Iain Sinclair was one of the inspirations for this blog, especially Lights Out.., Orbital and Rodinsky's Room. In the latest LRB he has a piece (inevitably) about the Olympics. It begins and ends with the fate of 'the Owl Man' of Hackney, David Mills. Mills lived in a ramshackled dwelling near London Fields and kept large numbers of birds of prey. The Owl Man has had forced out by the logic of re-development and is relocating to Wales.
Sinclair pieces either veer towards the mystical or the cynical. This one felt different: sorrowful, a panegyric. He concludes:
"When I think of the winners who have emerged from this unreal fortnight
of mass hallucination, I don’t focus on the justifiably proud cyclists,
the strong women in boats, or those youthful triathlon medallists, the
Brownlee brothers, who look like scrubbed kids in pyjamas, allowed to
stay up late with Christmas baubles around their necks. I think of two
men: Boris Johnson clowning so effectively towards office, like an idiot
emperor from Robert Graves – and David Mills, spirit of place, who knew
just when to step away."
I read that as calling time, not just on Hackney, but on Sinclair's own life's project to document the outer limits of the capital. It must be tinged with the realisation that the semi-bohemian life he has lived is also out of time. Just as he warned Rachel Lichtenstein that Rodinsky's Room was a trap, so East London has been one for him. Can he, like the Owl Man, step away?
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