Right Now, a Blue Door in Peckham Is Fading by the Hour
On day two of three, Jamal Ridgeway's front door on a car park wall has gone from cobalt to old denim. Nobody has asked it to stay.
9.40 on Sunday. The door behind Delaney Tyres has lost a shade since yesterday.
It is four metres by three, painted straight onto London stock brick. Dry pigment in water, no binder. The door is cobalt and stands a hand's width open. Yellow light comes out of the gap. On the step there is a pair of red wellies and one milk bottle with a silver top.
The sun gets to the left half first. That side is already chalky, the blue pulled back toward grey. The wellies are holding. Red lasts longer, apparently.
A drainpipe runs down through the door frame. Ridgeway did not paint around it. He painted it the same grey-green as the frame, so the pipe is now part of the house. The letterbox sits one brick too high. Nobody has mentioned it.
A woman in a yellow raincoat photographs the wall from three angles and leaves. Ridgeway is across the road on an upturned crate with a paper cup of tea. He has his back to the wall. He has not turned round since eight.
Day one was yesterday, after he finished at first light. Day three is tomorrow. The council has the wall booked for Monday at seven. He knows. He brought the matchbox.
At 9.52 a man comes down the pavement with two carrier bags. Grey fleece, a leek sticking out of one bag like a flag. He walks the whole length of the wall at the same speed. He does not look up.
At the corner he stops. He sets the bags down and looks back at the door for about four seconds. Then he picks up the bags, walks on, and wipes his feet on the pavement.
