BENEATH BLACKFRIAR'S BRIDGE BY ERIN NATALIA

Article published by www.kevinstaniec.com

BENEATH BLACKFRIAR’S BRIDGE
ERIN NATALIA text
IAN GORDON AND PINO MANDORINO image


On any other day I would have been told to “fuck off”, so I consider myself lucky. I had admired Pino Mandorino and his painting of elliptical figures in various intimate poses since I first walked under Southwark’s Blackfriar’s Bridge. Sometimes lying in wait, rolling his own tobacco, sometimes painting, he can almost always be found underneath the old bridge who searches frame the River Thames and, beyond, the financial district of the City of London. Around the corner from the Tate Modern, one couldn’t help but wonder why he was here instead of exhibiting his work in one of London’s many world-renowned galleries.
The Tate Modern is the reason for what he feels is a most profitable location. During the financial crisis five years ago, not as many people were willing to invest money in art. People were laid off, and those who did pass through Southwark weren’t interested. Then the Tate Modern art gallery opened. Tourists and passers-by already had their minds focused on artistry, and as tourism fed more money into London’s economy, money found its way to Pino Mandorino. Mandorino says that, as a Pisces, he needs to be on the riverfront in a place that is calm and quiet. Being a Pisces myself, I didn’t have the heart to bring attention to the buses and trains that could clearly be heard from overhead. Still, Mandorino, happily pleading laziness, maintains that riding his bike each morning from his flat down the street to the bridge is a lot less time-consuming and expensive than looking for an appealing gallery. And this isn’t the only way Mandorino has felt guided by finance. As he spent more time beneath the bridge, among musicians, poets, and street vendors, he realized a pattern. Sales increased when he drew ten similar subjects depicting a man and a woman in a variety of embraces. He admits having tried his hand at different subjects (thel ikes of which were not disclosed despite my questioning), but only being able to sell the couples with ease. Yet even if the couples didn’t sell, I secretly believe Mandorino would paint them anyway. What’s more, Mandorino claims to be able to guess where a customer is from by the variations of a painting he or she has bought. Americans are frequent customers, or at least they were until exchange rates skyrocketed. Californians prefer the brighter canvases, while New Yorkers are partial to poses in which the woman is central and held from behind by the man. As I bought my burnt sepia canvas, exuding warmoranges and pinks, I felt as thoughI had betrayed my West Coastheritage. Despite his own affirmations in location influencing painting preference, Mandorino admits that he can’t quite pinpoint the nuances of Londoners, citing its myriad of cultures and languages, classes and peoples. So why London? Mandorino comes from Italy, known for its sun, sex, and spaghetti. To say the least, England is known for none of thesethings. Yet Mandorino is convinced that, in London, “if you find the rightstream, you can go far”. To him, and many others (myself included), it is a place where intellectuals come and flourish. There is no end to the possibilities when in London. And Mandorino knows, having traveled extensively himself. He thinks Paris and Rome are too noisy; Madrid is too dirty; and although Barcelona receives a great deal of sunlight, the city itself is a place of perpetual darkness. After having spent time in California’s Venice Beach and hitch hiked to San Francisco on a big rig with a black man smoking cannabis who would not stop talking, he is of the belief that it is just too easy to get lost in the West with all its pesky albatross and apocalyptic weather. This man of experience has come to his conclusion, and for him, London is ideal. Who knows? Maybe he’s onto something.