Mudlarking exhibition at the London Museum, Docklands

Yesterday I went to the press preview of The London Museum's latest exhibition. I had my fingers crossed that it might be as excellent as their show about Fashion in the East End yet I was trepidacious that it could be sending out the wrong message as regards the rules and regs of mudlarking, something that I know about all too well having been the holder of a Port of London foreshore permit for over 17 years when I started making items from clay pipes from fragments that I found on the Thames' beaches (for walking in mud is not my thing!).

Entering the first room of the exhibition, there's some info about who the early mudlarkers were... these were poor people as good as risking their lives in the thick squelchy mud in amongst moored boats, looking for scraps to eat, lumps of coal, or items that had fallen overboard, some of which might very occasionally be worth the time and effort involved.

All well and good so far. But then the focus changes to the 'treasures' that can be found:

The next room, the largest space, is scattered with cabinets arranged around some heaps of stones and trash designed to look like areas of foreshore. 

The display cases are interspersed with artworks made by modern artists, the explanation labels for these being hard to locate. I have since discovered that at least one of these artists does not hold a permit to be able to make and sell artwork from foreshore finds, as I do.   

The collections of finds in this room seem like they were ideas thrown up in one of those Blue Sky meetings, like a box-ticking exercise. I'd expected to see a chronological display of glazed pottery sherds and glass as per these, perhaps some Elizabethan dress pins, rivets, nails, bottles and glass. Instead, they show us phallic items and some of the Doves Press typeface:

There is, however, a cabinet containing some parts of old leather shoes, which reminded me of the haul that I stupidly left behind on Bankside here.

What is seriously lacking is a better explanation, indeed repeat explanations, that mudlarking along the Thames is restricted to those with permits, that you can't just go 'hunting for treasure' without the right accreditation. Instead, against each showcased item, they print the names of the many mudlarkers who found them, highlighting how popular the hobby has already become. 

I chatted to a few people and two individuals told me that they were now inspired to visit the foreshore. This is exactly what I feared the exhibition would promote – made all the more irresponsible because the Port of London Authority has been having a terrible time this past year trying to manage their oversubscription of permits and the many thousands of people already on the waiting list. This exhibition will surely exacerbate the problem further. The museum could have easily put repeat signs around the walls of the exhibition space explaining the restrictions involved in an effort not to make it even worse. Instead, it's 'let's go find some treasure!' 

The next room is all about the mudlarkers of today and how they save and file their collected items in their studios, like mini-museums. I can't help but wonder what on earth are these people do with this stuff – do they have open days, do we get to visit?!  

Within that room, there are items in drawers and cupboards with sticky hinges and flaps that I don't think will last more that a week.

The final room is all about the moon, because the Thames is tidal and, apparently, mudlarks go out treasure hunting at night time, which is something I really don't thing is a safe practice to highlight. The space is mostly filled by yet another one of Luke Jerram's suspended globes. These things are everywhere, like Anthony Gormley statues. I'd hoped that this, being about nature, might include an explanation that another reason for not damaging the foreshore's surfaces is the disruption to wildlife, the tiny flora and fauna that exists in the thin top layer. Nope. 

A few of us agreed that this room and its glowing moon was some kind of afterthought as a space-filler, that they'd run out of ideas – it's a ridiculous end to the exhibition. Concerned that surely I must have missed something important, I went for another lap of all the exhibits to check and was disappointed that I had indeed seen it all. 

It's clear to some of us who visited that The London Museum is here jumping on a 'let's go mudlarking' bandwagon* and focusing on the treasure hunting with what seems like a complete disregard about the ecosystems on our foreshores and the water quality of the Thames – see more at Thames21. There is also scant information about the role of the PLA, the need for permits, and the correct codes of practice, set out within the documentation that accompanies the permits. 

Disappointing on many levels. 

Mudlarking – Secrets of the Thames, until 1st March 2026

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UPDATE, 10am Tuesday 15th April – low tide at Bankside. I counted approx 24 people on the foreshore twixt Blackfriars Bridge and Tate Modern, bending and stooping and putting things into carrier bags. These including families with colourful buckets and spades, the children gleefully digging and holding their finds aloft, in comparison with a couple of individuals who, by their apparel and demeanour, were clearly permit holders wearing thick waterproof boots and carrying trowels in the rubber-gloved hands. 

*as is Southwark Cathedral , The Guildhall and The Waterman's Hall who also host occasional mudlarking events.

