD
WEATHER: WARM; SUNNY

Two guys seat on the table next to me, at the cafe, and start talking in Spanish, this gets my attention. Some of the words that I can hear:

12:01 PM

super facil!
Esque antiguamente la bolsa de basura duraba
Saqué la basura ayer, y volvía llena...pero asquerosa...
hay gente en tu piso ahora?
...el plátano salía pa’fuera
pero tío, osea me canso de barrer la cocina, de limpiar el muro, osea tu cuando cocinas manchas el muro, no con que friegues tus cosas ja esta limpio, no, no, tambien pasas un pañito al muro despues de concinar porque eso está lleno de comida, o de restos de no sé...
Nunca tío, nunca!
Ay! no, eso si que es lo que mas pereza me da de la casa. cuando friego, prefiero yo fregar la loza de todos y que otros coloquen la loza
Yo tambien, me baño, y el nudo de pelo, agh!
Hoy he limpiado dos veces y la cocina soy el unico que la ha limpiado
pero qué gracia, no si esque yo creo que de norma general...
claro! sabes, eh, ayer compré una alfombra de baño, así genial, super mona, aquí en los mercadillos que ponen en frente del Tesco! tres pounds tio, para el baño, y hay unas mas grandes para la habitación monísimas
yo compré una de...
como rollo trapera!
...si si si, vi una en el Poundland, como de estas de microfibra. Me dió una pereza tambien...
pero a ver esto es normal, ahí si que no le puedes decir... como mucho que lo deje colgado para que se seque, se escurra en la ducha
A ver pero esque yo entiendo; una vez para una cosa, pero estan pasando ya varias!
A ver lo de la alfombra no, lo de la alfombra, te la tendrías que llevar tu a tu habitación, y es un rollo muy cabrón... Que al final una alfombra es para el baño, si la dejas en el baño, es para que se moje
No, si ya la dejo en el baño...
Ah pues ya esta, por eso...entiende que se moje! Pero bueno, si está muy empapada, cuélgala
...después de la ducha
Son cosas que no todo el mundo hace, ni tiene porque eso es lo que ha visto en casa,
...Nadie limpia la casa, nadie tira la basura! Nadie guarda la ropa
Mira, yo cuando vine a Londres a visitar a una amiga, estoy hablando de hace cuatro o cindo años, vivíamos en Manor House, y de esto que ella vivía con un chico y una chica, de Italia...que tenian la habitación más grande...Pues, de esto que un día, cogió a mi amiga y le dijo: “Yo, no limpio, y mi compañera, tampoco. Nosotros no limpiamos, si ustedes quieren limpiar, limpien. Pero a nosotros nos da igual; ya vi que habéis limpiado el baño”. Nosotros no habíamos ni limpiado, solo quitamos las cosas un poco de encima...Y el ya lo veía limpio: era el típico que cenaba y ni siquiera fregaba sus cosas, solo lo haría cuando eso le volviera a hacer falta. Pero se podía quedar sucio tres o cuatro días que al final lo acababamos limpiando nosotros porque daba ASCO!
...Si yo veo una cosa así; la pongo en su puerta!

DATE: 21 NOVEMBER 2018
TIME: 15:21 PM
LOCATION: LIVERPOOL STREET, HOPE SQUARE
WEATHER: VERY COLD, GRAY

SITE A

SITE B.

SITE A

Background sound [1]: girl playing guitar near the escalators that go in and out of the station. She is singing Hotel California. People pass by without making eye contact or slowing down to look at her.

15:21 PM

Lady reads the metallic inscription on the sculpture that dominates the center of the square, she leaves a rose on it, and starts walking away. When on the steps, she looks back one more time, and then leaves.
Amounts of people walking fast across the square, in and out of the station. Many of them carry trolleys.

