The power station is a ghost like ruin that stands on the banks of the Thames. Its right next to the train tracks rolling out of London to the rest of the south of England. I pass it every time I go back to where I grew up and every time I arrive back in London. It has become symbolic with arriving and departing, a constant in my life. I used to joke and refer to it as my lover - seeing me off and welcoming me home.
Address
Battersea Power Station, 8 Battersea Park Rd, London, United Kingdom
Current city: London
Polly Brown is a London based artist, and photographer. Having graduated from Central St Martins in 2009, after studying Fine Art & Conceptual Theory, Polly has worked throughout the art, fashion and music industry, creating concept lead visual projects. Polly’s work often looks at the small unnoticed aspects of life and the world around us. Unpicking and re focusing on the small elements that make up a greater whole. Projects range from editorial, photo essays to short films. Clients have included ICA, Dazed and Confused, Kris Van Assche and DIESEL to name a few. Polly has an ongoing project called PLANTS which sees her photograph iconic brands office foliage. Originally commissioned by Ronnie’s Woods Whisper Gallery the project includes some of the worlds largest corporations and is ever expanding.
 

More Places in London 471

P Franco, wine shop, bar and restaurant. Amazing wine, delicious small plates (guest chefs) in a very lively atmosphere. The wait for a spot to sit down is worth it. 
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The best seafood restaurant on the South Coast.
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I couldn't decide which coffee shop to feature so here's the first, Store Street Espresso. It's right round the corner from work and a great place to chill out at lunch time and get that kick for the afternoon. Compared with the other independent coffee shops in the area (Wild & Wood/Lantana/Tapped & Packed) the interior's minimal and light which is great. Anyway coffee's really good and so is the food.
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Not long in the custody of the National Trust, designed by Philip Webb and commissioned by William Morris, in 1859. Tucked away in Beckenham. William and Jane Morris only lived here for five years; not a happy time of their marriage. But there is humility, authority and even bite, in the domestic scale. The rigorous, holistic design-hand at work belies any sense of souvenir shop Morris-lite. The vegetable garden in late Summer is the place to be.
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At the end of the Victoria line at the Walthomstow station, and then a 15 minute walk through some suburban streets with some lefts and at other times rights is an industrial estate. Through the gate and buried at the very end of the units where you are convinced you are lost and doubting it's existence at all is God's Own Junkyard. It's a worthy pilgrimage and actually sort of where you expect God would put a junkyard. The warehouse is a monument to neon and the life works of the late Mr Neon, Chris Bracey. It's littered to the rooftop with cables, plug sockets and choice words with neon epigrams, the whole collection is stacked, I suppose how a junkyard of the sort would be. Full of sex, religion, americana, sci-fi and nostalgia that all blend together surprisingly well, It's a visual feast that you can take in with a coffee and an open mouth. It is a gem of a place. It is really great.
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