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London's Ubiquitous Cocks

My trip to London was very trippy, starting with prison and ending in a former tranny brothel in a sweets factory.

My recent excursion to London for the launch of the latest monograph on my work, , published by my Italian distributor, Atlantide Entertainment, led me outside of Berlin for a bit. What follows is a photo diary of the trip, which ended up being very trippy. I was staying in Islington, only one stop away from King’s Cross, in the direction of Cockfosters, but it still somehow seemed kind of remote. Maybe that’s why there were two prisons in the neighborhood.

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My friend Kathleen Maitland-Carter, visiting from Canada, acting suspiciously outside the prison.

Me acting suspiciously outside the prison.

Cock, or at least the word “cock,” is ubiquitous in London.

My friend, writer Travis Jeppesen, who is in London working on his PhD, demonstrates the new pissoir technology that London has borrowed from Paris, presumably in advance of the copious rivers of urine expected during the London Olympics.

On my first night out in London, my friend Ben Reardon, fashion editor at British GQ, took me out to the usual Shoreditch watering holes, including the Nelsons Head Pub, the George and Dragon, and the Joiner’s Arm. Our companion for the evening was the ravishing Princess Julia, former Blitz Kid and current international DJ of note.

On the way to the Joiner’s, which doesn’t sell cocaine over the counter anymore like it did when I used to go there in the 90s, and where you’re now apt to find the director of the Tate Modern dancing on a tabletop, I stopped to snap a shot of this ad hoc flower memorial to the poor woman and former EastEnders actress whose body had recently been cut up into pieces by her brother and found in a canal near her Council-looking flat.

My book launch party, sponsored by Beers.Lambert Gallery, was held at the legendary Green Carnation in Soho, a bar dedicated to Oscar Wilde, whose witticisms are emblazoned in gold on the damask wallpaper. The amazing London artist Franko B., whom I first met at the London Filmmakers Co-op in Camden Town in the early 90s, opened the festivities with his crazy new noise band, Lullaby for the Abandoned.

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Guests at the book launch included the aforementioned peeing Travis and Scottish impresario Oskar Oprey, editor of the magazine Dragmag.

Supercute Londoners check out Bruce(x)ploitation.

The lead singer of Years & Years, the soulful new London band that also played at the launch, who is so cute that he plays the harmonium.

The crowd loved the Years & Years set.

On my last Saturday night in London I attended the lovely and talented Pam Hogg’s party at the new Le Baron. Also a former Blitz Kid, Pam is a legendary fashion designer, singer, and DJ.

Later the same evening I attended Club Kaos, brainchild of my friend Lee Adams. It’s the kind of club where they lock you in at about 3 AM and practically don’t let you out until 10 AM, a schedule I maintained despite having to catch a plane later that afternoon. Who should I run into there but my favorite male model, Jose Santore, formerly known as baby Tony Ward.

My favorite t-shirt at Kaos.

My host, brilliant performance artist and body modification specialist Ron Athey, and I took a ciggie break outside. I can’t really reveal the shenanigans that went on inside, as everyone is understandably paranoid about the impending totalitarian clampdown on the city during the summer Olympics. Suffice to say that Kaos is held at Stunners, which started out as a tranny brothel in the 90s. The venue, Cable St. Studios, was originally a Victorian sweet factory, and squatted by artists in the 60s. The club more than lives up to its dodgy provenance.

Previously - Back in Berlin