This spring, I wandered through my east London neighbourhood for some afternoon distraction. It was one of those days when work had started crushing against the brain and I needed some quick stimulus away from the desk. I saw a bunch of downcast sixth formers sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Rough Trade record store, heads bowed in solemnity. When I asked one, sporting very large trousers and lilac hair, what was going on, they mentioned a playback of the forthcoming Boygenius album. That figured.
Cutting off Brick Lane, I noticed a crowd gathered behind an ornate green gate next to The Pride of Spitalfields, a favourite pub. Peering into the cobbled courtyard, I spotted trays of canapés, glasses of champagne, hushed dignitaries with thick framed glasses whispering gravely to women in statement print frocks and wooden jewellery. An art event. My social arithmetic calculated this was the opening of The Gilbert and George Centre, a free-for-all gallery to house the couple’s art they’ve charitably gifted locals.
