A Mrs Lovett Pie

Get a tube to the outer edges of the Jubilee Line and exit at North Greenwich which is not a station I come to very often.  In fact, the only other time I’ve ever actually been here before was about sixteen years ago, which is a bit of a clue as to its more precise geographical situation, right next to The O2 arena or, as it was once known, the Millennium Dome.  And, yes, I was one of the people who took the trouble to go and have a look at the so-called Millennium Experience exhibition which ran throughout the year 2000 and was meant to be a sort of phantasmagorical, super-sensory wow of a show designed to herald in the next exciting thousand year chunk of AD history with a show of stunningly futuristic optimism.  Well, something like that.  I certainly remember it being well overhyped which inevitably led to many people finding the whole thing a bit of a disappointment, at least that seemed to be the general media consensus at the time.

And what did I think after my visit?  Well, to be honest, I can’t actually recall what any of the displays were like which, I suppose, sort of confirms that it wasn’t the mind-blowing, once-in-a-lifetime, memorable millennial experience that it was meant to be.  As for the actual Dome building, however, despite there being a lot of moaning about the construction costs and the impracticality of its design, I think most people, me included, thought that it looked pretty cool, especially when James Bond jumped onto it from a hot air balloon and rolled down the side of it.

Nowadays, as far as I know, The O2 is a reasonably popular venue for concerts and exhibitions although, as indicated already, I’ve never previously been tempted to return to check out any of its vocal or visual attractions.  And even today, I’m not actually going into the place so much as walking round it, prompted by an article I happened to come across last week when scanning through the Metro daily freesheet.  I can’t remember the exact details of the story as I managed to lose the clipping that I carefully ripped out from the paper but it made some mention of an East London sculpture trail and that sounded sort of interesting.  Anyway, after a bit of googling I managed to confirm that there is indeed such a feature on the cultural landscape and so I thought I’d make an effort to check it out.

So it is that I’m stood outside North Greenwich tube station, with The O2 in front of me, squinting in the strong sunshine at my mobile and trying to read the starting instructions from the-line.org.  Having absolutely no natural sense of direction I’m fully expecting to start walking off in completely the wrong direction and then hours later, having reached Camden or Chiswick without having seen a single artwork, admitting defeat, abandoning the expedition and attempting to find a cab that will take me back to civilisation. But, after a bit of a nervous start I do as I’m told and , ‘…follow the blue hoardings to the left and look out for The Line’s red directional signage…’

And, somewhat to my surprise and relief, a short while later I realise that the upturned, half-size electricity pylon just in front of me, that looks like it might have been thrust into the ground by a tornado is, in fact, not the result of some catastrophic natural disaster but a work of art and that I’ve successfully manage to tick off the first item on my Sunday sculpture trail.

If Alex Chinneck’s work is dramatically impressive by nature of its scale and architectural absurdity then, a bit further along, Thomson & Craighead’s intervention is a slightly soggy squib at the other extreme of the sculptural spectrum.  The artistic duo have simply stuck a road sign on the path with an arrow pointing west announcing ‘Here 24,859’.  The number presumably is the circumference of the Earth in miles and the artwork a sort of a joke about the planet being round and not flat, such that the arrow points all the way round the world and back to where it started.  Maybe a controversial idea back in medieval times but perhaps not warranting more than a second glance today, especially when it’s competing with river views that include the spectacular Canary Wharf buildings on one side and The O2 dome on the other, currently enhanced by a bunch of tourists rigged up in safety gear climbing over the top of it.

Following on from the thin Conceptualist conceit of the signpost, it’s a short walk to get back to the heavy stuff with Richard Wilson’s Slice of Reality, a ten foot wide chunk of old ship that he’s left marooned in the river, and Gary Hume’s Liberty Grip, a slightly more conventional lump of abstracted bronze that’s apparently been modelled on the conjoined limbs of some department store mannequins.

From here I can see in the distance Anthony Gormley’s Quantum Cloud, the final sculpture on this first part of the trail which, as has become apparent, is basically just a quick circumnavigation round the outside of The O2.

Gormley’s work is constructed of a stack of interlinking metal rods which if viewed from the right position suddenly coalesce into the form of a man.  At least, that I think is the idea although no matter where I stand I don’t seem to be able to find the right alignment.  Nevertheless, it’s still quite an impressive sight from the ground and also from the air which I discover since the next part of the route entails a journey – a flight as they call it – over the river on the Emirates Air Line cable car.

The ride’s a bit bumpy and just a little disconcerting when the car stops for a while mid-journey and sways about in the breeze but the view are, of course, quite impressive.  As for the next artwork, someone seems to have removed the official identifying display sign and I had to double check on google to make sure that the simple slab of rusty metal I was looking at and photographing was indeed an art offering from Martin Creed and not just some hefty bit of discarded scrap metal.

Frankly, I’m still not entirely sure that google’s got it right but never mind, next up is Eduardo Paolozzi’s Vulcan, a massive bronze man holding a heavy hammer which definitely announces itself as art.  While it’s a bit more interesting than his abstract public sculptures near to Pimlico and Euston stations, maybe it’s still a bit clunky in comparison with his tribute to Newton that sits outside the British Library.  It’s also not very well positioned and to get a decent, full-frontal look at the figure would involve paddling into the Royal Docks, a detour from the official sculpture trail route map that I decide against making.

Finally the last work in the section, James Balmforth’s Inhibition Point is a tall steel pillar which has had a bite taken out of it.  It’s a close run thing as to whether it’s this or Creed’s contribution that takes the prize for the heaviest piece of inconsequentiality on today’s outing.

At which point I get a bit disorientated and take a few wrong turnings before I finally manage to find my way to the Custom House station which is carefully hidden behind the ExCel exhibition and convention centre.  A couple of stops along the Docklands Light Railway takes me to Star Lane and then it’s a somewhat circuitous route to cover the last segment of the trail that involves walking round the back of an industrial estate and alongside various canal paths and minor roads.  Some stretches are a bit grim and desolate while others are green, peaceful and pretty and it’s always interesting visiting these odd hidden sections of the capital of which otherwise I’d be totally oblivious.

The first sculpture in this section is what look initially to be the winning entry in a bake off competition – a giant slab of pink cake full of currants and nuts and topped off with a quirky blue frosting.  But closer inspection reveals it to be a rather less tempting morsel as it’s one of Damian Hirst’s pieces of Neo-Pop nonsense.  The massively enlarged version of a science class teaching aid shows a section through a piece of human skin highlighting different cells, glands and hairs and the kind of ingredients more appropriate to a Mrs Lovett pie than a Mary Berry pudding.  Next up is Abigail Fallis’ double helix tower of shopping trolleys which is definitely a rather clever construction and then, bringing everything to a conclusion, comes Thomas J Price nine foot tall buppie dude who’s stood checking out messages on his iphone.

By the time I’ve walked on to Stratford tube station the whole journey has taken me about three hours and having been lucky with the weather, which was sunny but not oppressively hot, I can honestly say I enjoyed my afternoon’s stroll through these unfamiliar backstreets and off-road diversions.  Some of the sculptures are a bit naff but I thought the Wilson, Gormley and Fallis were actually pretty good and for anyone who wants a bit of easy physical exercise and some slight intellectual diversions I think I’d happily recommend looking up the website and heading off down the trail.