The Southsea School of Art – Collaboration with David Western

If you have lived much of your life in London and Surrey, you know little of Portsmouth and Southsea aside from rote-learned historical facts, a departures board or a road sign.

You visit The Victory, Lord Nelson’s flagship, for school and family outings. You search for the Portsmouth Harbour train, the quickest way from Waterloo to Woking or Guildford. You follow the A3 Portsmouth signposts from Clapham to drive back to your parents...

As children, Marshy and I understood Portsmouth to be a holiday gateway. My husband’s family took the short trip to the Isle of Wight and my family the long car ferry to Brittany.

As we stood on deck excited for, or dreading, the family holiday depending on our age. The ferries took us out of the harbour past the iconic Spice Island Inn, Henry’s VIII’s castle, the hovercraft and then the boats steered us, smugly, away from gaudy, end-of-the-pier rides and flat shingle beaches to more refined locations.

Portsmouth has the gritty reputation one would expect of a port, naval base, and densely populated city. Southsea is slightly more genteel, described by Dickens, a famous son of Portsea Island, as having “terraces of the latest seaside fashion.”

My new hometown of Southsea has yet to be the subject of a Margate style makeover, its nightlife doesn’t have the magnetism of Brighton and Hove. A local described Southsea as a secret hidden by Portsmouth. If you want to pick up an Insta-reno for the price of a flat in London, you can.

I am here by accident more than design.

My adult son, Harvey, got a job at the Historic Dockyard the home to the British Navy and the Royal Navy Museums. It was his dream job. The sea, Naval History, ships. Excitedly, he moved to Southsea.

Harvey had had a tough time through Covid, he’d had a breakup, moved back home. The job and the location looked like a miracle cure, a panacea and a chance to move away from the social constraints of Surrey.

I believed Harvey to be a sensitive soul, subject to bouts of depression, but in late 2022 he had a ‘nervous breakdown’ which I would later learn was autistic burnout.

Very real fears for Harvey’s physical safety meant that from late 2022 I spent days and weeks in Southsea in whatever hotel or Airbnb had the best deal.

I spent many nights at the functional Ibis, in the faded grandeur of the beautiful Queens Hotel, in flats off Palmerston Road and Victoria Road South and I marvelled at the sea view from the Premier Inn at Clarence Pier.

I stayed in Southsea to make sure doctor's appointment were made (hello queuing at 7.45am,) made sure those appointments were met. I wept with the sheer relief when Dr Price, an over worked GP in an oversubscribed surgery, promptly told me that Harvey was autistic

I worked with Line Managers and HR Teams. I sought and found really fucking good counsellors. I found private diagnostic clinics. I found autistic support groups.

Alongside my day job at Miss Bush, I did what parents do; upskill, learn quickly and advocate like a bitch.

Any of you with experience of autism will know that sometimes people go missing while being very close at hand. Non-verbal, immobile, unreachable.

I had a huge amount of solo time in Southsea.

I walked and walked and walked. I checked in hotels alone, ate alone and slowly discovered the town.

The epiphany, the day that changed my mind from relocation dream of Hove to Hampshire, was beautiful. Over and over, I said to Harvey, I understand you are depressed but not everything has to be miserable. I sat on the beach in front of The Briny, read a book, and glanced at the nautical theatre of the Solent. I had small plates and a glass of champagne looking at the sea.

A waitress told me she loved my look.

I wandered back towards my Airbnb and discovered Crushed and Cured. I stopped for a solo wine and then took myself, by myself to The Wedgewood Rooms to watch, the now late, Mike Peters of The Alarm at a solo acoustic gig.

I had optimistically bought gig tickets for my son too before I understood anything of autism. An alien place filled with lots of people that is loud, has flashing lights when you are literally baby stepping out of burnout is NEVER going to happen.

I can’t describe the emancipation, the freedom for someone who's last 30 years has been a genteel Surrey version of the Truman Show. How extraordinary to be by myself, unrecognised. How wild to rent an Airbnb for yourself. How brave to walk through city at night, alone.

There are questions as you navigate a strange city without a guidebook.

Why are there giant eyes painted on walls? What’s with the oblong rainbow characters that exhort you to phone your Mum? What's with the Rorschach butterfly women? Why is a stylised seagull preaching love?

Why does no one know that cinnamon buns can be that good? Who knew that having pies in a record shop was a sitter of an idea? Why were the best breakfasts with the best views being kept as a closely guarded secret. Along with the dirtiest of food and the freshest of oysters?

How did I not really acknowledge that Freya Rose’s HQ was here? Why did I not really take in that Maids to Measure hail from here? Did I forget people can screen print T shirts in front of you. Make jewellery in front of your eyes?

