Photo: Susan Le May
Grainy black and white photographs line the walls of the painfully hip Proud Gallery, tucked up a stairwell off the cobbled courtyards of Camden’s Stables Market. Fashionistas trickle in as guest lists are checked off and hairstyles are primped. This, ladies and gents, is so media it hurts. Iconic images of football heroes Bobby Moore, Nobby Stiles and Brazilian star Pele peer out from the walls of the gallery’s main room, with football games beaming from the screens of Xbox 360s tucked into the corners. Hope springs eternal from the cast of 1966 before England’s bitter World Cup 2006 disappointment.
The scrum to get drinks is six deep. The staff are sweating, looking overworked and under appreciated. Who would have thought that affording common courtesy to exhausted employees was so difficult? Elbows are flying as the race is on to grab uber-cool cocktails. No brown-nosing, aka “networking”, time to waste!
It’s a complete waste of time having Graham Coxon perform here. For the most part his efforts go unnoticed, acting more as a background noise than an event focus. He strums his guitar a bit, adding in his trademark nervy sniffs and adjusting his glasses. For the most part the media knobs chit-chat inanely over the ex-Blur guitarist’s acoustic noodling, but there’s a handful at the front who seem to give somewhat of a toss.
Coxon, long-time Camdenite, takes to muzak-style improvising, with just a pared-back version of ‘R U Lonely?’ from his first solo album sounding the most structured song of the mishmash set. He slips away after a relatively short time – much of the throng barely notices. The DJ sparks up his decks, blasting hip “indie” numbers off the rooftop, while ex-Libertine Carl Barat slinks up to the VIP area with his hangers-on, presumably not wishing to park his arse on the many Doherty-printed deckchairs outside.
Perhaps once the freeloaders have left the building, the Proud gallery will actually prove itself as a decent photography space, bar and venue.
