"What Do You Think Of It, So Far?" 1 *

All Images: Southwest Leicester, May 2016

Leicester may be many things: centre of the footballing universe (briefly) [1.]; resting place of misplaced monarchs; the most ethnically diverse city in Britain; an unspectacular Midlands town, with a new lease of confidence; but one thing it definitely is not, is particularly tidy.

On my regular cycle rides along banks of The Soar, or the Great Central Route, I'm always struck by how each of the regular benches that punctuate them, resembles a cross between an impromptu picnic site and a mini landfill.  Archaeologists can learn much from what earlier societies have discarded, of course, and I suspect that those of the future will have a particularly deep seam of cans, bottles, disposable barbecue trays and partially degraded supermarket carrier bags, through which to sift for clues about our own mode of existence.

Anyway, as these images show, at least some folks make a rudimentary attempt to clear up after their al fresco banqueting, - if only in a half-hearted manner.  I suppose, were one of a mind to do so, there's also a point to be made here about the inability of our public services to keep up with the competing imperatives of instant gratification, consumerism, and an ever-expanding population.  I'd be lying though, if I pretended to not be visually engaged by this tawdry little scene, with its combination of jollity and profound squalor.  And I can't deny that all that synthetic colour is an energising intrusion into the surrounding natural verdancy.  Litter porn, - anyone? [2.]. 

This particular bin is one that always catches my eye on my regular forays into Leicester's southern fringes, not least for the thoroughness with which has been unofficially decorated.  In terms of last year's 'Mental Mapping' and 'Cement Cycle' activities, it is a distinctly Lynchian landmark [3.].

In fact, on my return leg, it marks a junction at which I can choose between two equally enjoyable routes home.  It also comes at a point where, depending on how far I've ventured, my perennially creaky knees may be reminding me of their fragility, and is a welcome reminder that there's not too far to go now.

For all of these reasons, its resonance within my own metal map of the city cannot be ignored.




* As British readers of a certain vintage will remember, the punchline to Morecambe & Wise's famous catchphrase is, of course, "Rubbish!".


[1.]:  Coincidentally, this site lies close to where, heading into the city, one first gains a view of Leicester City's King Power Stadium, on the opposite bank.  On certain Saturday afternoon rides this season, the celebratory KP atmosphere was clearly audible.

[2.]:  For reasons of which I'm not especially proud, these days I feel like being an artist is to take a kind of amoral observer's stance, rather than a desire to actually change the world for the better.  Just trying to find insight, by looking in a slanted way at what is actually there. feels like a sufficiently positive act in itself.  Does that offer any salvation for the world? - of course not.  Is that even an artist's job? - you tell me.

[3.]:  Kevin Lynch, ‘The Image Of The City’, Cambridge Massachusetts, The M.I.T. Press, 1960.