How incredible is it to watch democracy in action when you can have a pint with your MP? How lovely is it to have Stephen Morgan complement you on your dress at a fundraiser when I emailed a thousand times in vain trying to reach my Mole Valley MP in Surrey?

What's that accent? Hampshire meets cockney? Why are there so many police when Millwall are here? Why don’t people like Southampton?

Who knew there are still reclamation yards, junk emporiums, thriving markets filled with inspirational artisans?

Who knew that buses still go places, taxis are cheap and pubs are full?

The locals say Southsea is not as good as it used to be; they lament the passing of Knight and Lee. Portsea born are used to the infinite variations of sea colours and the I Spy Boats shifting landscape. The thrill of sound of foghorns on a chilly morning, the cries of gulls or an off season 99 are maybe best appreciated the newly arrived.

They say it's noisy, but they haven’t heard the ‘Surrey Hum.’ The sound of the M25 meeting the A3 under intersecting flight paths.

It is very busy when the sun is out, but the beach is as beautiful when it's cold and you have it to yourself.

I think most of us will know how it feels when Rightmove addiction kicks in. Referencing and cross referencing. Map views, street views, floor plans, mortgage calculators.

Reader, we moved to Southsea.

In Sept 2023, on my birthday, I swirled around an empty, 6 bed Victorian terrace and declared this house was my birthright.

By the 18th of December 2023 we had moved in.

Over the last two years I have slowly got to know the incredible Southsea based artists, creatives and entrepreneurs; painters, jewellers, ceramicists, street artists, bakers, florists and dressmakers.

I had pressed my nose against the window of David Western’s tiny atelier in Castle Street more than a dozen times hoping to meet him and introduce myself.

His window spoke of a magpie addiction to colour and drama. The antithesis of Miss Bush. Faery goths meeting My Fair Lady in maximalist heaven.

It reminded me of the 90s, when design authenticity in bridal reigned supreme. The time before the industrial giants took hold.

I frogmarched Marshy to a bridal fair and boldly introduced myself to David. I had an inkling we could work together but was not sure how. A client looking for an impossible to find dress was the answer. I have now ‘project managed’ a highly specific bespoke commission.

I am, truly, a smooth operator 😉

David suggested a collaboration. If he had not offered, I would have asked!

Southsea School of Art

To show case the David Western X Miss Bush pieces I wanted to draw on the creative community I have met in Southsea

I wanted to riff on a studio portrait sitting and a still life filled with meaningful works from artists I have met and whose work can be found in my home, on my home and at Miss Bush.

Roo Abrook’s work is literally on the doorstep of Miss Bush. Roo has transformed the butt-ugly BT box right outside the Chapel with one of her butterfly works.

I knew Roo had a series of paintings using classical portraiture composition, subverted in street art style. I chose ‘Never Normal’ and sought her permission to scan it and print it onto a giant cotton backdrop.

I filled the frame with my own collected pieces from Roo, Southsea Mudlark, Colin Merrin and Moonshine Pyrography.

I borrowed spray cans from The Corner Collective, the permanent gallery space for the Southsea street artists. Home to Fark, originator of the stylised seagull. Leah, my Marketing Manager, bought vintage editions of Dickens.

My model Charlie was scouted in my early morning circuits class, she is committed, strong and beautifully inked. Tall, blunt fringed with strong, elegant-gothic vibe, Charlie was my perfect muse. This is her first time modelling, and she was nervous as hell, but I adore the results.

The styling was completed with Freya Rose shoes and incredible jewellery representing the wide-reaching talent in the city.

Look one features jewellery from the collaboration between Charlotte Cornelius and My Dog Sighs. My Dog Sighs is the artist behind the giant eyes that are all over Portsmouth and Southsea.

Look two features Charlie’s husband’s creative project Attic Studio Jewellery.

Never one to get out of the frame, I donned my Love Southsea sweatshirt to spell out my affection, for the town. It was also to say a huge thank you to Lulu Whitmore whose @lovesouthsea Instagram page I followed before I moved here. Through her markets I have met more genius artisans and makers. Lulu is formidable powerhouse, far more than an Influencer, and represents the irrepressible spirit of the community I have met to date.

FEATURING
Custom pieces: David Western for Miss Bush
Photography: Sophie Duckworth
Shoes: Freya Rose London
Artwork: Roo Abrook, Southsea Mudlark, Colin Merrin and Moonshine Pyrography
Spray cans borrowed from: The Corner Collective / Fark
Jewellery: My Dog Sighs X Charlotte Cornelius and Attic Studio Jewellery
Emma's Hoodie: Love Southsea
Hair: Sharon Roberts
Make Up: Carolanne Armstrong
Model: Charlie Reay