snapshots: see no evil 2012

18th August 2012

Bristol, England

"See No Evil is an international art project based on Nelson Street in the Bristol City centre. It brings together a selection of the world's best street artists to create a huge outdoor gallery."

The once grim, dull and sterile office blocks that populate the area are brought to life with a splash of colour and several stages of music for a few days each summer. The beautiful thing about it though is that even when the party is over, the huge murals remain on their concrete canvasses all year long. 

Welcome to Nelson Street.

The Ghostly Musketeers.

For 2012, the organisers pulled out all the stops showcasing a much larger festival-style gathering.  Tiny alleyways connect the labyrinthine area together with hidden art lavishly splashed around ever corner.

The event was a testament to the liberal attitude of the Bristol council who allowed a large area of the city centre to be closed down for one big party, relaxing drinking laws and supplying an unobtrusive police presence.

Several of the buildings in the area opened up their doors and put on workshops for people to have a go producing some of their own art.

Ship Shape & Bristol Fashion.

One trippy little dude.

The more attractive side of Nelson Street. No graffiti required.

A record 50,000 people came to Bristol over the weekend to enjoy the elaborate art displays, homegrown Bristol music and a few ciders in the sun of course.

Swagger straight from 1975.

Break-dancing contest in full swing. 

See No Evil Block Party had acts playing from midday to 9pm.

Organic street art.

For me the rooftop party at Froomsgate House was the place to be. Trapping the sun nicely all day, the best house djs in Bristol played to a rammed crowd at the Crack Magazine Hear No Evil stage.

Such as Kowton...For one of his final tunes he played Andres - New For You.  Big tune for a big day in Bristol.

35 individual pieces of art were on display across a wide range of buildings.

A great day turned into a great night down at Timbuk2 for young biggles.....

See No...

A multitude of walkways connected the party together with sneaky little stages squeezed into the various nooks and crannies.

Fuel.

The Nelson Walk.

Growing bigger every year, See No Evil looks like it will join St. Pauls as the place to be every summer. 

snapshots: harbourside festival 2012

22nd July 2012

Harbourside, Bristol

Pero's Bridge welcoming the crowds to Bristol's 41st annual Harbourside Festival. 

Getting down mid-afternoon, I took a seat on the cascade steps which  plunge down into St. Augustine's Reach to enjoy Bashmema finish off her set by playing out Nina Simone's 'My Baby Just Cares For Me' to a sun-worshipping audience.

Down by the water; under the stars.

Millennium Square in full swing. The crowds reflected into the clear blue sky.

Four points of view.

@Bristol.

The Millennium Square mime troupe.

After venturing down the slope to the Loyd's Amphitheatre, I came across a sign which directed me to the 'Happy City stage' where a motley crue by the name of One Shot got Bristol dancing to some Funky Dub Reggae. On the same tip as Gentleman's Dub Club minus the animated frontman.

The boats of Bristol harbour.

"Give I a cider!" - 6pm.

In his element.

The Rozzers patrolling Queen Square.

(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Harbour.

In flight.

Banging a djembe in Queen Square.

Walking home. A Cotham sun set.

snapshots: the el alto flea market

25th May 2012

La Paz, Bolivia

Back into Bolivia.

The helpful Wild Rover map shows Sorata, Lake Titicaca and La Paz.

I spent another five days in the city of La Paz, indulging in a few more reckless nights after reuniting with Laura and James who had by all accounts been having  a very relaxed time in the small hillside town of Sorata. The days in the black hole of the Wild Rover hostel passed once again as a blur but on the Thursday, after hearing about a massive flea market which takes place in the suburb-turned-city of El Alto high up on the ridge of La Paz, I hopped in a small mico (taxi van) and made my way up the bowl to have a look.

El Alto became a certified city in it's own right in 1986 and is one of the world's highest major settlements peaking at the breathtaking - quite literally -  height of 4200 metres. The haphazard city of a million souls has a rough edge to it and the numerous protests and strikes that occur down in the bowl usually originate here. The reason being is that El Alto controls the only road that enters La Paz meaning that the inhabitants here can shut down the capital at the drop of a hat; a powerful geographical tool they employ frequently and violently.

The dusty, unpaved streets are lined with stalls every Thursday and Sunday.

Tracing the line of the La Paz ridge, the dilapidated city is being built slowly. Very slowly. Sometimes so slowly that they forget to finish building. Three alleyways snaked through the market lined with hundreds of stalls selling everything from ripped off DVD's to shoelaces.

The market is divided into specific sections whether you're looking for books, clothes, DVD's or old hub caps...

Between the rows of stalls large groups of people were huddled around the Bolivian Del Boys who gave their animated speeches to intrigued audiences. This guy was a particularly smooth operator in his attempts to flog some dodgy perfume.

Life in El Alto.

The flea market floods the streets as all the houses set up their own stalls. Need a car door? Get yourself to this house!

One man's trash is another man's treasure has never been more appropriate a saying for the goods on offer at El Alto. 

In the distance the snow-capped peak of Mount Illimani rises imperiously over the area and the views of the 'Golden Eagle' are even more impressive from the ridge of El Alto.

Heavy Load.

Seeking shade.

The El Alto donkeys.

A railway line slices the market in two where it joins the Cemetery District of La Paz.

Che Guevara saw me off back down into the pit of La Paz.