I identify three kinds of cigarrette smokers in the square:
the first kind, is the people who finish their cigarrete rushedly and throw it to the floor while walking, before going in.
Some others, use the cigarrete as a waiting distraction. They normally look at their phones while smoking, with some small pauses to look around them in an awkward way. It seems as if they were waiting for something different to happen, some indicator that made them activate, move or do something different other than standing there.
The third kind, is the people who have just came out of the station, after a train journey, and light their cigarrette with impatience and almost a relieved expression.

Background sound 2: I notice a sound that has been present since I got here, but didnt recognise until now: the construction site. Truck engines, metal pieces, drilling and hammering. It is very loud and irritating.

Backround sound 3: Despite the loudness of the building site, the girl with the guitar keeps playing, now she is singing an acoustic version of Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This).

My attention is caught by the laughs and surprise expressions of an italian family that is seating behind me. They are watching the amount of pigeons that occupy a corner of the square, where all the breadcrumbs from McDonalds end up. The birds fly around and move under the chairs an tables. It’s funny to see how they catch so much people’s attention, specially tourists.

A group of frour girls stand in the middle of the square now, each of them holding a cigarrette. They are all wearing black tights and black shiny shoes. Their fluffy coats in multiple colours together with their long straight hairs stand out. Their serious almost “pissed off” epression doesn’t hide their self-conciousness. One of them takes a selfie with the rest, there is something in their poses that seems unnatural and uncomfortable.

Background sound 4: Girl with the guitar stops playing to introduce herself to the absent/invisible audience. I struggle hearing her words. After that, she plays the “House of the Rising Sun”. The effort that takes me to hear her music reminds me of the loud noise coming from the construction site.
The combination of her voice, fighting to be heard in between all the machine noises, the amount of pigeons and cloud of smoke that predominates the space, makes me feel stressed. I decide to leave.

15:36 PM

DATE: 21 NOVEMBER 2018
TIME: 15:47 PM
LOCATION: FINSBURY SQUARE
WEATHER: VERY COLD, GRAY

SITE B

After walking around the streets for a while, I decide to seat on a bench and watch the pedestrians cross the road. It is very busy, full of people wearing suits and heels.

There is only one person in between the crowd that doesn’t move. A man holding a red plastic bag stands still across the road, in the middle of the pavement, facing the direction I am seated. I wonder what is he waiting for, and why there. I decide to write down every gesture he does, and investigate what does the “act of waiting” mean.

15:47 PM

15:48 PM

looks right
looks at his phone
someone asks him for directions, he answers
looks at his phone
looks right
looks left
looks at his phone
looks at the time
looks right
looks at his phone
looks right
looks at his phone
looks in front
looks right
looks left
puts his phone in his pocket
moves bag form one hand to the other
walks away looking to the floor

Lady approaches towards me, she is wearing a blue coat. A big sized bag hangs from her shoulder, very full. She stops near me and leaves the bag on the same bench I’m sitting on.
Rushed, she starts pulling things out of the bag and placing them on the bench aswell. With her arm inside it, she looks carefully inside the bag, moving her hand around it searching something. Because of her leaning position, her wallet drops from her coat pocket to the floor. She picks it up and puts it back inside the pocket. Some of the objects that have been taken out of the bag are

15:54 PM

scarf
plastic folder with papers
letters
tupperware
plastic water bottle

The air is freezing and she seems resigned, not finding what she wants, but she keeps trying. At last, she pulls out something from the bottom of the bag. It is her phone. She puts everything back in, sits on the bench, and writes a message. She struggles reading, so she adjustes her glasses and holds the phone a bit further from her eyes, lifting her face a bit. After typing, she puts the phone back inside the bag. Then, she takes a tissue from her trouser’s pocket and blows her nose. After a few seconds, she stands up, lifts the heavy bag and walks away.

15:59 PM

16:01 PM

It gets dark quickly, so I decide to walk back home. Two girls stop me to ask for directions. By chance, they ask me how can they get to the same McDonalds I had been to one hour before.
.

16:16 PM

16:17 PM

While making my way through the crowd, trying to find a good moment to cross the street, I see the same lady in the blue coat and the big bag, she looks as lost as I do, in between all the people walking fast and determined to the station.

16:18 PM

On the same street, I walk past a Metro Bank. I look through the glass wall into the interior. The decoration catches my eye because it looks more like a casino than a bank. While figuring out the intended style of the furniture inside, I suddently see a familiar figure. It is the man with the blazer full of badges and the white beard who I met the other day in Patisserie Valerie.

I get closer to the glass to double check that its him. It seems too much of a coincidence to me that in the middle of the rush hour wave of people I recognise someone I’ve met before. I move to a side of the window because I wouldn’t want him to notice me.

He is wearing exactly the same clothes: blazer, badges, gray tracksuit, black traines and a tesco bag. This time he also wears an orange hat.

I zoom out and pay attention to the context of the situation. He is standing, talking to a guy who works there. There is a table in between them, the guy is seated. There is a significant amount of envelopes and unfolded papers on the table, and the guy seems to be a bit confused. The white bearded man seems agitated. Once he finishes talking, walks across the hall and enters what I think is a toilet.

A minute later he comes back, heading to the exit. He stops, thinks, and walks back to the initial table. He grabs the scarf he forgot, puts it around his neck, and leaves. I move to the other side of the street so he doesn’t see me. He walks to the opposite direction anyway, so I lose him fading into the crowd.

DATE: 24 NOVEMBER 2018
TIME: 17:23 AM
LOCATION: LIVERPOOL STREET STATION, BISHOPGATE ST
WEATHER: VERY COLD, DARK

SITE A

On the right corner between Bishopgate street and the station exit, there is an Evening Standard newspaper vendor’s stand. I have seen that one other times before. The man’s loud voice that announces the free newspaper is already part of my preconceived soundtrack attached to that space.
Besides, only with a couple of meters of separation, there is a Jehovah’s Witnesses stand. It is three of them. They stand still next to the cart that holds a variety of pamphlets and booklets. In contrast with the newspaper man, they are silent, with a smiley face and their hands held behind the backs.
Up to this point, everything seems to fit inside an average situation.

17:24 PM

17:26 PM

It is rush hour, and the narrow pavement is full of people walking in waves towards various directions. I spend a few seconds looking the fast-paced sequence of marching legs, rhythmically walking forward.
By the same corner, there is a bus stop. Every time a bus arrives, a new crowd of people joins the mass, and after a few seconds of dispersion, the spot clears, awaiting for the next bus to arrive.

17:26 PM

A man walks through the crowd in the opposite direction of the majority of people. He is holding a bycicle, so he creates a space around him as he walks.
He stops and parks the bike in the spot between the two stands. He looks around him, calmly, in a similar way that I am doing a few meters behind.
Then, he puts his hand inside the bag he was carrying, and gets a megaphone out. It is an unfamiliar object to me, that I wouldn’t imagine it being used in that context. I am curious to see what he is going to use it for.
I get closer, and he starts talking through it, projecting his voice to the passing people. From his sarcastic tone, and pre-thought speech, I manage to hear some sentences:

Ladies and Gentelmen! take a look at the important buisness of distributing the Evening Standard (...)
Where would you be without the evening standard? A useless ideology, because all ideology is useless!
take this hailer off this fucking prick!

After a tense, uncomfortable interaction with the newspaper man, which I couldn’t understand a word from, the man with the megaphone turns around, now he addresses his speech to the Jehova’s Witnessess:

They were saying they have the solution to end suffering...
...But I would say, suffer will not end, until you die. Do you agree?
The witnesses don’t say anything, they don’t even look at him.
No?
I mean seriously guys, are you suggesting that....
...the truth answer to the meaning of life?

