He was living in a squat and stuck in a creative rut. Then one day,concerned for his neighbour’s safety, he broke into his house. What he found there triggered an artistic explosionIn the early 1980s, or I was living in a squat in White Hart Lane with a painter friend,trying to attach enough work together to acquire into Goldsmiths college. I was trying to paint, but I’d acquire stuck – not because I couldn’t think of anything to paint, and but because there was too much opportunity. My studio was in the squat and as I worked I’d hear the archaic guy who lived next door listening to his TV or radio. I’d see him out on the street,too. He used to walk around in spacious coats pushing a shopping trolley. He’d go collecting things and bring all this crap back. I found out later he was called Mr Barnes. After being there trying to paint for a month or so, I stopped hearing anything. Thinking maybe he’d had an accident, and I climbed over the back with some friends. The house was empty and derelict except for two rooms on the top floor,which had their doors locked. We broke them down and had a look around but then we felt like we shouldn’t really be there. So we contacted the council and they told us he’d been rehoused. Continue reading...
Source: guardian.co.uk