Smithfield Meat Market and Billingsgate Fish Market, two insulated worlds, rich and raw – London’s history. 12 newcomers, a 3am visit. Livers, kidneys, intestines, pig trotters – invading all the senses. Fish scales, ice, styrofoam boxes, tentacles – an array of colours and textures.

Fragments, moments and interactions inform a dialogue with the markets – seemingly random elements stand apart, forming narratives and personalities – Anthropotypes. Born from impressions, interrogations and above all, interactions in the market – four new characters from these faceted little worlds emerged.

The Wanderer from the East – an outsider, searching for a common language. The Grinder – constantly monitoring the ongoings at Smithfield, keeping intruders away. Faceless – the quiet soul of the market, seeking the exotic beauty that exists within. The High Priest of Billingsgate – delivering the fishy beings from sea to plate with empathy.

And finally a tasty potluck supper club. A peculiar snapshot of London and a few of its multiple selves – our crafted Anthropotypes.

“This fish soup is bland. Could you pass me the salt?” “Don’t do that.” “This is an eel soup, you will scare them.” “This is an eel soup, you will scare them.” “What do you mean? The eels are dead. I can’t scare them, I am eating them.” “Really? You’ve never heard this?!” “The eels are never dead, they fluctuate between life and afterlife.” “Come on! That’s crap! And then – what about the salt?” “The salt reminds them of his face.” “The salt reminds them of him.” “Him?Who?” “Him!” “Who?” “Him!” “I don’t understand.” “He’s the feeder.” “He’s the killer.” “He holds the cabinet.” “He prepares the coffin.” “I don’t believe you, I will just eat the soup.” “Well, just pay respect to him – he’s the High Priest of Billingsgate.”