The Cinema Museum, Lambeth – always worth another visit

I wrote about The Cinema Museum after a visit in 2013 and I have been back a few times. Every time I go there I discover something new or get talking to someone who inspires me. 

Last year, in January 2023, I was lucky to be able to sit and chat for a while with its founder Ronald Grant, who set up the archive – an engaging man with lots of stories to tell. I then spent ages perusing all the books and magazines on their extensive shelves (good job I had a carrier bag in my pocket – I came home laden with inspiration).  

The museum's corridors are slathered marvellous exhibits and, of course, with my Art Deco walking tours hat on, I reached for my camera phone. Realising I was about to get snap-happy, I decided to I limited myself to a few shots of the fabulous 'Art Deco' era display boards. These were created by artisan workmen (and women?) using lengths of wooden mouldings sawn and arranged into geometrical patterns, then gilded or hand-painted for better effect. The film posters and info could then be attached/inserted within the decorative frames. Gorgeous:

The next pic below illustrates some hand-painted letterform where the lower case Ts are truncated and 'in' is italicised at a quirky angle with a lovely flick on right leg. Note that the sign writer here is not copying a typeface (or using a font!) – he would, no doubt, have been inspired by type styles of the day, but has implemented his own style and adjustments. The end result is wonderfully human and possibly unique to the artist and/or this venue. Note also, the oddly stretched letters (compare those two As!), hints of kicks/serifs on some letters and the slightly off-kilter centred alignment.  

There are also mechanical elements on display such as sliding sections to indicate which seats were available, see above right. Such a simple process. These days we'd be standing there checking an app.

I visited the museum again in June 2024. After Martin's presentation about the fascinating story of the archive and the museum, we were treated a wonderful showreel of old movie clips, silent movies and cartoons, ranging from slapstick to pathos, from romance to daredevil stunts. It included some early Tom and Jerry cartoons and it was amazing to revisit the extreme hurt that Fred Quimby's cat and mouse inflicted on each other, something that I am sure is not allowed today, even within animations. T&J were teatime viewing when I was a child – dastardly deeds and vicious feuds between the protagonists, such as burned body parts, stepping on garden rakes, tails caught in machinery, electric shocks, etc, and back then I thought this was simply amusing, or dull. This time I laughed and shrieked with a mix shock and awe. I'm sure if we were to play these cartoons to the under-10s of today they'd be horrified, and their mothers would be writing complaints on social media. 

The next pics are the ones I took this year. The first pic shows a collection of four panels that were used to insert stills of the movies being shown. On close inspection, I noticed that the board at the top left had a maker's label on it showing it was made by Classic Displays of 3 Islington High Street (recently converted to The Peacock pub). This link shows that in 1947 the company specialised in decorative and modern window treatments and, in particular, their Tessor Pelmet (an example here). Their ad on p45 of the 1945 Kinematic Yearbook offers "The Publicity Service Display that is Effective, Economical, Descriptive and Artistic"

And here are some pics of lovely lettering and brushwork within some of the old cinema display boards:

Some of the panels display photos of the stars of the day. Someone in the retouching department appears to have been rather heavy-handed with Gary Cooper. Check out his overly-enhanced eyebrows and lashes, his sculpted features and what looks like new set of ill-fitting overly-white veneers! All of these bizarre 'enhancements' are popular today. Perhaps the retoucher was extremely forward-thinking?! 

I urge you to visit this museum – Some Saturdays are drop-ins, and your ticket includes tea and biscuits (a bar is also available) a talk and a a short collection of movies – more info here where you'll find out about the crowd funding drive to keep this marvellous asset alive. 

Berthe Morisot: Shaping Impressionism at Dulwich Picture Gallery

Dulwich Picture Gallery has done it again, as I don't think I have ever been to one of their shows and thought 'so what?' 

The latest show is a fabulously curated collection of Berthe Morisot's work. A female painter in a world of men, where painting in certain environments was forbidden, she made good use of her own home as studio interspersed with early morning trips to the park. A self portrait of Berthe in her mid-twenties is at middle top here:

The clever thing about this show is how it's interspersed with paintings that are said to have inspired her. Hence, you'll see Tissot, Romney, Gainsborough and quite a few Fragonards here. 

Delightful. 

It's also worth noting that there are few works from The Wallace Colllection, an institution that I understand has never before loaned out any of its collection.

Enjoy.

Until 10 September – More information here.