(reads from pamphlet)

“Will suffering end?”
...which is a clever quote, to try and get you to think wether it will end or not, because somehow they know the answer to that.
But the answer is, suffering will only end when you die: before you die, you will suffer, I’m afraid. That’s just part of life.
And that is why you can’t be lying to people that they will end suffering.
Suffer will not end, until you do die. And when you die, then it will end.
So, erm, nothing to worry about that...
...Belief systems! People, you gotta be careful here, they are going to try to sell you belief systems.
Here: the Evening Standard,
or in the other: bible publications.
Be aware! They are ALL FREE publications; The Evening Standard, the ones that these Jehova’s Witnessess give out...
Nothing is really free; It will cost you in the end; one way or another.

Newspaper guy approaches him

If there aren’t any beliefs, don’t try to give your own beilef for free.

I’m not trying to give out any belief system, othern than not having a belief system. Is that a belief system?

Yeah

Do you believe that not having a belief system is a belief system?

No

Oh no, I pass myself as someone who doesn’t want to have a belief system.
Is that a belief system?

Newspaper guy tries to speak, but his previously powerful voice gets easily covered by the man’s speaker:

I believe...the belief systems...

I believe the belief systems will do me no good at all. Is that a belief system?

Yeah, cause...you said...

Well it’s not really a system, it is just a belief, on its own, it’s an idea.
It’s just an idea, I dont really know if it’s true, but I’ve got this idea in my head, that the last thing I need is a belief system; and definetely, not from The Evening Standard, don’t you think?

Yeah, but you just said....

Do you think I should get a belief system from The Evening Standard?

I...I don’t really care!

(man laughing)

You don’t really care? ...As long as you give them out!

(laughs, with sarcasm)

I’m sorry...I beg a pardon

Erm, the first thing you said was: “I believe that I don’t need a belief system”....

I don’t think a bellief system will do me any good at all, I’ve already tried that one
...But these people here feeding the thing...and they know the answers to everything, which is not likely looking at them...
I mean statistically speaking, the chances of you three guys, really knowing the answers to whats going on, are extremely low.

(pointing at the witnesses)

And...to compel that is, they’ve written this question here: “will suffering end?”, to try and provoke you...
...and the truth is, that suffering will end; once you die! And before you die it won’t end...
...No matter how hard you try, unfortunately...Unfortunately suffering is a part of life!
The Jehova’s Witnesses are not gonna end that for you

(one of the witnesses asks him something)

Have I read the booklet? No I haven’t! Why would I read the booklet? I don’t trust that stuff...

He puts the speaker down and starts arguing with the newspaper guy, who seems to want a debate. I can’t hear what they say anymore, only some random words.

Yeah, I can make any claims about what’s gonna happen; if you do this, that and the other, over the other side...Try and prove it!

...like the gods, end of the universe

[Fig. 2]

[Fig. 1]

[Fig. 3]

3.

[Fig. 4]

4.

INVENTORY OF SEEMINGLY UNREMARKABLE ENCOUNTERS

WALK 1

WALK 2

WALK 3

REFERENCES

How should we take account of, question, describe what happens everyday and recurs everyday: the banal, the quotidian, the obvious, the common, the ordinary, the infraordinary, the background noise, the habitual?

from L’Infra-Ordinaire (1989), Georges Perec

An exploration of space and encountered situations. An ongoing process of collecting, using and reusing.

‘Site’ as in a place where something is happening, in process where things are being uncovered/discovered, memory, history, narrative, things that may be useful, stored for future use.

extract from Lynn Fulton’s description of the artwork ‘Cellar’

As found is the tendency to engage with what is there, to recognize the existing, to follow its traces with interest.

As Found means the autonomous discovery of what is supposedly unimportant and the gift of making something important for oneself from it. It facilitates a friendly-subversive, perhaps even aggressive question of the conventional system of values and a decisive rejection of second-hand experiences.

It leads to stimulating discoveries and of then makes something new out of almost nothing.

The ordinary becomes extraordinary.

extract from ‘As Found: the discovert of the ordinary, (2001),
edited by Claude Litchenstein and Thomas Schregenberger

pictures from exhibition ‘Parallel of Life and Art’, (1953), shown at the ICA in London

Lara Coromina