Billy’s Dream
Dear friend,
The skies are dove grey above us this morning, a light rain falling. Water drips to the ticking of our over-loud kitchen wall clock. There’s so much to tell you—this little note would happily balloon into a novella. Every moment here on Earth is so full, bursting with meaning, it makes you wonder how life could ever feel dull and flat. But it does.
We’re odd creatures.
Blessed with great torrents of emotion, and yet how much energy goes into not feeling? When we only want the light. But that’s not how it works here.
My phone displays thousands of messages a month.
Last night one of the messages was forwarded by our friend Tarkan from Billy’s family, telling us about Billy’s death. Thanking the community for their messages of support.
I met Billy shortly after moving to Tottenham. I was hustling on behalf of Living Under One Sun—the community organisation I’m a trustee for. Billy told me about his shop and how he started it.
He used to run a sportswear shop down a side alley off Tottenham High Road. He stocked trainers you couldn’t get anywhere else, and he gave kids a chance—kids maybe no one else would. Billy wasn’t someone you’d want to take for a fool.
He was a force of nature.
During the Tottenham riots in 2011, his shop was looted, and he used the insurance money to rebuild—only to have a Sports Direct open in the old carpet shop at the crossroads on the High Road.
A flood of discounted goods pouring into the neighbourhood. Zero-hour contracts. All of that. And one night Billy had a dream.
In the dream, he had a paint shop.
As he told us, he knew that’s what he wanted to do. He told his wife and got on with it. He started VIP Graffiti Paint and began supplying graffiti artists—and later street artists—with the tools of the trade.
Artists from all over the world would come visit and leave their work on the walls of the shop and the small yard out back, where you could try out ideas.
At the centre of it all was Billy. A king with a heart of gold and a man who helped so many to connect to their creativity. Billy was a life saver, and his life touched more people than any of us will ever understand.
I tried street art one time at Billy’s yard. He gleefully sold me the paint. I was asking where I was allowed to paint and he waved an arm, gesturing that anywhere was okay.
“Paint over what you like,” he said.
I was maybe two-thirds through creating what I called “A Keeper of the Flame” and needed a bit more headroom to complete the image. I got up on a paint-speckled wheelie bin to scope out the canvas, when a guy painting on the other side of the yard asked me, “You’re not planning to paint over that, are yer?”
I turned, suddenly irritated, and let him know that was my intention.
“I wouldn’t do that, mate,” he said.
By way of explanation, he suggested I take a break and watch a YouTube video called Robbo vs Banksy – Graffiti Wars. Which I did—with increasing horror at how close I’d come to making myself a pariah in a world I had no idea existed.
Pale and shaken, I went to the corner shop and bought the guy a beer. Thanking him, I went in to see Billy.
“Billy, you know you said I could paint anywhere…”
“Oh my god,” he says. “You didn’t paint over—”
“No, I didn’t—Steve stopped me,” I said, watching as the colour drained from Billy’s face.
I’d come within a hair’s breadth of painting over one of the few remaining works of a graffiti legend—with my first and only piece of street art.
I had two framed prints of the piece made and gave one to Billy. The other hangs in our hallway.
Billy was a sun king and many orbited the warmth of his huge personality and spirit.
You knew when you entered his shop, you’d momentarily joined his court.
I didn’t go back much.
Popping in to the shop would stretch into hours once Billy got going with his jokes and his stories—and life took me in other directions.
I’d pass by often enough and wish him well.
In recent weeks he’d pop into my mind and I’d wonder about dropping by. But I didn’t. Too busy.
Now it’s too late.
My deepest condolences go to Billy’s family and friends.
The idea behind A Keeper of the Flame is that it is there to remind you of someone who touched your life and taught you something important.
Here’s the only one I ever made.
And I’d like to dedicate it to Billy.
My deepest condolences go to Billy’s family and friends, and the community that grew up around his dream.
For Billy
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey