Excerpt:
...‘I like to do things the wrong way,’ says Gavin Bennett, self-styled wordsmith (poet), photographer, film-maker, songster, performance artist, calligrapher, collector of rubbish and mysterious alchemical artisan.

An acrid stench of fish curry and blocked refuse chutes greets you as you first approach Bennett’s home in a crumbling Victorian apartment block in London’s East End.

A window a few floors up is crammed with children’s toys and scrunched-up plastic bags. As the door to the apartment squeals open, the lank figure of an immaculately-groomed 50 year old man appears. Inside, an overwhelmingly cluttered hall is lined with thousands of books, painted over and drawn upon. Netting is weighed down by a collection of found objects.