Comforting (London edition)

Also home

In work mode I’m always exploring, trialing the new, pushing the boundaries. New ways, new adventures.

Off-work I’m often a creature of habit, a sucker for comfort, the familiar.

Lately I’ve been returning to Shoreditch, East London. (I use Shoreditch as shorthand for the general Shoreditch, Hoxton, Old Street, Brick Lane, Columbia Road area which technically speaking isn’t all within the boundaries of Shoreditch.) I moved here in late 1998 (Björk! Dazed & Confused magazine! Hoxton Bar! Innit! 333! Parties in Dalston! No grocery stores within a 1000 miles!). I’d already spent time here since I was a wee kid and it did feel like moving home, even though my childhood on-and-off UK home was in rural Norfolk, essentially as non-East London as you can get.

I lived on Shoreditch High Street and later French Place, flat-sharing with my friend Malin and later also Emilie. Even though I worked over by Victoria/Westminster this is where “my” London was. I loved everything my corner of East London threw at me: The people, the best bars and clubs in town, the fell-off-the-back-of-a-truck auctions in a parking lot on Sclater Street on Saturday mornings, the 24/7 bagel bake. Even the grime and decay had an allure of its own. Over time the love turned in to such a deep connection that now, 28 years later and after also living in Notting Hill (another bit of London I love) and other parts of the world, I’m feeling that Original Love again.

It’s work that brings me back here, to this gentrified and in part unrecognisable Shoreditch. Yet the connection between the 2026 me and 2026 Shoreditch hasn’t changed much from our respective 1998 versions. Once again it feels both exciting and just like home. Different of course, yet so familiar. The air, the vibe, the spirit of the place, the history, perfectly in sync with all that is new; places, spaces, people.

I think this is how my need for comfort and habit works.

It’s not about things never changing or evolving. It’s about me and a place changing at equal speed. So that when we reconnect, we understand where each other has been.

It’s true love, innit.

Tracey Emin

As suspected, wild horses couldn't keep me away from Tracey Emin: A Second Life at Tate Modern. Seeing Emin's work in a large 3rd floor multi-room gallery might seem like the wrong setting. Especially for the older works. Yet each piece carves out its own time and space with you, there is only ever one piece at a time. And they hit hard. Art critics like to use the word "unapologetically". I'll settle for "with skill and brutality".

The first time I saw Emin (the person not her art) was in 1999. She was, and i suspect is, magnetic. Our interaction was in a bar and brief, I mistakenly took her beer instead of mine at the communal table everyone was sitting at. She said it was ok because someone else had paid for it. By then I'd seen her work in the homes of friends and strangers in our East London neighbourhood. And of course also The Bed (I think at Tate Modern). I figured I'd take the beer glass home and put it by my own bed. So thunk a slightly drunk Jaan.

That night my head was full of questions and admiration in equal measure. Her being so friggin' spellbinding isn't what kept me from talking to her about her art. I think I simply didn't want to know, I wanted the ?-marks to be there. And now in 2026 I think Emin's newer pieces, and her story since then, has answered a lot of them. And created new ones 'cause 'course great art does that.

I still don't have a need for answers, I'll just keep being full of questions and admiration in equal measure.

Other things

⫘ My new favorite coffee bar in London, FWD on ⚲ Whitecross Street.

Over to you!
Where are you?
What's on your mind?
What's playing in your headphones?
Where are you going?
Hit reply.
/Jaan ⎚-⎚

You have wonderful taste in newsletters! Who else would enjoy reading 'On my mind'? Point them to rumicat.com/orvet ! Thank you, coffee is on me!

Sent with Rumicat - Meow!