Market Estate knocked down

It's hard to believe that the Market Estate has been finally demolished. Everyone knew it but in the end it happened. No surprises. It's weird that place doesn't exist anymore; I think it is a good metaphor of our own way through life. We come, and for the time being we occupy a space and are, for better or worse, somewhat meaningful to those around us. However when we are gone, there is nothing left behind. And we will be eventually forgotten. Forgotten forever is what makes it painful.
Well, that was a good excuse to get melancholic but the Market Estate's story is another good example of how important is to enjoy life for the short time it lasts. Even if it's ugly and brutalist.

I really wanted to upload these sketches I did for the Treasure Hunt murals. It is easy to see how they changed in the process of transferring them on the wall while looking at the photos of the now gone murals.Here are some photos and videos of the demolition by Joshua Surtees and David Kelly.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/gallery/2010/jun/11/market-estate-art-demolition?picture=363599548

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5pijo5RJrg

Participating in the Market Estate Project was a wonderful opportunity; again thanks!

After Life

Well, one post a month is better than none. Isn't it?

I wanted to upload one of the last illustrations I did for the After Life project that due to work overload issues wasn't shown on the Barbican's website.

After Life was a very fresh and original combination between opera, documentary and stage design; amazing work by Michel van der Aa. Also I had my first chance to see the Barbican's concert hall, I'm so grateful!


Here's the memory this illustration is based on; by Magda.

"I was trying to think of a memory and suddenly came across this one. I haven't thought about it for so long and that's why I'd like to take it with me - not to forget about it anymore.

I was 8 or 9, it was summer holidays. As usual me, my mum and her partner went on a road trip to some place in Europe, might've been Austria or Germany, somewhere in the lake district. At some point we found ourselves at some camping site overlooking the lake, rented a bungalow and went to the rocky beach. It reminded me of another summer holidays when my grandma took me to the lake and crayfishes were creeping all around. I started to talk to my mun how I want to tell my grandma all about this trip when we come back, especially as I knew she was unwell when we were leaving. And then my mum told me that I won't be able to tell my grandma anything because she passed away the same day we started our journey and she didn't want to tell me not to ruin my holidays. "

http://www.barbican.org.uk/afterlife/