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Subterranean Studios – How London’s Unconventional Underground Art Collectives Are Shaping the Modern World
Rain pooled around my feet as I sat under the awning of a cafe near the St Pancras Church on Euston Road.
It was a wet day, and the people of London were hurrying around, doubtless eager to get out of the drizzle that was slowly getting steadier.
Umbrellas were put up, children chided along with an exasperated sigh, and dogs dragged by unwilling owners.
Yet most, if not all, of the people I observed had no idea that they were bustling so loudly about over one of the most interesting, unconventional, and unorthodox art galleries in London.
Repurposed as a gallery in 2002, the crypt underneath the unassuming St Pancras Church had been the resting place of over 550 people throughout the 19th century.
Today, it is the home of a myriad of sculptures, paintings and interactive artworks that change almost monthly.
Open only at certain times of day, the Crypt Gallery nonetheless retains the charm of spontaneity through its no-ticket entry system, making a visit a convenient yet edifying day trip.
A fellow visitor to the gallery space, Dorina Toth commented on “the labyrinthian nature” of the crypt which bestows a pleasingly subversive “fourth dimension” to the gallery.
Upcoming in January is the artists residency exhibition with the rather unwieldy title “Dancing with My Shadows Beneath the Luminous Gaze of Your Reckoning”, which explores the parallels between the crypt space and motherhood, an act of both enclosure and restriction.
This gallery, however, is not the only one of its kind: rather, its existence speaks of a city-wide trend of underground artistic spaces, playing on the glamour and selectivity of the 1920s speakeasy married with the eclectic nature of small, refined galleries.
The intimate atmosphere of the subterranean studio has attracted many the viewer, whether they be just a casual observer or an avid art enthusiast.
However, it is not just the underground format that these innovative and eccentric “underground” galleries take.
Banner Repeater is an art venue at the Hackney Downs Railway Station, one of the first galleries to which a train can drop you directly at its door.
Named after the railway signal, this avant-garde venue aims to make art more accessible to all, not only through location but also through price, with its free entry.
Like The Crypt Gallery, Banner Repeater employs its unconventional space to nurture a closer relationship between consumer and creator.
Another target of the artistic bug that has been spreading through London’s humble alleyway spaces is The Cabinet.
This elusive venue has changed locations several times, but currently resides on Tyers Street in the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.
The list of its exhibitions is best tracked on their signature crimson webpage; currently being displayed is “The Cascades Plus”, a commentary piece on branding which features renditions of the Shutterstock logo captured in various shades of blue.
But what makes these galleries so popular?
It is, in part, due to the connection that a smaller, more secluded venue can provide between the artist and the consumer.
The enjoyer is subject to each brushstroke the artist has tenderly lavished on a canvas, each fingerprint impressed in clay, each click of a camera shutter.
Perhaps this is the reason for the visceral reaction that is felt when in these personal spaces – it is made impossible to escape from the intentions of the artist.
In a large gallery, where the idle chatter of other visitors, and the range and magnitude of artists featured on the walls, it is easy to forget the life behind each carefully cultivated piece.
The underground – in both senses of the word – gallery forces us out of the mundane and into the untethered space of the artistic mind.
The popularity of these galleries also owes itself to the feeling of exclusivity that they bestow upon us.
The privileged experience of being in such close and personal quarters with the work of another person invokes a feeling of fellowship, seclusion from the rest of the world.
It is not elitism or a sense of superiority that drives us to create these secretive havens: it is the extreme and unexplainable sense of utter connection that you, and only you, can feel when you enter a space of total artistic solitude.
In a world growing increasingly burdened by consumerism and cultural homogeneity, the underground gallery, whether it be underground in location or underground in style, provides space for the individual artist to breathe.
Perhaps we should become more open to the idea that true art may lie not only in the heavens, but also below our very feet.
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