Intrivia.

Bond Street and its tributaries are a fierce arena for the combative art of aggressive spending. Liquid and very disposable incomes are swiped into the coffers of glittering stalls. A steady trickle of trinkets, finery and the most desirable of objects swap ownership, but rarely exchange hands as these are not items to be handled, at least not very often. Richard Green, the established purveyor of 20th Century art to individuals with a good head for investment and the assets

Wren’s church of 1697 has become a defining statement of the renaissance in London; a barroque pin-point of taste and order within the sprawl. The old Norman Cathedral had fulfilled a dual role; as well as a place of worship it was also a place of secular gathering prior in the pre-fire City. An abundance of market stalls huddled around its buttresses where pamphlets were distributed and political preachers lectured the masses. An invitation to Occupy London brings me here to

I am alone with the Ambassadors. I have been trying to catch the eye of Jean de Dintevilles but it rests firmly on the Adoration of the Kings. Likewise, the Bishop of Lavour looks straight through me towards the Holy Trinity. Neither man can be adverse to the eyes of strangers but their demeanour is of non-engagement. Are they upset or just focussed on other matters? More eyes now, this time globes in three dimensions darting across more globes in two. Searching for narrative