AVATAR POETRY 1985

It's 1985, I am 27.  I joined IVC in an effort to find a woman - it was a voluntary run association of middle class educated single 20 and 30 year olds, with a wide range of social events run by members every week. Monthly and very near to me was 'Avatar Cider and Poetry Evening' at 52 Victoria Road, only 3 blocks away from my flat, so I went along.

52 Victoria Road W8 turned out to be an extraordinary red brick Victorian building; to begin with it had two entrances directly next to each other off the pavement, one with a curious opening panel at eye height in the door, used to vet visitors, made of  some kind of enigmatic ivory carving; this was the house door. We used the other door, from which a staircase descended to a large basement assembly room, tricked out with heraldic shields round the walls, and lit by high level windows from the street. This was the domain of Hero, a white haired wizened crone of perhaps 80, who apparently lived in the kitchen behind a curtained arch. I peeped into this kitchen, which was a perfectly preserved Victorian kitchen with a huge black cast iron coal fired 'range'; oak dresser;  and copper pans hanging on the walls and Belfast stone sinks with water pumps - it clearly was the un-modernised original kitchen. Hero put out the chairs, had a wry sense of humour and a very particular way of speaking. Her role in the house wasn't entirely clear, but she mentioned 'Avatar' several times, and it was apparently under 'Avatar's' auspices that we were assembled.

The evening was run by Oberto, perhaps 32, swarthy and intense, a bit scruffy and presumably Spanish or South American, though I don't remember an accent. He bought the cider (there may have been cheese as well)  and we paid him a nominal amount to cover this; I don't think he was being charged for the use of the room, because it subsequently transpired that 'Avatar' thought we were its youth movement. The whole atmosphere was decidedly odd, and hushed; it was made clear we had to be on our best behaviour and not cause the slightest annoyance, and there was decidedly tension in the air.

After we had settled down various people stood up in turn and recited or read their 'poetry' - which was almost universally cringingly embarrassingly bad. After every recital the audience obligingly clapped and the poet sat down, re-affirmed in their talent. It was clear there was a mutual conspiracy - “I'll like your bad poetry, however bad, if you will like mine”; no one was so ill mannered as to criticise anyone else. I mean, it was truly awful, so bad in fact that it had a dreadful fascination. I particularity remember one pale youth who began “Red is for anger; Blue is for peace; Green is for leaves; Yellow is for jealously . . . . . . “ etcetera. Clap, clap, clap.

The others were just like me, slightly unkempt frugal young singles nominally looking for a partner but probably constitutionally alone and just occupying the time in a pseudo social situation. There were no girls that I felt attracted to, and I don't think I ever saw any couples develop.

But the house interested me - something unusual was going on. The other door led into a richly decorated hall, much in the style of a Hammer Horror film of Dracula's Castle; deep pile red carpet; velvet wall hangings; panelling; stained glass; coloured glass iron lanterns; oak plank doors with wrought iron fixings, and a staircase rising to a landing dominated by a huge portrait of apparently a mediaeval Pope in full robes. Hero explained that this was 'The Master' Bishop John van Ryswick, founder of  'Avatar Imperium Regnum'. Apparently a schismatic and heretical Christian sect devised by Ryswick in the 1930's who was presumably Dutch; and above our basement meeting room was a 'Chapel' with a mediaeval bishop's throne, in which the adherents worshipped. By this time I think the 'adherents' had dwindled to perhaps to the low tens. Weird or what?

Oberto lived in Shepherds Bush when he was not living in his battered pantechnicon, and had a small group of adherents including Doreen a solicitor, who took a shine to me. Unfortunately she wasn't my type, but it was obvious she was attracted to me (isn't it just typical - girls you desire don't desire you; and girls who desire you, you don't desire; no wonder it is so difficult). I had to say “I'm so sorry, but can't you see that I have given up?”. “Yes”, she said, “Oberto's given up too”. I valued this as a very rare instance of a truly real conversation. I think she went off and married her employer. There was another odd occupant of 52 Victoria Road, an American student who lived in some rooms on the other side of the building, and parked his beaten up car in the weed covered drive on that side, was his name Jack? He didn't come to the poetry, but was around. When we weren't there the hall was hired out to other local organisations that needed space - actors, musicians; keep fit; ballet classes; AA. Looking back I realise that Avatar was desperate for money.

It couldn't last - one day Hero announced the great news - they had found a new Master at last from Czechoslovakia.  The Major and Mrs Kervitzer moved in upstairs. He was a typical red faced portly retired Colonel Blimp type with a obvious blood pressure problem and a choleric disposition. They had a Alsatian dog. He set about putting Avatar to rights - he wanted to know exactly who we were and why we were getting the room free; sat in on our poetry evening to see if it conformed to Avatar's precepts; and in short measure gave us notice to quit, and I think every one else too. So that was the end of that.

But because I lived so near I kept an eye on them. He could be seen working in his 'study' with floor length windows above the front door, and various small plaques appeared by the door, for example 'The Old Catholic Church', 'The Real Catholic Church'. One day I saw their dog roaming loose, and returned it to them, the inside of the house hadn't altered at all. Then the builders were in and the house was being stripped, so I nosed inside and asked a builder where they had gone, surprisingly he gave me an address in Bournemouth. So I wrote to them “I visited 52 Victoria Road and was distressed to find it empty and sold, what happened to Avatar and Hero?”. The Major wrote back that they had been forced to re-locate but Hero's ashes had been sprinkled in the garden “she loved so much” (odd as the garden was a scrubby ten square feet) and “the Work still goes on”. Oh yeah.

I have been in on the death of another organisation, what happens is that the membership dwindles until there is no longer a quorum at the AGM, so no decisions can be taken, and then even those members die and the different functions of the committee devolve eventually onto the sole survivor, who of course controls the assets. There is no one left to care or query what happens to the money. 52 Victoria Road was sold for £1.6m in 1996.

I see Hero Alison C Elder died in Kensington in 1989 aged 93. No Kervitzer's have died in the UK 1989 – 2007, so I guess they went back home. Avatar no longer exists as a registered charity, if it ever did. I occasionally wander past the house and look at the drive where Jack parked his car.

Postscript: The house is Listed grade II, “Built as Eldon Lodge by Alfred Hitchen Corbould, painter of horses and dogs c1867, the studio wing added by Edward Henry Corbould, professor of painting and drawing to Queen Victoria's children. The interior has complex layout and many features of interest including much panelling and carved wooden features some of which may be of considerable age. The studio, now a chapel; full height chimney piece with paired columns converted to take altar with elaborate reredos having coats of arms in top frieze; carved timber communion rails. Panelled walls with cusped cornice frieze. Elaborately carved double entrance doors with panels of linen-fold and tracery with figures, decorate cast iron work and hinges; in panelled frame. Southern flanking door with 6 panels of carved bas relief architectural scenes with figures; northern flanking door with case of fluted Ionic pilasters and overdoor of 2 panels of bas relief scenes. Northern wall with attached narrow carved screen of the Annunciation. Lower beamed ceiling now inserted. To right of entrance hall landing and entrance flanked by elaborately carved Burmese pillars, (one surmounted by an elephant, the other a monkey) leading to a C17 style open well panelled stair with twisted balusters and square newels.

Back