Yesterday I watched a grim group of trades union workers unfolding their banners and flags at Kings Cross Station before setting out on the TUC organized march and rally against spending cuts and for "A future that works." There were more and more people to join them walking or being pushed in wheelchairs down the streets of London on the 20th of October to Hyde Park and I heard that the TUC estimated the numbers at 130,000 people.
Today the streets are fairly quiet, but Keith is back on his familiar territory in Bloomsbury. In an area famous for writers and artists, Keith spends most of his days on the streets. He wears his blanket like a cloak as he goes from pitch to pitch and is well known for his good natured and original banter. This is part of one of his pictures. He draws from imagination or what he sees or often, now, from ideas in old postcards, which he transforms into something alive and dramatic. "I like the detail in postcards" he says. I watched him drawing one day, totally intent on what he was doing and immersed in the very detailed sketch.. " I only draw something if it talks to me" he said, when I asked him about it. Keith is an artist. He often carries his portfolio, a folder of black and white drawings in plastic wallets to keep the rain off and is more than happy to sell some of them to people. My favourite was a wonderfully detailed sketch of St. Katherine's docks full of intricately drawn boats and a bicycle with a lopsided front wheel.
No one should be homeless, however you define that, and no one with a talent like Keith's should be sitting on a blanket on a cold damp pavement where I can see him tonight, with a plastic cup in front of him and a portfolio of pictures tucked away out of the rain.
By the way, Keith gave me this picture. "No, take it," he said.
