MAY 2024 · ROAM
ALL RIDERS MUST USE A MAT
Brighton, East Sussex
The backstreets first. Turquoise storefronts with yellow-framed windows and striped awnings. A black brick corridor running under a railway arch, graffiti on both walls, industrial ceiling fittings overhead. A bicycle locked to a pipe in a narrow alley where every surface has been painted over and painted over again. The layers are readable: bubble letters under fat caps under paste-ups under tags under more paste-ups.

The Tarot Dungeon has striped wooden doors, painted cream and burgundy, and a figure standing outside in a red jacket. They're not performing anything. The sign above the door doesn't say what happens inside.
These rides are maintained because the maintenance is the product.
Brighton — May 2024

At the pier end things shift. The Palace Pier's entrance is Tudor-style pastiche, which was the point of it a century ago. Carousel horses under the canopy — white and gold, painted detail still intact, turning slowly. A bright yellow fairground structure sits on the deck against a turquoise sea. These rides are maintained because the maintenance is the product.
On the beach: a rusted fairground ride frame, fenced off on the shingle, waiting for something. Alongside it, the beach shelters — modern black and white geometry, grid windows, clean lines, nothing to do with the pier aesthetic. They coexist without comment.


A brutalist concrete ramp curves up from the promenade, its railings decorative metal scrollwork applied to something that didn't need decoration and didn't ask for it.
The weathered turquoise building on the pier has faded text across its facade — the letters too bleached to read clearly. The building is still used. The sign is just what sun and salt leave behind.

Both kinds of Brighton are kept. The painted and the faded. The maintained carousel and the rusting wreck on the shingle. No one seems to be deciding between them.
























