It's just a phase they are going through,bless 'em. It keeps them off the streets.

It works better as a roof in a photograph. at least there is no fear of rain pouring through the screen. Comments on the tree house being "really cool", by curious visitors were confirmed in the night. "Bloody freezing" would be nearer the mark. The "house" had no walls to speak of save for a bookshelf, below which was a metre of space.hardly the most practical of barriers against the wind . None of the "artists" endured the spartan comfort of the tree houses,some valuable lessons may have been learned had they been forced contractually to inhabit the platforms full time.
Messrs Adams and Ogilvie,budding architects I am told could do with a professional spanking for their part. I would love to meet them to discuss their work. As a subcontract carpenter and joiner I encountered many design failures pumped out by button pressing computer aided whizz kids. By the level and the square,put your professional ambitions on ice until you have learned how the three dimensional world works, and please don't turn your hand to designing boats,even temporary ones.
What purported to be a library was the worst of locations for books.A place to collect mold spores from the flimsy bark bindings hurriedly tied to the spines to make the picture look right I guess. The bark strips quickly fell off once someone tried to use the books. Some of these people are post graduates, thinks I . Happen they should get a backyard of their own to complete their learning curve. Better off shop window dressing .
I read and copied the various promotional blurbs on the Tree House Gallery web pages. I will most likely target some of the Silly Con Artists at a later date on my blog if I have no opportunity to vent my spleen at them in person.They're lovely people mind you. Pleasant polite sociable individuals. Well spoken and well meaning,but as a working collective,by no means well seemingly unused and untrained to create any much of lasting worth. A multi disciplinary body with little discipline. I was up every day at sunrise. Greeting and greeted by the early morning joggers, strollers and constitutional dog walkers. Where was the team? They didn't emerge until most of the morning was over. Those who didn't scuttle off to more comfortable surroundings for the night were huddled in a little yurt at the back of a shelter that served as a rain proof office. The media 's obsessional promotion of the various illnesses and pandemics was enough of a discouragement against joining the group all be it in warmer and dryer circumstance. There are worse discomforts than sleeping in a tree house. Minimising the risk of illness is a good way to avoid dying of an N.H.S. cure.
So what's next? I have heard tell that the B.B.C. "Apprentice" team may cover the cost of dismantling. Folk are too soft. My prefered option is to compel all who promoted their names and their firms on the web should physically dismantle the installation and carry it manually through London to storage space which I have heard was offered by a "man from the Tate". It doesn' cheer my little albionic heart in the least to bear witness to webwide beggary for food materials workers performers and money. Hardly dignified in the fifth richest country in the world.The blagging could have been done for their cause a lot more discreetly. Was the event a registered charity? I don't think so. Yet it posed as an act of altruism. Who was the event intended to serve? I stayed there for over a week. Never really got a clear definition off anyone involved. I was left having to make one or two up for myself. It didn't do what it said on the tin lads and lasses.If the self funding group sells the installation to reimburse itself It will lend the lie to any claims it made in it's promotion. The sordid end of game intrigues and commercial politics I don't want to waste my head on. Compromise is difficult to wash off when it sticks to idealism.The more you try to scrub it clean the deeper it ingrains.
No apologies from me. I wish much luck in their individual futures. May the late Toby "Izlington" get the point of my incessant grumbling if no one else does.