Dancing Ledge

IV: The Most Beautiful Room in London

88 IV The Most Beautiful Room in London U P P E R G R O U N D In August 1969I moved into the first of a series of warehouses on the river front. Upper Ground was at the end of Blackfriars Bridge. It was a large, airy L-shaped room. After seven years in cramped Georgian terrace houses and basements the change wasexhilarating. There wasspace to spread out- to entertain - for friendsto stay without falling over each other. Life could be a bit Spartan in winter, but the summers were an idyll; and the old brick buildings - all of which have now disappeared under improvements —a delight. The area was deserted since the docks had been moved further down river. Returning home late at night down these empty streets you felt the city belonged to you. In the mornings you would be woken up by the tug Elegance towing the barges down river. The seagulls would desert them for a moment and come to catch the bread from your hand. The riverside was my world for another nine years, before the invasion I pioneered with Peter turned the few remaining buildings into DES. RES. Back in 1969 the warehouse allowed me to slip quietly away from the 'scene' which for five years had been the centre of my life - and had now exhausted itself- and establish my own idiosyncratic mode of living. January 1970, Upper Ground: I was dreading coming back to London as by Christmas I had very little money and no way of heating the warehouse at Upper Ground, with the exception of the small office I'vemade of my bedroom. I can just afford to keep the 'pither' stove going, but it does nothing except keep the water from freezing in the lavatory. The old coke water-heater swallows up fuel, and you 89 have to lay in at least half a ton at a time. The holiday in Excelmans in Paris solved the problem for a couple of weeks as the fridge was well stocked and the building centrally heated. On the train waiting to return home, I noticed a girl carrying two heavy suitcases. Something about the way she was dressed and her long hair told me she was English, so I shouted out of the window that there was a spare seat in our carriage, and she clambered in. Throughout the eight-hour journey we chatted about the theatre and painting. Janet Deuter was teaching at Hornsey in the experimentallight and sound department. She was a friend of Ken and Shirley Russell so she told me of their new film project, The Devils. When we parted company she told me that she'd tell Ken about me, as she was convinced we would get along. I soon forgot about this. But a day later the phone rang and Ken asked me if he could come over —'tomorrow'. OK I said. Til be there at eight in the morning,' and at eight he arrived in the freezing empty warehouse at Upper Ground. He was bowled over by the building and while we huddled over mugs of tea I pulled out the odd drawing from Jazz Calendar and the Don, plus various other projects I had worked on. After looking at them briefly he asked me to design The Devils. I was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this offer, as I'd promised myself that after Don Giovanni I would never design again. I asked him if I could think it over, and he gave me twenty-four hours. 'In the meantime can Shirley come to tea to meet you?' In the evening I rushed out to see Women In Love. On the strength of that, and conversations with a few friends, I decided to plunge in ... D E S I G N I N G T H E D E V I L S February 1970, Ladbroke Grove: I sit upstairs on the living-room floor among the bric-a-brac which invades every corner of Ken's home. His latest addition is a portrait of Hedy Lamarr - which I spotted in Camden Passage. Shirley makes coffee while Ken and I thrash out ideas. My architectural history, the years with Pevsner, stand me in good stead. The town of Loudun is an enormous task. There's the exterior as well as all the interiors to consider, and also a large number of sets for Louis XIH's court in Paris. I...